“Doctor Li!”

Xuanzang said gravely. “Can your acupuncture and arcane arts subdue four men in an instant without taking their lives?”

“Star generals?”

Li Chunfeng did not recognize Liu Shilao, and assumed Xuanzang meant the star generals. “Ordinary people are manageable, but star generals absolutely cannot be done — they seem to differ from ordinary mortals in some way —”

“Then that is fine!”

Xuanzang did not let him finish, grabbed him by the sleeve, and hurried down from the walkway toward the mountain gate of the Great Cloud Temple.

Using the crowd as cover, Xuanzang and Li Chunfeng stole up behind the four men. But the four made no further move forward — they simply stood there listening to Liu Shilao’s recitation, as if captivated.

For a moment Xuanzang could not make sense of this. Then he heard Liu Shilao reciting: “We were saying that Kui Xiu served the Jade Emperor to guard the Northern Gate of Heaven. What kind of place is the Northern Gate of Heaven? Why, just outside the Northern Gate of Heaven is the Heavenly Granary — the celestial storehouse, into which all the grain harvested beneath the heavens is gathered. As our audience has now learned, the Kui constellation has sixteen stars in all, yet only Kui Nine shines most brilliantly — and this is why all fifteen other stars are dim…”

Xuanzang stood rooted, thunderstruck — this Liu Shilao was actually telling the story of Kui Mu Lang! How did he know it? And why was he reciting it here? One should know that Kui Mu Lang had terrorized the Western Sandy Prefectures for three years, brutal and murderous beyond reckoning — he was the demon that could silence a crying child in all of western Shazhou, a vicious criminal sought by the authorities, hated to the marrow by Dunhuang’s people. Why did Liu Shilao dare recount these events in public?

Xuanzang’s expression grew serious. At the same moment, Li Chunfeng had also sensed something was off. The two of them continued to listen.

“Then one day, the ninth star of the Kui constellation suddenly blazed brilliant, and a spiritual body was born from it! The Jade Emperor was greatly pleased and bestowed upon it the title Kui Mu Lang! Now, dear audience — do you know why the Heavenly Emperor granted the title ‘Timber Wolf’ as its appellation?”

Liu Shilao asked with a mild smile. “Because the titles conferred by the Heavenly Court were founded upon the art of fowl divination, which uses yin-yang, the Five Elements, and twenty-eight kinds of animals matched to the twenty-eight constellations of heaven, producing twenty-eight titles. The celestial stars are divided into four symbols — Azure Dragon, White Tiger, Vermilion Bird, and Black Tortoise — each symbol has seven constellations, corresponding to the Five Elements of Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, and Earth plus the Sun and Moon, that is, the Seven Luminaries, as well as seven kinds of animals. And so the twenty-eight animals are divided among the four symbols, then matched with the Seven Luminaries and the twenty-eight constellations, producing twenty-eight titles. The Kui constellation belongs to Wood; the Wolf governs slaughter and warfare — these match perfectly with the seven constellations of the White Tiger symbol. Hence the bestowal of the title Kui Mu Lang!”

“What an illuminating explanation!”

Li Chunfeng exclaimed in admiration. “The common people take the twenty-eight heavenly constellations as twenty-eight kinds of animals and match them with the Five Elements, the Heavenly Stems, and the Earthly Branches — then use different combinations of year, month, day, and hour to presage different fortunes and misfortunes. It does align quite well with the Confucian and Daoist theory of the harmony between Heaven and Man.”

Xuanzang had heard of Kui Mu Lang for the first time and had been curious about why the Kui constellation was named together with “Timber” and “Wolf” — now it turned out the heavenly constellations had simply been personified. Yet… why would a storyteller know such arcane star-lore?

At this moment, Yanniang beside him swept the pipa strings and sang: When Kui Xing is at work, auspicious signs shall reign; The household will flourish and fortune shall not wane. Should burial take place when yin soldiers hold sway, Within that same year, two or three deaths come your way.

Know that orders and punishments are close at hand, And heavy lawsuits bring pestilence across the land. Open the gate to water and disaster draws near, Two or three times in three years, a young son disappears.

“What song is this?”

Xuanzang asked — he had once heard it from Kui Mu Lang.

“It is the Song of Good and Ill Fortune of the Twenty-Eight Constellations,”

Li Chunfeng said with a dark expression. “Used daily by diviners.”

When the song was done, Liu Shilao continued: “Kui Mu Lang was born in the age of the Three Sovereigns of antiquity. From the day of his birth, he felt the loneliness of the Heavenly Court. Dear audience — though the stars of heaven appear as countless as the sands of the Ganges, the vastness of the celestial realm exceeds the earth’s a hundred million times over. Every star is separated from the next by an infinite distance, and even a divine being would find it extraordinarily difficult to traverse the cosmic void. And so every five hundred years the Heavenly Emperor grants a banquet, gathering all the divine beings in the Lingxiao Precious Hall — drinking immortal wine of endless life, eating undying immortal fare, in merry company and joyous revelry. But at one such banquet in the Lingxiao Hall, Kui Mu Lang caught sight of a woman — this woman was none other than an attendant of the Pixiang Palace.”

