Dusk was approaching. The campfire by the river, which had gone out earlier, was lit again; in the last light of the sun, dust drifted through the air amid the crackling of the flames.
By the time the sun had set, Lin Chong had gone off into the hills and caught a musk deer and a wild hare, bringing them back to skin and roast. These past few days had left his emotions in constant turmoil, and having gone without sleep for so long, he had little appetite. Shi Jin was different — the past several months of continuous fighting, and this journey south in particular, had left him carrying no small number of wounds, and though years of campaigning had trained him to endure hardship, recovering properly still required plenty of food. As he ate, their conversation quieted for a moment, and Lin Chong sat on higher ground nearby, silently turning over what Shi Jin had told him.
Azure Dragon Crouch stood quietly to one side, faint light shifting along its ancient, weathered shaft.
“…More than ten years ago, in Xinzhou, I met Master Zhou…”
“…That was the first time I ever saw the old master — and the last. That was during the Jurchens’ first push south. They attacked hard, won battle after battle, and Xinzhou didn’t hold out long before the city fell. Then came the massacre. Master Zhou gathered a group of men… a ragged, hopeless bunch… moving through the city, meaning to assassinate Nian Han. Two nights before the attempt, Master Zhou suddenly came to find me. Brother Lin, do you know why he sought me out… He said, you’re Lin Chong’s brother…”
“I… I still can’t forget the look on his face that day… Brother Lin, originally I had only meant to ask Master Zhou if he knew anything of your whereabouts, but with the crisis of the nation upon us, and having no prior acquaintance with him, I felt it wasn’t the moment to ask. I thought, we’ll go kill Nian Han together first, and if we live, there’ll be time enough to talk properly then; if we fail, whether I ask or not won’t matter much anyway… Instead, Master Zhou asked me about you first. I told him — the last I’d seen of you was at Yiyuan, when you fell into the river, and I’d searched everywhere without finding you. I told him you were most likely dead.”
“…But Master Zhou said — that meant you weren’t dead. That we’d meet again someday.”
“Then he taught me a full set of the Demon-Subduing Staff technique…”
“Two days later, he died. I’ve lived on, somehow, ever since.”
“…In all the years since, the Central Plains has grown worse and worse, and up on Chifeng Mountain, I kept thinking back to Master Zhou’s resolve, that day he went to kill Nian Han…”
“…If he could see how things stand now, I wonder what he would think…”
“…Every time I think of it, I tell myself — those of us who’ve survived when we shouldn’t have, we can’t just live out our lives doing nothing. It’s what’s kept Chifeng Mountain going, through everything, all these years…”
Shi Jin, forthright by nature, spoke of all this without a trace of sorrow in his voice, even as he recounted it. When he reached the line “that meant you weren’t dead — we’ll meet again someday,” he said it without the slightest hesitation, and Lin Chong understood at once — that must have been exactly the tone the old man had used, that day. In that inn at Yiyuan county, the old man had once flown into a rage and driven him out the door — and yet, in all that danger and turmoil, he had still, apparently, spared a thought for this unworthy disciple.
A full ten years had passed since then. Even the old man’s final words of concern for him now belonged to a decade in the past. Hearing Shi Jin speak of it now, something stirred in Lin Chong’s heart, distant as if separated by a thousand mountains, and yet unbearably complex all the same. He sat beneath the tree, watching the crimson sunset in the distance, his face betraying nothing. He watched like this for a long while before Shi Jin slowly began speaking again, telling of the years of wandering since, of the growth and eventual splintering of Chifeng Mountain, of the fury and confusion in his own heart through it all.
“…After the affair at Zezhou, I knew I wasn’t cut out to lead men, and I didn’t want to drag others down with me any longer, so I headed north alone, to carry on Master Zhou’s unfinished work — the assassination of Nian Han.” Lin Chong’s gaze shifted slightly toward him. Shi Jin picked his teeth with a rabbit bone; having headed north with his heart knotted in despair, now that the knot had finally come undone, his words carried only their old boldness and ease. “All the way north, to Datong. I didn’t want to drag too many others into it either, so right there in the open street, I made two attempts on Nian Han’s life in a row… nearly got myself killed both times, and yet, somehow, I got away — quite the stroke of luck, really. I thought at the time, maybe it really was Master Zhou’s spirit watching over me, telling me to go do something smarter instead… The second attempt left me wounded, and through it I met some people, saw some things… Jin was preparing to march south again, and no one there could sit still any longer…”
He spoke of what had happened inside and outside Datong, of the riot on the twenty-first of June and its failure, of how he had switched targets, forced his way into Wanyan Xiyin’s residence, and afterward come across Azure Dragon Crouch…
“…There really is such a thing as fate in this world…” The sky had already darkened. Shi Jin looked at the old, weathered spear. “The moment I picked it up, that’s the thought that came to me. Brother Lin — maybe Master Zhou really does watch over us from beyond. He sent me north to fight the enemy, let me survive two failed attempts on Nian Han, and in the end I came away with this spear, carried it a thousand miles south, and ran straight into you… maybe it really was Master Zhou’s will, that this spear should end up in your hands.”
