The track was a three-chi-wide circular ring, driven by mechanical force in the floor’s hidden layer, rotating at a steady pace around the Buddha’s head. Xuanzang and Li Chunfeng lay on the track as the brilliant splendor of all the heavens shone above them — just like lying on the earth and gazing up at the stars.
Then, at the corner of their vision, shapes flickered past.
Both men were startled and scrambled to their feet — only to find the track had already rotated to a spot beneath one section of the star-sky on the front side of the Buddha’s head. In the broad open space, six rope-beds were arranged, with six elderly men seated upright upon them. The surroundings were entirely empty — as if they truly floated in the desolate darkness of the universe. In the faint glow cast by all those stars, the old men’s faces were indistinct; the only visible detail was that the one in the uppermost seat was a monk.
“This humble monk, Xuanzang, greets the honored guests.”
Xuanzang quickly paid his respects.
But the old men made no response and did not move. Xuanzang and Li Chunfeng exchanged a glance and said it again — still the same silence, utterly motionless, deeply unsettling. Xuanzang looked around, and suddenly a feeling of unreality came over him: beneath a boundless star-filled cosmos, a vast Buddha head stood at the center, bearing up the primordial void. Yet in this black and deep darkness, five men sat as still as corpses.
The two approached on tiptoe, Li Chunfeng with his hands forming a seal, ready to strike at any moment.
Reaching them at close range, Xuanzang first made out the monk in the uppermost seat — and stopped dead. It was someone long thought dead — Zhai Farong, the abbot of Great Liang Temple!
Zhai Farong sat with closed eyes and lowered brow, neither speaking nor moving — yet he was clearly still alive, seemingly sunk in deep meditative stillness. He had faked his own death by hanging at the Great Liang Temple, and had in fact hidden himself here!
Just then, Li Chunfeng let out a cry: “Master — look quickly —!”
Xuanzang followed his pointing finger and his own face changed color. Among the six people, the one seated in the center and the one in the lower right seat on the right side were two genuine corpses!
The one in the lower right seat had a broadsword run through his chest — the blade had gone straight through and pinned him to the back of the rope-bed. The corpse was shriveled and decayed; clearly he had been dead a very long time.
And the one seated in the center was also a dried corpse, yet bore no visible wound. The muscles of his face had dried and shrunken, clinging taut to the bone like leather — the image of a skull. His mouth hung slightly open, as though grinning — horrifying and uncanny. The two hands resting on the armrests had also dried to a claw-like shape.
“This is —”
Li Chunfeng felt a chill crawl up his scalp.
“Look at the clothing of the one in the center!”
Xuanzang said in a low voice.
Li Chunfeng looked — and drew a sharp breath. The old man in the center’s robes were nothing remarkable in themselves: a soft gauze headwrap, a bovine-horn hairpin, a round-collared vented robe, black leather boots, with a jade ring and a leather pouch at the waist. Yet… the cut, color, weave, and even the style of the bovine-horn hairpin were exactly, entirely identical to someone they had both seen!
“Linghu Demeng!”
Li Chunfeng murmured. “His dress is exactly like Linghu Demeng’s!”
“More than that,”
Xuanzang said. “Look at his bone structure.”
Bone-reading was a critically important branch of physiognomy; Li Chunfeng, as a Curse-Prohibition Scholar, was naturally well versed in it. He suddenly realized that this man’s facial bone structure was also remarkably similar to Linghu Demeng’s.
“He is… Linghu Demeng?”
Li Chunfeng said in shock. “Then… who is the one outside?”
“The one outside calling himself Linghu Demeng is naturally myself, old fellow.”
Out of the darkness, a familiar voice suddenly answered.
A figure slowly emerged from behind the old men and walked into the glow of the cosmic heavens — unmistakably the “Linghu Demeng” who had dealings with the two of them.
“You are not Linghu Demeng!”
Xuanzang said.
“Naturally not.”
That “Linghu Demeng” smiled.
“Then who are you? Why are you impersonating Linghu Demeng?”
Li Chunfeng asked.
“My name is not worth mentioning. You may call me Hugong.”
Hugong said. “I am only a man selected from ten thousand by the Linghu clan for my resemblance to Linghu Demeng, then trained to impersonate him. As for why I impersonate him — naturally it was Linghu Demeng’s own arrangement. Master Xuanzang, you may try to guess why he arranged things this way.”
Xuanzang pondered for a moment: “Could it be that Linghu Demeng was near death, yet did not want others to know of his passing? I understand now!”
Xuanzang let out a breath. “Linghu Demeng knew Kui Mu Lang wanted to kill him. He also wanted to lure Kui Mu Lang into a trap — so he concealed news of his own death and had you impersonate him. The plan was to spring the trap at the critical moment and capture and kill Kui Mu Lang!”
“Ha ha ha!”
Hugong laughed. “The Master indeed has eyes that see through all — he perceived the truth in a single glance.”
“Enough talk,” said one old man on the left side, all of a sudden, without strength — he still had not moved at all. “Li Chunfeng just now worked out that we are computing the orbital paths of celestial bodies. This man seems quite versed in star-lore — ask him.”
Only now did Xuanzang and Li Chunfeng know that four of these old men were still alive. They could not fathom why four living men would seat two dead men among them and sit silently in their company all day long.