“This old man actually knows about the Pixiang Palace attendant!”

Li Chunfeng was startled. He had only learned of this from Xuanzang’s own account — how could a storyteller know of it?

The two exchanged a glance; the man’s identity grew more enigmatic by the moment. Stealing a glance at the four men beside them, they too were listening in silence.

“Dear audience, the divine beings of heaven were born from the yin and yang of heaven and earth — their lifespan is naturally limitless. Even the most humble attendant has a lifespan without end. When lifespan is endless, what becomes of a divine being’s love?”

Liu Shilao asked with a mild smile. “Dear audience, consider your own lives for a moment — if your lifespan were two hundred years, if you wed at twenty and were expected to accompany a single woman for one hundred and eighty years, what would that be like?”

The onlookers nearby immediately burst into murmured chatter, a group of men growing animated.

A merchant guffawed: “I have been married to my wife for twenty years and have nearly wanted to die — accompany her for one hundred and eighty years? I should sooner end myself!”

“Were it not for fear of the law, I’d have chopped her up and fed her to the chickens long ago,” someone called out. “I don’t dare actually do it, but in my head I kill her a hundred times a day!”

A female pilgrim shouted: “And what, only men can grow tired of women? After three or five years of marriage, my own husband… every day when I’m chopping vegetables, I imagine the carrots and scallion pieces are his face — gives me extra strength with the cleaver!”

Everyone burst out laughing; the crowd grew festive and rowdy. Even the four burly men seemed to feel a sympathetic resonance — clearly thinking of their own difficult wives at home.

Liu Shilao laughed: “And so there are very few marriages in the Heavenly Court — why? Because once wed, a divine being must accompany another for a thousand or ten thousand years, which even a deity cannot endure! Yet heaven is unbearably lonely, and on that night of the Lingxiao banquet, Kui Mu Lang chanced to meet the Pixiang Palace attendant and fell in love with her. But the rules of the Heavenly Court were strict — even if Kui Mu Lang were willing to accompany her for a thousand or ten thousand years, they could not wed. Why? Because every divine being, every star, has its fixed place: the Emperor Star and the Empress Star have dwelt within the Purple Tenuity Enclosure since ancient times, immovable for all ages. And if those two should part? The heavenly constellations would shift their positions, and the entire world of men and sky above would fall into chaos!”

The Heavenly Emperor and the Heavenly Empress separating? The listeners exchanged bewildered glances. In their minds, the Heavenly Emperor and the Heavenly Empress were more august than any earthly emperor and empress — even to think of them parting felt like high treason. Yet thinking it over, there was something perversely thrilling about the idea.

“And so Kui Mu Lang and the Pixiang Palace attendant made a pact to descend together to the mortal world and live out their days. One day in heaven is one year on earth. In Kui Mu Lang’s thinking, mortal lifespans last barely a hundred years — if they were to live out a lifetime together, it would be no more than a hundred days in heavenly time. They would not miss their duties in heaven, and yet could grow old together in the world below. Was that not an ideal arrangement?”

Liu Shilao said.

At that moment, someone laughed loudly: “So these two were treating the mortal world as a little wood for a tryst — coming down for a private rendezvous!”

“Ha —!”

The crowd erupted in laughter.

The remark had backed Liu Shilao into such a corner that he nearly choked, momentarily at a loss for how to respond. Yanniang quickly saved him, lifting the pipa: she sang:

Why are there so many narrow paths for mortals? Because they must carry all of Heaven and Earth across. Heaven and Earth shall all enter their twilight at last, Not a thing in this world stays forever steadfast.

In yin and in yang there must always be ambush, In Heaven and Earth there hides a great slaughter-rush. Above and below, only one single life is given — One word: Fate — it weighs more than all things in heaven.

One who knows themselves does not blame others; One who knows their fate does not blame heaven. Fortune and ruin, survival and loss are all already set — All are the workings of one’s own destiny — and yet.

Liu Shilao took the opportunity to collect his thoughts and continued: “Ah — these divine beings of heaven, once they act, what difference is there from human beings? The same loves and hatreds, the same ceaseless striving. But let us return to where we left off. Dear audience — can you know what happened after the two of them made their pact to descend to the mortal world? Kui Mu Lang had his heavenly duties, so the Pixiang Palace attendant descended first, was reborn as a human, and became the daughter of a great gentry family. By the time Kui Mu Lang descended, she was nowhere to be found. Kui Mu Lang searched and searched, and when at last he found her, he discovered that the Pixiang Palace attendant had passed through six reincarnations of the cycle of rebirth and had long since forgotten their heavenly pact!”