Lin Chong looked at the spear for a long moment, then shook his head. “There’s someone else in the south — a younger disciple, the last one Master Zhou ever took on. He’s General Yue Fei now… he’s the true heir to Master Zhou’s teaching. I… I’m not worthy of the name of Zhou Tong’s disciple.”
“The Wu Dynasty had two hundred years of peace. This calamity is beyond what any one man could hope to fix,” Shi Jin said. “Over the years I’ve met all kinds of people — reckless ones, fierce ones, ones who only wanted to find some corner of safety and be left alone. Brother Lin, none of them were wrong. As the old saying goes, heaven and earth are the furnace, creation the craftsman, yin and yang the coals, and all things the bronze being forged. Nothing in this world escapes this great calamity. But a real man — even if the forging takes longer than he’d like — if one day he finally wakes to it, that’s enough to make him a hero standing tall between heaven and earth. Brother Lin, your wife is dead. The woman I loved is dead too. This world leaves no path for good people to walk!”
“But you and I, brother — since we’re still alive against the odds, there’s nothing left to hold us back! Everyone dies eventually — so let’s live out what’s left of our lives properly!” Shi Jin’s voice rose slightly, resolute and unwavering. “Brother Lin, that the two of us should meet again today — that’s the world’s own doing! Since fate has brought us back together, is there anywhere under heaven we couldn’t go? This spear, Azure Dragon Crouch — whether you keep it yourself or carry it south to your young martial brother, either way, it completes one great task left unfinished by Master Zhou. And then… we could pay a visit to Lin’an too. That Gao Qiu — who knows where he’s been hiding all these years. Brother Lin, even if you and I end up dying in this great calamity that’s overtaken heaven and earth, at least we’ll drag a few of these villains down with us.”
Now that Shi Jin had finally said all this aloud, having found Lin Chong again after so long, his spirits soared with excitement. Lin Chong gave a faint smile. “Yes…” Shi Jin waved a hand and kept talking, about the coming Jurchen invasion from the south, about the two of them fighting together to resist it once more. His heart burned with unquenched ambition, and the old fire in his chest flared up again. Lin Chong knew well how bold and chivalrous this brother of his had always been; after ten years of hardship, Shi Jin had already worn a kind of world-weariness into him, and seeing him find his fire again now brought Lin Chong real happiness on his behalf. After talking for a while, Shi Jin finally said, “I still have someone I need to kill, these next few days.”
Shi Jin asked who. Lin Chong was silent a moment, then told him about Xu Jinhua’s death, and about their son, Mu Anping, being taken away by Tan Lu. This journey of pursuit, he said, was first about rescuing the living — killing Qi Ao could come after. Shi Jin froze for a moment, then suddenly slammed a fist into the ground, his eyes burning like flame. “My nephew taken as well — and you didn’t say anything until now, Brother Lin? This is no small matter — how could we possibly delay here. Brother Lin, we need to move, now.”
Lin Chong sat where he was and did not move. There was still pain in his gaze, but he said, “The child has been taken as a hostage. As long as I’m alive, Tan Lu won’t dare harm him. Brother Shi, you carry a heavy burden heading south — if you let your wounds worsen, how will you ever complete it?”
Having said this, he looked at Shi Jin and gave a calm smile. “Besides, this Tan Lu is nothing more than a small-time clown in the martial world. To kill him doesn’t need the two of us together — once he’s found, he’s a dead man regardless.”
Shi Jin slowly sat back down, understanding dawning on him. Lin Chong had spent this entire afternoon here, not because he didn’t want to move, but because he had noticed how serious Shi Jin’s wounds were. He had gone off to gather firewood and start the fire, hunted for food, and stayed close by, all so that Shi Jin could rest and recover in peace. Back on Mount Liang, Lin Chong had always been gentle in temperament but meticulous in his thinking; whatever tasks Song Jiang had entrusted to him, large or small, had rarely gone wrong. All these years later, even carrying grief this deep, he had still noticed all of this at once — he had not even wanted, at first, to mention that his son had been taken.
“Then… Brother Lin, go now, quickly, and save the child. My wounds are nothing — I can look after myself. I’ll rest here for a while, and in a few days, brother, let’s arrange a place to meet again…”
Lin Chong shook his head. “My own wounds aren’t light either, and I’ve been running back and forth for days now without sleep. I’ll rest tonight — tomorrow I’ll be better able to handle things.”