“This humble monk greets the abbot.”
Xuanzang paid respectful homage to Zhai Farong. He was still, nominally, a guest monk in the man’s temple.
Zhai Farong slowly opened his eyes and looked at Xuanzang with a complicated expression: “Knowing you were coming, I had no wish to meet you — and yet you have found your way here after all. You have set me a great difficulty, Xuanzang!”
“Since this humble monk entered Dunhuang, the abbot has always shown great care. On the day the abbot feigned death to avoid calamity, if you have a difficulty, please speak of it — this humble monk may be of some help in deliberating.”
Xuanzang said sincerely.
“What happened that day cannot truly be called a feigned death — as far as I am concerned, I am already a true dead man. But let that pass for now.”
Zhai Farong said without interest. “Doctor Li, take a look at all these stars — what do you discover?”
Li Chunfeng looked up and his expression grew startled. He said gravely: “Give me the bead abacus.”
Hugong clapped his hands; from below, someone immediately carried up a bead abacus and handed it to Li Chunfeng.
This bead abacus was a long rectangular carved wooden frame, with several thin rods each strung with five beads — one on top, differing in color from the four below. The frame was divided into three sections top to bottom: the upper and lower sections held the beads, and the middle section determined the place value. The single bead on top counted as five; each of the four below counted as one.
Xuanzang had seen merchants using this kind of bead abacus for bookkeeping at the west market in Chang’an, but he himself did not know the method of calculation. He watched as Li Chunfeng held the abacus in both hands and stared at the stars of the dome ceiling, beads rattling back and forth with extraordinary fluency.
“This doesn’t add up, this doesn’t add up…”
Li Chunfeng murmured. “The calculations you have been doing are wrong. Right now it is mid-autumn, the eighth month of the lunar calendar, which corresponds to the earthly branch of Zheng — the number of degrees the stars traverse the sky nightly should be one hundred and thirty-eight, and the degree of the culminating star should be ten. Moreover, the number of stars on the dome is far fewer than what the Chang’an Astronomical Bureau has determined. Fu Yi measured a total of one thousand six hundred and forty-five stars — and this ceiling is obviously missing many.”
“The number of stars here is six hundred and twenty-seven!”
Hugong said quickly.
The other old men on the rope-beds all opened their eyes together, faces filled with agitation. One old man asked urgently: “We have been computing the celestial phenomena for three years and could only measure six hundred and twenty-seven before the calculations became impossible — and the Astronomical Bureau has measured as many as one thousand six hundred and forty-five? “
“No wonder three years of calculation has yielded nothing!”
Another old man sighed. “It was to compute the celestial phenomena that Master Demeng exhausted his heart and mind and died. We old men have also overtaxed ourselves severely and are not far from death ourselves.”
“Now hear me, Doctor Li!”
One old man on the right side called out. “Can you remember the positions of the remaining one thousand and eighteen stars? Mark them and we will be able to compute the location of those several items!”
Li Chunfeng was about to speak when Xuanzang pulled at him and spoke aloud: “May I first ask for the honored guests to give their names?”
The gathering was silent for a moment. Zhai Farong said: “This is Dunhuang’s greatest secret. Now that you have seen this celestial dome, our names hold nothing back. This old monk, Zhai Farong — you already know me. I am the younger uncle of the Zhai clan head Zhai Chang.”
“I am Zhang Yan, style Changrong. The father of the Zhang clan head Zhang Bi.”
“I am Yin Helan. The second uncle of Yin Shixiong.”
“I am Fan Zheng. The father of Fan Renjie.”
Xuanzang and Li Chunfeng exchanged a glance; both were shaken. These four men were all elders of the Dunhuang gentry clan heads!
“The man in the center is naturally Linghu Demeng.”
Li Chunfeng asked. “And the one in the lower right seat?”
“Hmph,”
Zhai Farong gave a cold snort. “That is Li Ding — the father of the Li clan head Li Zhi!”
“Who killed him?”
Xuanzang asked.
“He killed himself.”
Zhai Farong said. “He used this means to make restitution, to purchase the bare survival of the Dunhuang Li clan.”
Xuanzang broke out in a cold sweat on his back. There must be an extraordinarily grim story behind this — one that had led to the principal figure of the Linghu clan dying unburied, his body kept in this place, while Li Zhi’s father had nailed himself to death in his rope-bed, letting his corpse rot where it sat. Dimly he felt that he was groping his way to the deepest buried secret of the Dunhuang gentry clans.
“Might this humble monk and Doctor Li be allowed to know the reason?”
Xuanzang asked.
This time everyone was silent for quite a long while, and no one spoke.
Hugong said: “Honored masters, we have computed here for three years and expended enormous human effort and resources without arriving at a result. This Li Chunfeng understands star-lore — perhaps he can help us. “
Zhai Farong said: “Doctor Li, are you willing to help us?”
“Help you do what?”
Li Chunfeng asked.
“These stars of heaven conceal a secret code. The code points to a location. If you can decipher it and help us find that place, our Dunhuang gentry clans will reward you handsomely — any request you have we can fulfill.”
Zhai Farong said.
Li Chunfeng looked up at the stars overhead and said quietly: “I will do what little I can.”