“What kind of ignorant fool dares speak such nonsense!”

The four great men’s faces changed dramatically, and they shouted in rage, pushing their way out of the crowd.

The four drew their broadswords, menacing Liu Shilao and Yanniang; the onlookers around them immediately recoiled in a clamor. Xuanzang and Li Chunfeng were also squeezed out by the crowd. Li Chunfeng said under his breath: “Master — shall we act? With so many people around, one needle per man and we could subdue all four. Once there are fewer people, I won’t be able to get close to them.”

Xuanzang shook his head: “Wait a moment. Liu Shilao’s actions here must carry deep meaning — let us see what unfolds.”

The four men herded Liu Shilao and Yanniang up the walkway, heading directly upward. Xuanzang and Li Chunfeng hurried up from another walkway to follow. They watched as the four men climbed to the seventh level of the walkway and entered a great cave shrine. That cave shrine was connected directly to the arch bridge; the six of them walked through the cave shrine and out onto the bridge, making their way toward the seven-tiered pagoda on the opposite bank.

Xuanzang and Li Chunfeng had followed as far as the great cave shrine, only to find two monks standing firmly at the bridge entrance. Left with no other option, they sought an alternative route.

Looking across to the opposite bank, each level of the pagoda was connected to the cliff walkways as well. The two of them quickly came back down the walkway, hailed a boat beside the Great Cloud Temple, and crossed to the other side.

The south cliff was considerably quieter than the north cliff, for the cave shrines on the north cliff were mostly assembly hall caves, whereas the ones carved on the south cliff were mostly meditation caves, monks’ quarters, storage caves, and burial caves.

An assembly hall cave was a cave with a large interior space, housing statues of Buddhas and Bodhisattvas and elaborately carved and painted murals — caves both for monastic cultivation and worship and for receiving lay pilgrims to view the images and hold ceremonies.

A meditation cave was simply a cave for contemplative monks to practice seated meditation, not open to outsiders, and therefore extremely austere inside. In fact, whether at the Mogao Grottoes or at the Western Grottoes, the earliest caves were simply meditation caves that monks had carved for themselves for the practice of seated meditation.

Monks’ quarters served as the everyday living spaces of the monastics, with stoves and heated bed-platforms inside for cooking and keeping warm. Storage caves were storehouses for grain and vegetables. Burial caves served as places to inter the cremated remains or bones of monks.

In short, most of the south cliff’s caves were in the monks’ living quarters area, so lay visitors rarely came here — even those who did come to pay their respects mostly did so before the seven-tiered pagoda.

The two men arrived at the south bank. The pagoda was enormous, only a third of it protruding from the cliff face. The base had three tiers; after ascending them, a door opened at the center, with two monks on guard. The two had no choice but to take the walkway beside it; at the second level of the walkway there was a small door connecting to the pagoda with no guard. They pushed open the door and entered the pagoda at the second level.

The moment they stepped inside, both stood dumbstruck — the entire interior of the seven-tiered pagoda was hollow, enshrining a standing statue of the Buddha Shakyamuni a full sixty or seventy zhang in height! The great Buddha had been carved from the entire mountain cliff face — rock as the spine, timber beams as pillars, clay-modeled and painted. Each level of the seven-tiered pagoda encircled the great Buddha, the structure of the pagoda providing support for the Buddha’s body, while behind the statue, a passage was carved into the cliff for worshippers to walk around in reverence.

The two arrived at the railing of the second-level platform — and even there they were only above the Buddha’s ankles. Looking upward, the entire body of the Buddha was hidden above level after level of the pagoda floors, and they could not even see the top. Only the Buddha’s enormous head was visible.

The two had no time to wonder at it. From above came the sound of footsteps and the voices of Liu Shilao in protest and the dark-clothed men shouting commands. They searched about — staircases rose on both sides of the pagoda interior — and quietly followed up the far side.

Inside the pagoda, each level was a Buddha hall, with many monks reciting sutras and paying homage. The sound of bells, stone chimes, and chanted sutras echoed through the pagoda, long and resonant. The two fell behind by one level and climbed upward by the staircase, while monks moved up and down past them; seeing Xuanzang dressed as a monk, they thought nothing of it and passed without stopping.

At the sixth level, the pagoda’s interior changed again. At the sixth level only the great hands of the Buddha Shakyamuni were visible, arms bent, raised to chest height, palms outward in the gesture of fearlessness. Beyond the palms was an open platform, and beyond the platform was the arch bridge connecting north and south. Though this end of the bridge was in shadow, the last glow of sunset now lit up the far end of the bridge and the cliff face opposite, filling them with golden splendor — like a bridge of the Dharma.