Shi Jin opened his mouth, but in the end said nothing further. Lin Chong sat there and, after a moment, began speaking again — of the state of his household, of news concerning Qi Ao and Tan Lu. Shi Jin said, “When we save the child, Brother Lin, I insist on becoming his adoptive father.”
“With the Eight-Armed Dragon King as his adoptive father, he’s bound to grow into a man who stands tall between heaven and earth one day.” Lin Chong smiled. “Not like me.”
“Ha! With Panther Head Lin Chong as his father and me as his adoptive father, his martial skill is going to be unmatched under heaven when he grows up!”
Shi Jin went on talking like this for a while, then said, “Brother Lin, the matters weighing on me this trip south really are too heavy — otherwise I’d have gone with you to save him without a second thought first.”
Lin Chong nodded. Shi Jin continued: “On the day of the Datong riot, those Han who had risen up had already fallen straight into Wanyan Xiyin’s trap — the whole city was put to the sword. I retrieved Azure Dragon Crouch and, on my way out, found a wounded man waiting for me. I won’t hide it from you, Brother Lin — this man belonged to the Black Banner. In the chaos at Datong, he pulled off something significant, and then asked me to carry something south with me…”
“You know, Brother Lin, the puppet Qi state has stood for several years now — Liu Yu became its puppet emperor, all because the Jurchens didn’t have the manpower to swallow the Central Plains whole in one go. But during the years the puppet Qi held the Central Plains, the Jurchens also worked quietly to win over a great many Han people, persuading them to defect and pledge sincere loyalty to Jin… This time, the Black Banner seized Liu Yu and forced him to declare his position. Plenty of men who haven’t yet given up hope may take this chance to rise and fight back — but among them, inevitably, there will also be traitors who’ve gone too far to turn back, or who simply have no wish to turn back at all, hidden among the rest… That Black Banner agent managed, in the chaos, to steal out a list, and asked me to carry it south to Lou Shuwan and Yu Yulin, under the Prince of Jin’s command…”
Shi Jin, being straightforward by nature, picked up the bundle beside him and told Lin Chong the whole story, then drew out a small parcel from within it. “Truth be told, on this journey south, I did wonder more than once — if the Black Banner already had agents planted in Datong, they must have had established channels and methods before this. So why come find me, wounded as I was, to carry it? It’s very possible… I’ve been played for a fool.”
Speaking of the possibility that he’d been deceived, Shi Jin actually laughed. “But then I thought about it more. Something this important — maybe it isn’t as simple as I first assumed. Maybe he wanted me drawing attention out in the open, while the real messenger traveled more safely elsewhere. Or maybe this list matters enough that once Wanyan Xiyin learns it’s been leaked, he’ll need to send out false versions to muddy the waters — and what I’m carrying could serve to confirm or contradict what others carry. Or maybe there’s some flaw somewhere inside the Black Banner itself, and if Wanyan Xiyin can produce eight or ten fake versions of this list… then the Prince of Jin and the others fighting the Jurchens in the Central Plains could be facing utter ruin.”
Lin Chong nodded. “Something this critical does need to be verified from multiple directions…”
“Exactly why — even if only a fraction of it turns out to be real, for me, Shi Jin, to die carrying it would still be a death worth dying. Brother Lin.” He spoke as he tossed the small parcel over to Lin Chong, who caught it, his expression puzzled. “It’s just a list, with the evidence attached. There may be some Black Banner code words mixed in, but the man who asked me to carry it south didn’t much care whether I looked through it myself. I thought about having it copied ten times, a hundred times, and spread everywhere — but I worried that would let Xiyin see it first and cause complications I couldn’t predict. With you here now, of course, you can look it over yourself. These traitors — every last one of them deserves to die!”
He clasped his hands behind his head, leaning back against a crooked tree, and said easily, “Once this business is done, Brother Lin, if you don’t want to head south with me, you and I could easily just work our way down this list one household at a time — carry out justice on heaven’s behalf, settle old scores with a clear conscience. Even dying that way would be worth it.” This phrase — carrying out justice on heaven’s behalf — had been Mount Liang’s old rallying cry, spoken countless times more than a decade before, and hearing it now again from Shi Jin’s mouth, it carried a different weight entirely. Perhaps neither of their temperaments had ever suited leadership; commanding troops to resist the Jurchens might well have done more harm than good in their hands. If that was so, then perhaps it was better to follow the example the old master had once set — to hunt down and kill every unrighteous man under heaven, and let that be the more satisfying path. Shi Jin was nearing forty now, and since the fall of Chifeng Mountain, it was only today, meeting Lin Chong again, that he had finally found a road forward once more; the satisfaction in his heart needed no further words.