The old men exchanged looks, each giving an almost imperceptible nod. Zhai Farong seemed to receive the authorization from the others: “Very well — then I will tell you. Master Xuanzang, since you entered Dunhuang, you must have come to know that between us gentry clans and Lv Sheng there exists a blood feud, an irreconcilable enmity. Do you know why?”
“I have not been able to learn the reason to this day.”
Xuanzang admitted honestly.
“Because Lv Sheng desecrated our ancestors’ graves!”
Zhai Farong said with a chill in his voice.
Xuanzang and Li Chunfeng were dumbstruck: “He — he desecrated… he desecrated your graves? All six clans?”
“No — eight great gentry clans.”
Yin Helan said coldly. “Besides our six clans, he also desecrated the graves of the Song and Suo clans. That was on the day jiazi of the fourth month of the ninth year of Wude.”
Xuanzang was speechless. He could not imagine in any way that Lv Sheng would have done such a thing.
Desecrating tombs and rifling graves had been a grave crime in every age. Han tradition revered ancestors and upheld filial piety; respect for the dead was a great consolation to the living. Though Confucius had said “In rites, it is better to be frugal than extravagant; in funerals, it is better to be grief-stricken than elaborate” — still, Confucians had always observed “careful attention to the dying and reverent remembrance of those long departed.” People would willingly impoverish an entire family to bury one person, because ancestors bore the lineage and glory of the clan — the place of the ancestors’ graves was where the family’s soul resided.
Desecrating graves was not only deeply reviled by the people; the law of the court also imposed severe punishment. Under the laws of the two Han dynasties, “robbery, murder and injury, and desecration of tombs shall all be punished by dismemberment.” Though the Tang had abolished cruel punishments, it still stipulated: “He who opens a grave shall be sentenced to exile with added labor service; he who opens a coffin shall be hanged.” In any age, to violate another’s grave was the act of a man without conscience. And Lv Sheng had actually done this?
“Does the Master not believe it?”
Hugong said coldly.
“No.”
Xuanzang said. “Only, I do not understand it.”
“Because he was the Great Tang’s double top scholar?”
Zhai Farong laughed coldly. “A man in a frenzy will do frenzied things. That Lv Sheng desecrated thirty-three graves belonging to our eight great gentry clans in all, and stole seven burial epitaph steles. Back then, on the desert ground around the graves of all eight clans, there were excavation pits everywhere. More than a thousand clan members of all eight families knelt before the graves and wailed all day long. To this day the pits have been filled, but those seven burial epitaph steles have still not been found. The dead cannot rest in peace; the living feel shame before their ancestors.”
A burial epitaph stele was a stone stele buried inside a grave, recording the life of the deceased. The text of the stele was divided into the “Epitaph” and the “Inscription” — the Epitaph recording the deceased’s name, birthplace, lineage, ranks and emoluments, and the events of their life; the Inscription praising the deceased’s achievements, expressing mourning and remembrance.
Xuanzang was astonished: “He only stole the burial epitaph steles? He did not open the coffins? Did not take any valuables?”
“Is there a difference?”
Zhai Farong said in fury. “Desecrating and opening graves is the gravest of crimes. To say nothing of stealing burial epitaph steles — even if you only damage the mound and its plantings over a grave, that is an irreconcilable offense!”
Xuanzang sighed deeply, yet also found it strange: “Since Lv Sheng desecrated thirty-three graves, why did he only steal seven burial epitaph steles?”
The gathering fell silent for a moment, and no one answered with gravity.
Hugong said: “Perhaps because his grievances differed among the various families? The Song and Suo clans had their graves desecrated, but no epitaph steles stolen. The Zhai, Zhang, Li, Yin, and Fan clans lost seven epitaph steles.”
“Then what of the Linghu clan?”
Li Chunfeng noticed that the Linghu clan was missing from this accounting, and asked in surprise.
Hugong was silent for a moment, then answered honestly: “The Linghu clan’s graves were desecrated, but no steles were stolen. However, the Linghu clan’s ancestral graves suffered the deepest violation of all — from the Eastern Han onward, a total of nineteen graves were opened.”
Xuanzang thought deeply. This matter was indeed strange. The Linghu clan’s desecrated graves numbered more than half the total — clearly Lv Sheng’s primary target was the Linghu clan. Then why had he not stolen epitaph steles from that clan, while taking them from the other five?
Xuanzang did not voice his question. He sensed that the history of the struggle between Lv Sheng and the eight great gentry clans must be extraordinarily complex, shrouded in many layers of mist — a simple question would not yield the truth. And what could be obtained from asking would not be the truth anyway.
“After Lv Sheng desecrated the graves, the eight great gentry clans established the Panquan Secret Society and formed an alliance against him.”
Zhai Farong now said. “He also left a code within the burial chambers — a set of star-chart verses, pointing to where the epitaph steles were buried. And so, with Linghu Demeng at the head, we built this astronomical observatory on the seven-tiered pagoda, embedding the sun, moon, and stars, the celestial and lunar orbits, simulating celestial motion and observing data, hoping to decipher the code. However, the Li clan betrayed us — they secretly colluded with Lv Sheng and bought back their own epitaph stele through some private arrangement. In the end we expelled the Li clan from the Panquan Secret Society, and Li Zhi’s father killed himself here in atonement.”