Xuanzang gazed at the wondrous scene before him and murmured: “The Buddha is the pilot of a great ship; the Dharma-bridge carries all across the river. The Great Vehicle is the carriage of the Way — it conveys every being in the world across to the other shore.”

“Master, we can go no higher!”

Li Chunfeng interrupted him.

Xuanzang came to his senses and turned to look — only to find four strapping men standing at the staircase entrance to the seventh level, pacing back and forth. The two quickly skirted the railing and retreated into the passage carved into the cliff face, peering out. Looking down, the Buddhist lamps on level after level below were like scattered sparks — the bottom could not be seen at all. Looking up, the seventh-level floor blocked the view, and only the Buddha’s enormous head was visible — the seventh level’s interior could not be made out.

But because the Buddha body occupied the space, the entire pagoda was essentially open — there was no soundproofing. Above, there seemed to be quite a number of people, along with the sound of hurrying footsteps and the clashing of metal.

Then an old voice spoke: “Why are there so many narrow paths for mortals? Because they must carry all of Heaven and Earth across… truly well said. A single line encapsulates so much of the world’s helplessness. The red dust of the world is a blade — how many heroes and great men have fallen on these narrow paths!”

Liu Shilao asked: “Who are you? Why have you had the two of us brought up here?”

The old man laughed: “Liu Shilao, you have been reciting Kui Mu Lang’s transformation texts in Dunhuang’s east and west markets and the three great temples. Do you really not know why I have invited you up here?”

Liu Shilao seemed to pause: “This old man truly does not know.”

“Then let me ask you — where did you learn the Kui Mu Lang transformation text?”

The old man asked.

“I am a storyteller by trade, and naturally I collect transformation texts wherever I can.”

Liu Shilao said. “One day, in a bookshop at the west market, I came across a scroll that contained three transformation texts: the Transformation of Wu Zixu, the Transformation of the Demon Rout, and this Transformation of Kui Mu Lang. I bought it. As you know, Kui Mu Lang has made every soul in the Western Sandy Prefectures tremble at his name for years — I wanted to draw more of a crowd, so I took it up.”

“Ha ha ha —!”

The old man laughed loudly. “Bought at the west market? Which bookshop? I may as well tell you — nearly every bookshop in the west market is owned by my family.”

“You —”

Liu Shilao’s voice grew somewhat agitated. “Who in the world are you, sir?”

Li Chunfeng whispered in Xuanzang’s ear: “This old man’s voice sounds rather familiar.”

Xuanzang’s heart stirred. He glanced left and right, then noticed that the railing here was embedded into the cliff face, which had been hollowed out to carve the Buddha body — holes and niches cut into the stone. He steeled himself, had Li Chunfeng brace him, stepped up onto the railing, and began climbing through the niches. Li Chunfeng watched with his heart in his throat — one slip and he would slide down the length of the Buddha’s body and be dashed to pieces on the ground below.

The sixth level had a ceiling of nearly two zhang; Xuanzang climbed one zhang and reached the yellow silk canopy hanging above, grabbed it, and finally managed to hoist himself up to the floor of the seventh level. Xuanzang waved to Li Chunfeng. Li Chunfeng shook his head vigorously. Xuanzang had no choice — he looked around, untied a tassel from the canopy, bound one end to the railing, and let the other end dangle down. Li Chunfeng hesitated for a long while, bit his teeth, climbed about a zhang through the niches Xuanzang had used, then grabbed the tassel. Xuanzang half-pulled, half-dragged him up. Once Li Chunfeng was up, his whole body went limp. Xuanzang was thoroughly exhausted as well, and the two lay on the floorboards panting heavily. At that very moment both of them froze, eyes wide — overhead appeared a cluster of powerfully built men. These men wore swords and bows at their waist; though in no armor, their iron-blooded, razor-edged bearing was sharper than any frontier garrison soldier they had encountered. The two exchanged a glance, smiled bitterly together, raised their arms, were hauled to their feet by those retainers, had blades and bows leveled at them, and were marched into the Buddha hall above.

The seventh level was the topmost floor of the pagoda, yet the Buddha had still not reached its full height here — at the seventh level, only the Buddha’s raised arm in the gesture of fearlessness was visible. The Buddha’s head even pierced through the seventh level and disappeared into the cliff face above.

Before the Buddha’s gesture of fearlessness was a wide Buddha hall, with clay-modeled, painted figures of the four great Bodhisattvas — Manjushri, Guanyin, Samantabhadra, and Ksitigarbha — as well as Dharma-protecting Vajra warriors, arrayed along both sides. At the hall entrance stood an old man — wearing a curved-collar, wide-sleeved robe, with a knee-cover in front, his great sleeves billowing. At his back was the arch bridge spanning the Ganquan River, and the reflected sunset from the cliff across the way bathed him in gold from head to toe, making him appear like an immortal from on high.