Lin Chong only glanced briefly at the list before handing it back. Shi Jin smiled. “These years, in Han territory, it’s the Jurchens whose reach goes everywhere unopposed instead. The whole way south, they kept sending word by carrier pigeon ahead of me — always one step ahead, throwing whatever they had at me to get themselves killed. Today I should rest and recover properly — tomorrow I’ll be in better shape to deal with them again…”
He felt lighter now, his body’s many wounds seeming to have healed by half already. That night the stars shone bright overhead; Shi Jin lay in the valley and spoke with Lin Chong a while longer before finally letting himself fall asleep. Lin Chong sat for a long while afterward, his eyes closed, but sleep would not come to him. Now and then he rose and walked about, looking at the spear standing upright in the stone; several times he reached toward it, and each time, in the end, he could not bring himself to touch it. Master Zhou’s words from all those years ago still echoed in his ears; though the man himself was long gone, to Lin Chong it felt as though it had all happened only a moment before, as clear and present as ever.
For more than a decade he had hidden away like a frightened rabbit in some illusory corner, dragging Xu Jinhua and Mu Anping along with him, telling himself that everything around him, past and present, was nothing but illusion. Now, at last, he could see it clearly — his brother Shi was right. This was already an age of chaos.
He had been left behind, more than a decade ago — left behind in some place even further back than that.
Toward Xu Jinhua, what rose in his heart now was an overwhelming guilt; and even toward his own son, whenever he thought of him, that same sense of unreality left him feeling as though he could not breathe. Everything of the past decade felt, in this moment, like nothing more than a long regret. Now there was nothing left at all — and here he was, meeting his brother Shi again from all those years ago. The Eight-Armed Dragon King before him now was bold and heroic, a true hero standing firm and unbroken in the surging chaos of this ravaged age, still able to roar forward covered head to toe in blood, just like their old master once had been. How could Lin Chong himself possibly compare — how could he measure up to even a fraction of that?
He could almost picture it — that night in Xinzhou, Master Zhou and Shi Jin running through that Demon-Subduing Staff technique together. If… if the old master were still alive, and could see his brother Shi standing here now, he would surely give him his highest approval, without a moment’s hesitation.
As for himself, all this way — he had only ever been a fellow disciple who admired from the sidelines while cowering in the shadows…
That night, he stood beside Azure Dragon Crouch in the moonlight, reaching out his hand, weeping without a sound, and yet without a single tear. The deep summer night lay hushed and still, and the surging tides of the world beyond spread outward from where he stood. He felt like a man who had slept through more than a decade of time, only now awakening to find this world stretched out before him, with no bearings left to guide him. The blade of the years had cut his soul to pieces, and now came to collect what it was owed — the accumulated dust and frost of all those lost years.
At midnight, Shi Jin woke once, and saw Lin Chong moving through an unarmed set of spear-forms in the moonlight, his stance plain and unadorned, each movement disciplined and correct, without a trace of ornament or flourish — just as Zhou Tong himself had once moved, as solemn and earnest as a child at practice. Azure Dragon Crouch stood nearby, watching him quietly.
Back in his day at the Royal Fist Hall, Lin Chong had been the disciple whose spear-forms were the finest, the most correct of them all. He had carried the weight of that gift his whole life, and now, after all this winding, roundabout journey, he had finally come full circle, back to where he had started.
Shi Jin drifted back into a deep sleep. At dawn, birdsong in the forest woke him. He sat up and suddenly found the small parcel beside him gone. Shi Jin leapt to his feet, searching for Lin Chong, but he too had vanished. On the boulder where Azure Dragon Crouch had stood, Lin Chong had apparently written two lines using blood from a bitten fingertip.
Brother Shi — I’ve gone to deliver the message. You save Anping for me.
— If fate allows, we’ll meet again someday.
Shi Jin was a man of great skill and iron will, but this journey south had left him carrying no small number of wounds, and the ambush at Bronze Bull Ridge the day before — had Lin Chong not been there beside him — might well have cost him half his life even if he’d managed to escape. And with Mu Anping in Tan Lu’s hands, however lightly Lin Chong had spoken of it, how could he truly have left his own son behind to head south with his brother, even after being pressed to stay the night? He turned it over in his mind and, feeling his own body was of little use just now, decided to take Lin Chong’s place and continue the journey south in his stead. As for the child in Tan Lu’s hands, with a brother of Lin Chong’s skill and character looking after it, there was truly nothing left to worry about.
By the time Shi Jin woke, Lin Chong had already left Azure Dragon Crouch behind and was riding hard, well on his way south.