Now Xuanzang and Li Chunfeng understood why Li Ding’s corpse sat unburied — and why a place was kept for him here, his body left to rot where it sat.
“And Linghu Demeng?”
Li Chunfeng asked.
“Before Linghu Demeng died, he left a final command: until the day the epitaph steles are found and recovered, he would not be laid to rest. He would sit here until the traitor was put to death and the steles retrieved!”
Zhai Farong said.
Xuanzang stared at Linghu Demeng’s remains in dread — even though this man was dead, one could still feel the depth of his mad obsession and fury.
“Doctor Li, you must by now understand why we built the astronomical observatory here?”
Hugong asked.
Li Chunfeng smiled bitterly and nodded, looking up at the dome: “Up above this dome is the summit of the Stone Mountains, am I right? This is the edge of the Qilian range — Dunhuang’s highest point. Observing the stars from here is naturally most convenient. And there is a river on the mountain as well — if I am not mistaken, a water-powered celestial sphere and a bronze celestial equatorial armillary should have been built on the mountaintop above.”
The old men were all somewhat taken aback. Zhai Farong said: “Truly worthy of being Yuan Tiangang’s disciple — you struck the mark with a single guess! But we are only country folk — no one here has seen an actual celestial sphere or armillary. We built ours only based on historical records of Luo Xia Hong and Zhang Heng — full of errors. And we dared not ask anyone for guidance.”
Xuanzang and Li Chunfeng — being a monk and a Daoist practitioner — naturally understood what he meant.
Because the court strictly forbade private study of celestial phenomena!
The Tang Code stated explicitly: “Celestial observation instruments, astronomical charts, texts on astronomy, prophecy books, military manuals, the Seven Luminaries calendar, the Grand Unity formula, and the Thunder Duke formula — private households may not possess these. Violators shall be sentenced to two years of penal servitude. Privately studying celestial phenomena carries the same punishment.”
And the Subcommentary specifically explained: “‘Celestial observation instruments’ refers to: instruments made in the image of heaven, with the pattern of the fixed stars and the paths of the sun and moon, turned to observe changes in the times and seasons. ‘Astronomical charts’ refers to the sun, moon, five planets, twenty-eight lunar mansions, and so forth, as described in the ‘Treatise on Celestial Officials’ in the Shiji.”
From ancient times, with imperial authority derived from heaven and humans corresponding to the celestial world, celestial phenomena were far too deeply entangled with governance for any slight anomaly not to cause great upheaval among men. And so in every dynasty the private study and observation of celestial phenomena was prohibited outright — the interpretation of celestial phenomena could only be carried out by the court’s Bureau of Astronomy, and even when the Bureau of Astronomy observed anomalous phenomena, they were required to “submit a sealed memorial — to reveal it to others carried a sentence.”
Private individuals were prohibited from not only observing but even from possessing such books and instruments — the lightest penalty was two years’ penal servitude. Even if you possessed none yourself but had learned through others, you were still liable to be implicated.
Those who dared to disseminate such observations publicly were guilty of “creating demonic texts and demonic speech” — punishable by strangulation.
One could say that the Dunhuang gentry clans’ secret construction of an astronomical observatory in the Western Grottoes was a violation of the court’s gravest prohibition. This was also why it had been built at the top of the great Buddha on the secluded and sparsely visited south cliff — once discovered, it would be a catastrophe of the highest order.
“Now that the two of us have discovered this place today — how do the honored masters intend to deal with us?”
Li Chunfeng asked.
The old men fell silent for a long while; the various elders communicated with their eyes.
Zhai Farong ultimately said: “Though Master Xuanzang is Lv Sheng’s friend, this old monk is himself a monk, and the Dunhuang gentry clans are largely devout Buddhists — we would not dare harm a great monk. The Master may enter the Western Regions when he departs in the future.”
Xuanzang smiled bitterly — it was obvious that everyone here doubted he could return alive!
“As for Doctor Li,”
Zhai Farong said, considering. “Though he is a court official — if he assists us in observing the celestial phenomena and deciphering this code, he will have shared our jeopardy. Afterward we will see him safely back to Chang’an. What say the two of you?”
Xuanzang and Li Chunfeng exchanged a glance — they had no other choice, and both nodded in agreement. Just then, from outside the seven-tiered pagoda came a long, desolate wolf-howl, mournful and drawn out, shaking the valley — followed immediately by the roar of ten thousand soldiers and the thunder of war drums.
Zhai Farong said slowly: “The young men have begun to kill the wolf!”
Hugong asked: “Master, do you wish to see this beast’s destruction with your own eyes?”
“No need. Apart from the seven steles, this old monk has not the slightest interest in whether he lives or dies.”
Zhai Farong said. “Go and take a look in the monk’s place! He died without closing his eyes — you live on in his stead, so let him have some solace.”
Hugong acknowledged the instruction, walked around the six rope-beds, and entered a passage. Xuanzang and Li Chunfeng, seeing that Zhai Farong and the others did not object, followed after. Lifting a heavy curtain, the last light of sunset came streaming in. The passage opened into the cliff face — a solitary walkway jutted from the cliff wall, facing directly toward the arch bridge.
On the arch bridge, a massive Heavenly Wolf stood in the very center, howling up at the sky!
From both sides and both banks, the walkways were packed with archers. On the commander’s single order, war drums beat, and a torrent of arrows fell like a storm from all directions upon Kui Mu Lang.