On either side of the Buddha hall, seven or eight elite retainers stood at rigid attention, gripping swords and drawing bows, eyes fixed hawkishly on Liu Shilao and Yanniang standing in the center of the hall. The retainers shoved Xuanzang and Li Chunfeng to the center as well. Liu Shilao looked at Xuanzang in surprise and could not help a rueful smile.

Xuanzang pressed his palms together in a bow: “Master Liu, it has been some time.”

“I am not worthy.”

Liu Shilao shook his head repeatedly.

The old man looked them over, his expression somewhat surprised: “So it is Master Xuanzang and Doctor Li!”

Li Chunfeng smiled bitterly and bowed his hands: “So it is Demeng Master!”

This man was none other than Linghu Demeng — the one Kui Mu Lang had gone to such lengths to kill!

“Doctor Li, I am very disappointed in you!”

Linghu Demeng fixed his gaze on Li Chunfeng. “You were invited by our Dunhuang gentry clans to subdue Kui Mu Lang. How is it that you have instead been consorting with that demon wolf and opposing us?”

“I have merely been accompanying Master Xuanzang to the Western Grottoes to pay Buddhist homage. How does that constitute opposing the gentry clans?”

Li Chunfeng said unhappily.

“What Xuanzang investigates in Dunhuang is known to all.”

Linghu Demeng said coldly. “To work hand in hand with him — is that not going against us? Now, Xuanzang is a monk and has a certain connection with His Majesty, so I have been lenient with him. But you are different. You are a court official who will return to Chang’an to serve — you must not bring ruin upon yourself.”

“Then… I shall take my leave?”

Li Chunfeng considered this for a moment, bowed his hands, and made to take Xuanzang with him toward the door.

Retainers nearby trained their bows and arrows on the two of them, and they had no choice but to stop.

Linghu Demeng said coldly: “Now that you are here, how can you simply leave? Am I to let you go and carry word back to Kui Mu Lang?”

“Master Xuanzang,”

Linghu Demeng walked up to Xuanzang and stared at him with an icy expression. “Some time ago, at the Sacred Teaching Temple in the Mogao Grottoes, my younger brother gave you a choice — leave Dunhuang and enter the Western Regions, or persist to the end in your own way. It seems the Master chose not to heed the advice.”

Xuanzang pressed his palms together and said with equanimity: “Entering the Western Regions is a form of practice. Remaining in Dunhuang is also a form of practice. Even being on the seventh level of this pagoda is a form of practice.”

“Good, good, good! A fine monk indeed!”

Linghu Demeng laughed heartily. “Since you have answered with such resolve, it saves me from having to deliberate further. Very well — let all of you remain here as bait. A fine trap needs its bait in place before the fish can arrive.”

Xuanzang only inclined his head slightly, his expression as composed as ever.

“What — what trap is this? Is Kui Mu Lang coming?”

Liu Shilao panicked, however. “This old man is only a storyteller — this has nothing to do with me! I beg Linghu Master to show mercy!”

Linghu Demeng smiled coldly and paced slowly around Liu Shilao: “Liu Shilao, you have been going about Dunhuang’s east and west markets and the three great temples reciting transformation texts about the Kui constellation — can you truly not know why I have had you brought here?”

“I…”

Liu Shilao’s body bent slightly, not daring to raise his head. “I had absolutely no such intention.”

“Ha ha!”

Linghu Demeng laughed loudly. “Let me guess — Kui Mu Lang has searched for me in Dunhuang for three years, seized more than ten members of my Linghu clan to interrogate, yet could not discover my whereabouts. Now, through some channel, he has found out that I am hiding in the Western Grottoes. But the Western Grottoes has hundreds and thousands of cave shrines — finding me here is like searching for a needle in the ocean. So how would he narrow down my hiding place? He knows what I want. So he sent you here to recite about the Kui constellation and celestial star lore. I would naturally be curious, so I would certainly have you brought to meet me — and in this way he could locate my hiding place. Is that not so?”

Xuanzang and Li Chunfeng understood at once: they had not imagined that Kui Mu Lang had acted so swiftly — it was only yesterday that word had come that Linghu Demeng was hiding in the Western Grottoes, and yet by today he had already sent Liu Shilao to perform his recitation.

Liu Shilao, frightened out of his wits, cried out: “Linghu Master, I have been wronged! I admit — this Transformation of Kui Mu Lang was not bought in the west market. Someone gave it to me along with a thousand coins and told me to come to the Western Grottoes to recite it. I have no acquaintance with that person — I am truly not one of Kui Mu Lang’s accomplices!”

“You are indeed not one of Kui Mu Lang’s accomplices,”

Linghu Demeng said mockingly. “But you are a kinsman of Lv Sheng! Your real name is Lv Shilao — you are from Guzang County in Liangzhou. Yet your ancestral homeland is Dunhuang County, and your father’s name is Lv Chennan. Your grandfather Lv Yan was the cousin of Lv Xing, the rebel of the Northern Wei!”