Black mist arose spontaneously on all sides; Kui Mu Lang vanished with Zhai Wen into the black mist. The dense arrow rain pierced through the mist — but there was nothing. Prefectural Deputy Zheng and Zhao Fu quickly threw themselves flat on the bridge surface; the arrows passed within inches of their backs, and the two broke out in a cold sweat. Quickly they stripped armor from the nearby fallen soldiers and put it on.
Once the arrow volley was spent, Kui Mu Lang reappeared with Zhai Wen. He passed Zhai Wen to Zhao Fu and Prefectural Deputy Zheng, and from the wolf’s mouth came a human voice: “Protect her!”
With that, he let out a long howl and dashed across the arch bridge in a flash of lightning, charging into the military formation.
“Shoot —!”
Ma Hongda bellowed out another order. Arrows fell like rain. Kui Mu Lang vanished again.
But on the bridge there still stood Prefectural Deputy Zheng, Zhao Fu, and Zhai Wen. The moment the arrows came, the two men, wearing half sets of armor, pressed close before and behind to shield Zhai Wen. Their backs were instantly bristling with arrows — some caught on their armor plates, but others pierced through and embedded in their bodies.
Zhai Wen was stunned: “You… you need not do this! Today I already hold the will to die!”
Zhai Wen tried to push them away forcibly, but Zhao Fu and Prefectural Deputy Zheng held her body in a tight embrace. Zhao Fu’s mouth foamed blood, and he murmured: “My lady… may I ask Kui Shen — in this life… have I achieved Soldier-Release Immortality?”
Zhai Wen started, looked at Zhao Fu’s beseeching expression, and silently nodded: “When the divine Kui ascends to heaven, he will take you with him to the Heavenly Court.”
Zhao Fu’s expression became one of contentment. Together with Prefectural Deputy Zheng, he collapsed with Zhai Wen still in his arms. Even as they fell, they kept their bodies covering Zhai Wen.
In the void, black smoke rose; Kui Mu Lang appeared before the three of them and lowered the wolf’s head to look. Zhao Fu was dead; Prefectural Deputy Zheng was barely breathing. Zhai Wen had not a scratch on her.
Prefectural Deputy Zheng murmured: “Divine Kui…”
“Speak.”
Kui Mu Lang said.
“If the Fourth Lord Lv awakens… please have him remember me… my surname is Lv.”
Prefectural Deputy Zheng made a struggling effort to extend his hand, as if trying to grasp him. “I have never forgotten —”
The hand reached halfway up, then fell.
Wolf eyes lit with a dim flame, filled with sorrow and fury.
“Five-Elements Great Escape again!”
Linghu Demeng’s voice came, cold and distant. “This is a hundred-zhang bridge — Gold is cut off, Wood is cut off, Earth is cut off, Fire is cut off. I’ll see where you can escape to! Men — open the Lion Sluice!”
Behind him, retainers raised an ox-horn and blew; in the signal of the horn, the railings of the bridge suddenly began to creak and groan. The bridge was stone, but to reduce its self-weight, the railings were wooden, carved with three hundred and sixty lion heads.
With the horn sounding, the three hundred and sixty lion heads slowly turned, each spurting a thin stream of black viscous liquid from its mouth, like a fountain, the streams crisscrossing and falling on the bridge surface. Kui Mu Lang had no time to dodge — a jet of black water caught him squarely, and even Zhai Wen, pressed beneath Prefectural Deputy Zheng and Zhao Fu’s corpses, was drenched on half her body.
The black water had a sharp, choking smell, and where it fell on the bridge surface it formed a lattice of crisscrossing streams.
Xuanzang watched from the ninth-level walkway and said, startled: “This is —”
“Rock fat,”
Hugong said flatly. “Transported from Jiuquan in Suzhou. Central Plains people have not seen this — but here in Hexi we use it quite often. Locally it is also called rock lacquer. It lubricates axles, makes ink pigments, treats hair loss, poisonous sores, sword wounds — but its greatest use is — to burn!”
“Switch to fire arrows!”
Ma Hongda shouted.
Signal officers took up the cry; the archers on both banks simultaneously fitted fire arrows to their bows; nearby auxiliary soldiers raised torches to light them; and on Ma Hongda’s command, the high air of the gorge blazed with a dense spray of sparks, swift as meteors, streaming onto the arch bridge from all directions.
Countless fire-lights fell on the bridge, instantly igniting the rock fat, and the entire bridge surface burst into blazing fire in a grid pattern. Xuanzang had never seen this substance before — it burned without need of firewood.
The grid-patterned flames swallowed Kui Mu Lang in an instant. He let out a great cry, grabbed several corpses, and flung them around Zhai Wen, smothering the flames nearby. Zhai Wen struggled to push Zhao Fu’s body off and stood up, calling out: “It’s useless! We cannot escape!”
“Mere crawling ants!”
Kui Mu Lang turned his head, and in an instant he saw Hugong, Xuanzang, and Li Chunfeng on the walkway at the cliff-top. Fury blazed in him; with a long howl, he sprang from the bridge and launched himself toward the seven-tiered pagoda.