Liu Shilao’s head snapped up, his face a mask of disbelief. Even Yanniang, who had been silent all along, gave a faint shudder.

“You… you have mistaken me for someone else!”

Liu Shilao said.

“Still trying to deny it?”

Linghu Demeng smiled faintly, turning his gaze to Yanniang. “Yanniang — what do you say?”

Liu Shilao looked at Yanniang in disbelief. Yanniang’s expression remained calm: “Master… no. Father. It was I who told him.”

Xuanzang was rather taken aback — he had not expected that Yanniang was actually Liu Shilao’s daughter. But why had she been passing herself off as his disciple?

“Why? Why would you do this?”

Liu Shilao’s face drained of color and he roared in fury.

Yanniang bit her lip and held her pipa close: “Because I do not want to leave Liangzhou. I do not want to wander homeless. I do not want to make my living reciting stories in public.”

“Why?”

Liu Shilao ground his teeth and repeated the word.

“Liu… Lv Shilao,”

Linghu Demeng shook his head with a sigh. “Can you not understand this even now? When my grandfather slaughtered the entire family of Lv Xing, your grandfather was barely of age — that is how he managed to flee Dunhuang. Though your Lv family and my Linghu family share a blood feud, it is after all a matter eighty years old. From the Northern Wei to the Northern Zhou, from the Northern Zhou to the Sui, and from the Sui into the Tang — how many dynasties have crumbled, how many clans have scattered to the winds or been wiped out to the last man? Your branch has made a home in Liangzhou, established its household registration — why can you not live there in peace, instead of fixating on revenge?”

“I am fifty years old this year. I grew up in Liangzhou, and though my grandfather and father both recounted to me the massacre of our clan, for me, Dunhuang was only a distant ancestral homeland — the Dunhuang Lv clan was only my forebears.”

Lv Shilao’s earlier air of fright had now entirely transformed — his back straight and his bearing composed, he spoke with feeling: “The blows that fell on them did not ache in my body. Yet twenty years ago I came to Dunhuang — this was still the Daye period then, and the place was still called Dunhuang Commandery. The moment I laid eyes on it for the first time, I was consumed by love. ‘West past the Great Wall, along the frontier’s edge; among yellow sands and gravel, men till their fields.’ The Mogao Grottoes, the Western Grottoes, the three great temples, the Academy, Yumen Pass, Yangguan, Luowa Water, the White Horse Pagoda, the ancient Gua-Sha road… this is my Han people’s blessed land — this is my Lv clan’s root! I held that sandy soil in my hands, and in an instant found my footing, felt my lifeblood mingling with it. So I had to come back!”

Xuanzang let out a quiet breath — now it was becoming clear, though also ever more complicated.

“Is this what you meant by ‘one who knows themselves does not blame others; one who knows their fate does not blame heaven’?”

Linghu Demeng said coolly. “Yet for your descendants, Dunhuang is a completely foreign place — especially for Yanniang. Yanniang is already nineteen; she should long since have married and started a family, living the life of a devoted wife and mother. In fact, Yanniang had already found a young man she loved in Guzang County — a man of good family, with a comfortable life, educated at the prefectural academy, the two of them in mutual love. Yet because of your obsession with revenge, abandoning home and livelihood, she was forced to leave Liangzhou with you — eating the wind and sleeping under the dew, earning her keep by reciting and singing. That was not the life she wanted. And so I found her and promised her: help me capture Lv Sheng, settle this old grievance, and I will let her return to Liangzhou to marry and raise a family. She agreed at once — for it was the life she had always longed for.”

“Only for that… you would betray your own father?”

Lv Shilao stared at Yanniang in disbelief.

Yanniang said nothing, grief-stricken.

“You see — this is how the younger generation regards the grudges of history,”

Linghu Demeng said. “The Lv clan’s expulsion from Dunhuang was the workings of time, fate, and fortune. As they say: wherever one’s heart is at peace, that is home. In all of the Great Tang’s realm, wherever one may live and prosper — that is one’s homeland. What you cling to is nothing but a fixation.”

“It is not a fixation,”

Lv Shilao murmured. “Our ancestors’ graves are here. In life one cannot come to tend them; in death one cannot return to lie among them. That pain — you will never understand. When I was young, my grandfather died. In his last moments, he clenched his fist with staring eyes, his throat calling out again and again: Dunhuang! Dunhuang! In middle age my father died — he too had been born in Liangzhou and never set foot in Dunhuang. On his deathbed, he told me: leave his coffin in a temple rather than bury it, and in some future day he would accompany our grandfather home to be buried in Dunhuang. For my father, it was the wish of the grandfather who raised him; for me, it is the wish of the father who raised me. Generation after generation we yearn for the soil of our ancestral home — because in that yearning we are clinging to the parents and elders who raised us.”