Everyone watched coldly. Unless he could fly without landing, he would inevitably plunge into the flames below. Yet from both banks came a cry of shock — Kui Mu Lang’s form suddenly exploded in midair, scattering into a mass of pitch-black smoke. That smoke then ricocheted into more than a dozen streams of dense black mist, each hurtling toward the military formations on both banks.
“He is attempting to escape by Great Concealment!”
Linghu Demeng cried. “Form up! Shield bearers —!”
By this time, Linghu Zhan and Zhai Shu dared not let concern for Zhai Wen distract them from the great matter at hand. They shouted orders: the well-trained frontier troops of the Great Tang quickly formed shield walls, spearmen raising ranks of spears above the walls, shield bearers roaring in unison and pressing their shoulders hard into their shields, bracing to receive the fierce impact.
Yet the dozen or more streams of black mist slammed into the shield wall with enormous force — and then collapsed with a “crack” into a burst of black smoke that dispersed into nothing. The shield bearers were baffled, and some on the south side stood up to investigate — the space ahead was clearly empty. Then, out of nowhere, a line of blood appeared on several men’s necks, widening into gaping wounds — and blood sprayed.
Kui Mu Lang had used the dozen or more black mist streams as decoys, hiding his true form within one of them, using the concealment to break through the fire ring and plunge into the military formation. A massive wolf shape flickered among the shields and spears; in an instant, more than a dozen soldiers had their throats slashed, crying out, falling like a row of cut grass. Yet Kui Mu Lang had not entirely escaped the rock fat’s burning — his body too had caught fire.
Linghu Zhan and Zhai Shu had both rehearsed for this kind of contingency and were not flustered. A single order sent archers pouring over from the cliff walkways, thrown into the fray to hold Kui Mu Lang. The mass of soldiers pushed in on both sides of the arch bridge; the spear-ranks like a forest, the shield-walls like a mountain — as they converged, the arch bridge was packed with black armored ranks, and Kui Mu Lang was merely an insignificant dot within that black iron tide. Though Kui Mu Lang’s divine power still held — blood and flesh flying in all directions wherever he passed, corpses blanketing the ground — everyone could see that he had been pushed to the edge of the abyss. By now the flames on his body had been extinguished by the flow of blood; he had sustained more than a dozen wounds, with one broadsword nearly run through his body.
The soldier who had driven the blade through discovered that he had impaled Kui Mu Lang — and in that instant went utterly mad with elation, oblivious to the fact that he stood in a killing field of crisscrossing blades. He cried out: “It was me! I have wounded a divine being! I — Liulong Township, Anding Village, Liu Third —!”
“Swoosh —!”
The wolf claw swept coldly across his throat.
The cry cut short. But the joy had not frozen in place; Liu Third sank to the ground wearing an expression of fierce satisfaction.
On the north side of the formation, Zhai Wen stared blankly, walking step by step southward over the burning flames, following the movement of the soldiers. In the dense ranks she could not see Kui Mu Lang’s form — but every time the soldiers gave a cheer, she knew: he had been wounded again, and was one step closer to death.
“Swoosh —!”
A spear drove from among the mass of figures and struck Kui Mu Lang in the lower back. Kui Mu Lang let out a howl of agony, nearly toppling. Amid the soldiers’ cheers, a dozen or more spears simultaneously stabbed in — Kui Mu Lang let out a roar, and from the wolf’s mouth a thick blast of dense black mist erupted. The viscous black mist quickly spread through the soldiers, blanketing an area seven or eight zhang around. From within the mist came a continuous wave of screams; through the gaps in the smoke, one saw blades and spear-tips flashing everywhere — soldiers who had inhaled the black mist suddenly went berserk and hacked at their own comrades. Fortunately, all were wearing iron armor, and casualties were not heavy — but the scene was thrown into chaos.
“Hmph — nothing more than some hallucinatory smoke.”
Hugong said with cold disdain. “Master, have you noticed anything?”
Xuanzang nodded. “Kui Mu Lang right now, though formidable, is far weaker than he was at the Mogao Grottoes or the Qingdun Garrison. His sky-ascending arts, his external manifestation — none of them have been employed. Back then, he was not something that could be piled under human bodies.”
“He has run out of tricks.”
Hugong said flatly.
At that moment, a massive wolf shape suddenly erupted from within the formation’s dense smoke, leaping up and landing on the bridge railing, bounding from railing to railing — moving like lightning, breaking out of the military encirclement. He landed in a Buddha niche at the end of the arch bridge, borrowed the foothold, and launched himself up onto the walkway, charging directly upward — his target unmistakably Hugong!
Beneath the Buddha niche, Linghu Zhan, Zhai Shu, and Ma Hongda reacted with extraordinary speed, immediately bending bows and shooting arrows after Kui Mu Lang. The archers behind them also loosed their arrows one after another; countless arrows chased Kui Mu Lang — and just one pierced his back.
Kui Mu Lang weaved among the walkway boards and cave shrine eaves, dodging the arrows, and quickly reached the topmost level. In a single bound he launched himself through the air, flying toward Hugong and Xuanzang and the others. That blood-drenched, kill-hardened ferocity made the blood run cold.
Hugong gave a “hmph,” turned his head, and ducked into the passage. Xuanzang and Li Chunfeng exchanged a glance and also ran inside immediately.