“I understand!”

Linghu Demeng sighed. “And so your Lv clan’s way of returning to Dunhuang is to raze my Linghu clan to the ground?”

“If we do not raze the Linghu clan, how is the Lv clan to establish itself in Dunhuang?”

Lv Shilao said plainly. “Even today, on the gate posts of the Linghu family compound, the record of merit is still carved: ‘In the Northern Wei, Linghu Zheng pacified the rebellion of Lv Xing and Zhang Bao, his achievements resounding through Dunhuang.’ The Linghu clan takes pride in this and exalts it as an honor — how could they tolerate the Lv clan returning to Dunhuang? And in fact this is exactly what happened: the moment Lv Sheng and Lv Teng returned to Dunhuang, did you not move against them at once?”

Linghu Demeng was silent for a moment, then nodded: “What you say is not without truth. A gentry clan’s honor is built up generation by generation. Once the Lv clan establishes itself in Dunhuang, it would mean either that my grandfather was wrong, or that my Linghu clan has fallen. There is truly no possibility of reconciliation between our two families. That being the case, I will speak no more at length. You conspired with Lv Sheng — you must know where those items are hidden. Tell me, and I will let you leave alive.”

Lv Shilao laughed heartily, gesturing at the hall around him: “My life is apparently so precious it can be weighed against those items! You have searched for three years and still cannot locate them — and you think you only need to ask me?”

“Fair enough.”

Linghu Demeng considered. “I will step back one pace: tell me where Lv Sheng — or rather, Kui Mu Lang — is right now, and I will still let you leave alive.”

“Ha ha!”

Lv Shilao laughed. “If I refuse, I die here in Dunhuang? That has long been my wish!”

Lv Shilao suddenly bolted toward the door of the hall and ran out onto the arch bridge, calling out at the top of his voice: “In yin and in yang there must always be ambush, in Heaven and Earth there hides a great slaughter-rush —!”

Four retainers gave chase, bending their bows and nocking arrows, bowstrings snapping — four arrows flew in rapid succession and embedded themselves in Lv Shilao’s back with a series of heavy thudding sounds. Lv Shilao pitched forward onto the bridge, yet struggled upright, grabbed the railing, and cried out across the valley of the Ganquan River: “Go —!”

The gorge was narrow; the anguished echoes bounced between the two cliffs of the Ganquan River, the reverberations long in fading.

“Father —!”

Yanniang screamed and rushed out, embracing Lv Shilao’s body, fumbling at the arrow shafts with trembling hands, yet not daring to pull them free.

At that moment, a dozen or more retainers had crowded to the bridge entrance, bows raised to shoot. Linghu Demeng raised his hand and gave a gentle wave. He cared nothing for Lv Shilao — his gaze swept all around, his expression fraught with gravity. The retainers also tensed, their bows raised, scanning in all directions — as if guarding against an invisible enemy.

Xuanzang and Li Chunfeng also ran out of the hall and had barely reached Lv Shilao’s side when they stopped dead, staring in shock at the far end of the arch bridge. The sun had sunk even lower now, casting its light across the desert and the Gobi; the mountain peaks seemed dipped in blood and melted gold, the gorge sinking into shadow and haze, and only the Ganquan River swept forward out of the darkness, flowing in great breadth and dignity northward through the last of the sunset.

There on the bridge, at the crossing of light and shadow, Lv Sheng came walking, step by step, in a light robe and broad sash — and behind him followed six star generals, Kui Yi, Kui Wu and the rest, along with twenty wolf soldiers.

“Woo —!”

A military horn suddenly sounded, and then came the ring of iron-clad armor, the thunder of advancing feet like rolling drums, and countless soldiers poured from both banks — from the cave shrines, the meditation caves, the seven-tiered pagoda, and the Great Cloud Temple — swarming up the cliff walkways, filling them level by level. There were archers, spearmen, and heavy sword infantry. Commanding the armies were Linghu Zhan and Zhai Shu, each sealing off the north and south ends, layering three ranks of shields on both sides of the arch bridge. The entire Western Grottoes had become a vast killing ground!

Xuanzang and Li Chunfeng stood bewildered on the arch bridge. They watched as Linghu Demao, Zhai Chang, Zhang Bi, Yin Shixiong, and Fan Renjie — the five clan heads — emerged together from within the seven-tiered pagoda’s Buddha hall, accompanied by the Dragon-Bridle Garrison commander Ma Hongda.

As it turned out, after Linghu Demao and Zhang Bi struck their deal with Wang Junke, Wang Junke had sent his trusted man Ma Hongda to lead troops in a secret ambush to hunt and kill Kui Mu Lang. Once done, they would also strip Zhai Shu of his military command. The clan heads had paid so great a price to secure Wang Junke’s full cooperation that they naturally could not rest easy, and so they all came to witness the outcome personally.

The clan heads were concealed in the seven-tiered pagoda; the troops were hidden in the various cave shrines. A great net had been laid for Kui Mu Lang.

The great force had taken up its battle formation. A sudden hush fell over the air, the enormous contrast leaving a lingering hum in the ears. Then, through the stillness of heaven and earth, came the unhurried footsteps of Lv Sheng and the star generals. Lv Sheng paid no attention to the army that had suddenly appeared around him — not even breaking his stride — his gaze fixed only on the gravely wounded Lv Shilao.

Lv Sheng drew close. He looked at Xuanzang with a complex expression, gave a slight bow, and then, without a word, took Lv Shilao from Yanniang’s arms.

Lv Shilao coughed up a mouthful of blood, his eyes unfocused as he looked at him: “Are you Lv Sheng, or is it that wolf…”

“I am Lv Sheng.”

Lv Sheng said gently.

“Lv Sheng…”

Lv Shilao’s voice held bitterness. “Knowing of the ambush — why did you still come?”

“You were dying. How could I bear to abandon you and go.”

Lv Sheng said. “There are things I dimly recall from the past — in the year of Wude Eight, my father and I passed through Liangzhou and came to see you. In the year of Wude Nine, you came to Dunhuang to see me. My father was a seasoned old soldier — he had no knowledge of literature. It was you who taught me of the Lv clan’s glory and hardship, you who helped me take up the thread of the Lv clan’s bloodline.”

Lv Shilao smiled with relief: “What a pity — the matter was not handled well. We were outmaneuvered.”

“Was it worth it?”

Lv Sheng asked.

“It was.”

Lv Shilao said. “This was the trap you laid three years ago. I had to see it through.”

“But I have now lost all my memories — the old grievances are all forgotten,”

Lv Sheng said. “So much has been buried by the desert sands. To let it all rest and be forgotten — would that not be well?”

“No!”

Lv Shilao said with sudden force. “Dunhuang must not forget the Lv clan! The greatest scholar the Great Tang has known must not suffer such humiliation!”

“Will you still not tell me about the past? What did I do? What happened to me?”

Lv Sheng looked at him with anguish. “For three years I have asked you again and again and you have never said. Now you are dying — would you truly leave me to remain in ignorance?”

“These things should not be told to you by me,”

Lv Shilao stroked his face, leaving five bloodied marks on it. “You should find them yourself. If you find them, it proves you are still alive; if you cannot, it means you are already dead.”

Linghu Demeng and the others had not spoken — they only watched coldly from the side, and the army too was still as a mountain.

Xuanzang listened silently to their exchange, brow furrowed in thought, when suddenly he saw Lv Shilao raise his hand toward him. Xuanzang hurried forward and crouched down.

“Master Lv!”

Xuanzang said quietly.

“Master,”

Lv Shilao murmured. “Help him… find himself again…”

Xuanzang gripped his hand and nodded solemnly. Lv Shilao’s gaze slowly went blank.

“Father…”

Yanniang wept. “Have you nothing to say to me?”

Lv Shilao closed his eyes, and his hand fell.

Yanniang burst into loud sobbing. She took Lv Shilao’s body from Lv Sheng’s arms with a cry of “Give him to me!”

Lv Sheng silently released him and stared blankly at her.

“I hate you!”

Yanniang glared at him, weeping and screaming: “Why did you have to come and find us? For three years, I have thought every day of the double top scholar of the Great Tang who rode into Liangzhou on horseback! What is so special about coming first in both examinations? Why must it be the glory of the Lv clan? Why must everyone who bears the surname Lv abandon everything — no matter how little connection they have to you — and sacrifice their entire life for you? I do not want the Lv clan’s glory. I only want to live quietly with my father. I only want to marry Zhao Wulang and live a plain, simple life. Why can you forget everything, keep that woman by your side and live out your days in peace, while we must cast aside those we love and seek vengeance for you!”

“I am sorry…”

Lv Sheng murmured. “I will give you an answer.”

“I do not want it!”

Yanniang screamed wildly. “I do not want it! You made me betray my father — what good is your answer to me? I want to go home to Liangzhou, where my father is, where Zhao Wulang is!”

Yanniang wept as she took Lv Shilao’s body in her arms, pulled out the arrow shafts, straightened his clothes, and carefully wiped the blood from his face, whispering: “Father, I will take you home. We are not going back to Liangzhou. I will take you home to Dunhuang —”

With that, Yanniang took Lv Shilao in her arms and vaulted over the bridge railing. Xuanzang, Lv Sheng, and Li Chunfeng cried out in horror and reached out to grab them — but missed. The two had already fallen, a tiny dark shape plummeting into the Ganquan River below.

The Ganquan River flows toward Dunhuang, winding past the city, nourishing the barren desert into a green oasis, giving life to countless homes.