Bang — Kui Mu Lang crashed down heavily onto the walkway. With a crack, half the walkway was smashed to splinters. Kui Mu Lang struggled up, dropped to all fours, and crawled into the passage.
On the bridge below, the soldiers gave a cry of alarm. Linghu Demeng shouted: “Terrible! Get in there and kill him!”
Zhai Chang, Zhang Bi, Yin Shixiong, and Fan Renjie all panicked too. But the ninth-level walkway was not connected to its surroundings — it hung isolated from the cliff face — and no one could leap across as Kui Mu Lang had. They had no choice but to lead their armored soldiers rushing into the seven-tiered pagoda.
Ma Hongda also tried to enter, but was grabbed by Linghu Demeng: “Commander Ma — you stay here. Be careful he doesn’t slip away by the walkways.”
Ma Hongda considered and agreed this was sound reasoning. He immediately ordered archers to seal off the walkways.
After the violent fighting died away, the valley fell silent. Then came the faint sound of a double-reed pipe, its notes mournful and somber. The last faint glow of sunset faded; the mountains darkened to ink. The lonely notes seemed to weep into the night.
File upon file of iron-clad soldiers walked along the walkways, across the arch bridge — everywhere underfoot lay the bodies and blood of their comrades-in-arms. In an instant, the exhilaration of having conquered a divine being transformed into an overwhelming grief; some could not hold back their weeping. Through the army spread a pervading desolation and sorrow.
Ma Hongda looked all around. The valley echoed with the lingering sound; he could not tell from where the pipe music came.
On the summit of the stone mountains on the south cliff — a spur of the Qilian range — the Gobi hillocks rolled on in an unbroken chain. Not a blade of grass grew on the mountains; few ever ventured there. In the far distance one could see the permanent snowcap crowning the Qilian peaks; the snowmelt gathered in rivulets at the mountaintop, flowed along the valley floor, wound around the stone mountains, and fell through the gorge fissures into the Ganquan River.
At the very summit of the stone mountains, there was a flat, rammed-earth clearing enclosed by a packed-earth wall like a courtyard. Beside it stood a low mud-brick room, a narrow wooden door tightly shut.
Stranger still — the ground was riddled with more than six hundred circular holes, each capped with a piece of red glass, each burning an everlasting lamp of mermaid oil inside. The burning circles of light, glimmering like points of fire, surrounded several large astronomical instruments. Among them were unmistakably the water-powered celestial sphere and celestial equatorial armillary that Li Chunfeng had mentioned.
The water-powered celestial sphere stood two zhang tall, made of yellow bronze. Its main body was a spherical model — on the sphere were painted the twenty-eight lunar mansions and all the other constellations; outside the sphere were two circular rings, one the horizon ring and one the meridian ring. Driven by water power, the celestial globe rotated on its celestial axis, simulating the orbital paths of the stars above.
At the foot of the celestial sphere, Yuzao sat on the packed-earth enclosure wall, playing the double-reed pipe in sadness. The tears on her face had dried in the night breeze; only their tracks remained.
As it turned out, Yuzao and Li Chan had hurried to the Western Grottoes afterward and had begun searching for Lv Sheng everywhere — but the cave shrines were too many and there was nowhere to begin. By the time Lv Sheng appeared and set foot on the arch bridge, soldiers had already encircled the place on every side. So the two of them had hung ropes from the walkway on the south cliff and climbed up to the mountaintop — where they were greeted by the shocking sight of this astronomical observatory!
Li Chan was of imperial stock and naturally knew what the private construction of an astronomical observatory meant. Yet Yuzao had no interest whatsoever in the observatory — she stood on the cliff’s edge gazing out at Lv Sheng, who fought and bled in battle for his beloved.
She watched as Yanniang clasped Lv Shilao and jumped from the arch bridge.
She watched as the six star generals fought a desperate, brutal battle and fell in the field.
She watched as Lv Sheng and Zhai Wen stood side by side on the bridge, embracing, facing death together.
She watched as Lv Sheng let out a roar for his love, became the Heavenly Wolf, and cut through rank after rank of the army.
Without her noticing, the world had sunk into deep chill; darkness had closed over everything — just like the despairing, hollow space within her heart. She knew: the man she had loved since the age of thirteen held no hope for her in this life. Whether he was man or ghost, demon or immortal — he had nothing to do with her. Back then in Chang’an city, he smiled and said: Fish amid the waterweed, striking is her face. A fine girl indeed — how joyful to drink with her. He smiled and said: hurry up and grow tall.
From that moment she had worked hard at her martial training, strengthened her body, hoping to surpass his shoulder’s height and stand side by side with him through her entire life. She thought that was the beginning for them — who could have guessed it was the ending.
The day he left Chang’an, she was already fated to lose him forever. Even now, this person was still before her eyes — yet just as before, he had disappeared into the depths of the desert, into the vast expanse of the world.
In truth, the two of them were not very far apart. Between them stood only one woman — yet the distance was greater than the passage of the sea and the age of the mountains, greater than this life and the last.
Yuzao dropped the pipe, stood up on the enclosure wall, and spread her arms wide, facing the cliff.
Li Chan was alarmed and rushed to grab her: “No — you must not!”
Yuzao said coldly: “I am not going to jump off the cliff and kill myself. A daughter of the Wang clan would never throw away her life for a man.”
“Then what are you —”
Li Chan breathed a sigh of relief.
“I only want to say farewell,”
Yuzao murmured, “but I don’t know to whom. To the man I once loved — or to that little girl in Chang’an.”
Li Chan scratched his head: “Actually it’s life itself, isn’t it? Swaddling clothes, infancy, childhood, early youth, manhood, full vigor, knowing heaven’s mandate, the diamond decade, ancient rarity, the ripe old years, the hundredth year — at every stage one must bid farewell to what came before, like the butterfly breaking from the chrysalis. Sometimes looking at the shell you’ve shed, you can’t help feeling revulsion at your former self.”
Yuzao watched him quietly: “Who exactly are you?”
“Me?”
Li Chan was startled. “Li Chan! A scholar come to Dunhuang to worship the Buddha.”
“A scholar, or a lord’s heir?”
Yuzao’s expression was calm.
Li Chan broke into an immediate sweat — he had clearly heard the difference between those two words.
“Actually, it was only in the small hours of this morning that I realized your identity.”
Yuzao said. “I had wondered before why everyone who encountered you showed a certain deference, even reverence — but I didn’t think much of it. It was only in the early hours of this morning: you walked in and out of my inner quarters as if there were no one there; you knew I was already betrothed, yet my father made no attempt to stop you. For a man of my father’s nature — one who is always trying to climb higher — his attitude toward you does not fit the standing of an ordinary scholar. And so there is only one explanation: you are Li Chan, heir of Linjiang Commandery Prince.”
“I…”
Li Chan wiped the sweat from his brow, feeling a chill all over. He smiled awkwardly. “I did not mean to deceive you. It was after we returned from the Mogao Grottoes that I learned my father had arranged this match for me. But… I knew you did not like me, did not want to marry me, yet I wanted to stay at your side, even just to watch you from nearby. So I did not dare reveal my identity to you. Twelfth young lady, I am sorry. If you wish to hit me, I have no grievance.”
“What should I hit you for.”
Yuzao felt a measure of bitterness. “In those days, I don’t know why, but just seeing you made me irritated — perhaps some premonition in my soul. Now that my father is about to rebel and our match is impossible, remembering how we fought side by side all those days, I can only feel sorrow.”
“Yuzao,”
This was the first time Li Chan had called her by name. “I still intend to marry you. In this life I can love no one else.”
Yuzao shuddered — and then laughed coldly: “Do not forget my father is about to rebel, and you are of the imperial house! Have you had your brains eaten by dogs!”
“No — listen to me.”
Li Chan’s expression at this moment was extremely calm. “I have always been irresolute, not knowing what I should do, not knowing what responsibilities I should take up, not knowing what I was meant to do. But since returning from Yumen Pass, I have found my calling: to be at your side; to give you happiness; never to let you suffer the slightest harm. Yuzao — you and I have already been betrothed; the betrothal gifts have been presented, the date has been fixed. By law, you are already a daughter-in-law of my Li family. Under the Tang Code: ‘For treason and high treason, all are beheaded. Fathers and sons aged sixteen and above are all strangled; those aged fifteen and below, and mothers, daughters, wives, concubines, grandparents, grandsons, brothers, sisters, and if there are subordinates, household goods and landed property are all confiscated…’ “
“Shut up!”
As Li Chan recited, Yuzao suddenly thought of what awaited her father, her brothers, and her mother — and could not stop trembling, tears streaming down her face.
Li Chan did not yield, but watched her quietly and continued: “If a woman has been formally betrothed — with a written betrothal and private agreement, or betrothal gifts already presented — even if the wedding ceremony has not yet taken place, she shall be delivered to her husband and shall not be held responsible for the crime of her natal family.” “Yuzao — once we return to Dunhuang, we can no longer wait for the wedding party my father has dispatched. I will immediately have Wang Lize make arrangements for a formal welcoming, and bring you to Guazhou. From that day on, you will be a daughter-in-law of the Li family — nothing to do with the Wang family.”
“Is this the plan you wracked your brains to come up with? How naive!”
Yuzao said coldly. “Will your father agree? He is suppressing a rebellion with one hand — and his son is marrying the rebel’s daughter with the other? He will fear the Emperor’s suspicions. He will not agree! The day you welcome me to Guazhou is the day they arrest me and send me bound to Chang’an!”
“Yuzao,”
Li Chan wept. “Perhaps my father will do exactly that — but this is the only plan I could think of. We are both children of high-ranking families — and yet in truth we are nothing more than two drifting weeds in the world. Your father is set on rebellion, my father can only suppress it — neither of us can change the other’s fate. I cannot change my destiny, but I can change my choice. If my father has you arrested and sent to Chang’an, I will bind my own hands and ride in the prisoner’s cart beside you, go to Chang’an and demote myself to a commoner! If you are confiscated by the state, I will sell myself into bondage — I only wish to remain at your side through this one life.”
“Fool! You are a complete fool —!”
Yuzao wept; she beat him with frenzied blows.
Li Chan only stood there with tears streaming down his face, smiling at her, not dodging, not shielding — in moments his face was swollen and bloody. Yuzao stopped, crouched down, covered her face, and wept bitterly. Li Chan stood in silence and watched her.
“Very well. I agree.”
Yuzao wiped her tears, stood up. “But you must promise me one condition.”