NOVEL NEXT Es sprinted to the windowsill and looked down but didn’t see that man. He raised his head and found that the masked man had climbed up to the roof over the protruding edge of the porch.
‘You really think all Nestorian monks are weak and frail?’
Es sneered, clamped the staff between his teeth, grabbed the upper windowsill back-handed and swiftly swung onto the roof.
Roofs of houses in this Nestorian temple were flat, broad and perfect for running. Es pursued the masked man, leaping from one roof to another. The masked man’s movement was fast, but Es was just as good. Actually, he was even faster.
Es grew up in a desert in the Western Regions, and his favorite daily activity was running and jumping around in various grottoes and sand caves. As time passed, he developed superb movement skills, which allowed him to maneuver in steep and dangerous terrains just like he was walking on level ground –he called it pass-and-cross.
The escape route this assassin chose happened to tickle to his competitive itch.
Sensing Es was getting closer and closer, the masked man leaped over a gap between two roofs, spun turned around and swung his saber. Es, who had leaped up high in mid-air, couldn’t dodge the tip of the blade. In the nick of time Es flung his robe forward. The moment the saber slashed through the robe, he jerked the robe and forced the tip of the saber away from him. It scraped his shoulder nonetheless, leaving a bloody cut.
With this momentum, Es rammed his head into the masked man’s chest and sent him flying. They rolled across the roof and started grappling. Es unclenched his jaw, gripped the staff and hit the man’s head, yelling in fury, “I’m a Persian prince! How dare you flaunt your skills in front of me?”
As he struck the man repeatedly, a bolt flew through the air and hit the head of Es’ staff. If the bolt had been a few inches closer, it would have penetrated Es’ throat. The moment Es was distracted, the masked man pushed him away and jumped off the roof of the two-story building.
Es had never expected this assassin to have a helper. He darted to the edge of the roof and saw that someone in the distance was aiming a crossbow at him. He ducked quickly as another bolt flew past his scalp.
Grabbing this opportunity, the masked man picked himself up and hobbled to the crossbowman, who dropped the crossbow and, along with the masked man, ran past the octahedral stone Sutra Pillar, heading straight for the front gate of the Nestorian temple.
It was too late. Es had no choice but to yell out loud, hoping some of those monks at the gateway could hear him. However, those monks were busy handing out gifts to visitors at the noisy gate. None of them would have expected two assassins running out behind them.
But those monks were not the only ones who were at the gateway.
The batch of Lubi soldiers had been guarding the gate all along by order of Zhang Xiaojing. On the sight of the two murderous figures, they whipped out their sabers, formed a circle and closed in on the two assassins.
The two killers reacted immediately. They each fished out a handful of copper coins from their chest pockets and cast them upwards. Those coins fell to the ground in all directions, as if some heavenly maids was scattering petals. By-standers exclaimed in amazement, “Flower-money!”
Scattering Flower-money was a custom in Chang’an –People would scatter copper coins while enjoying the lantern show, and allowed others to pick them up. It was believed that the more coins one scattered, the better fortune the person would receive in the future. But this old custom often caused a lot of trouble, so the government imposed a ban on it. On hearing that somebody was scattering Flower-money in public, bystanders were surprised and rejoiced. The news spread quickly, and people flooded over to the temple and scrambled for the coins on the ground, causing great pandemonium.
When the coins on the ground were gone, so did the two killers, leaving a dozen Lubi soldiers in bewilderment. At this moment, Es, who had jumped off the roof, arrived at the gateway. On seeing this scene, he asked, “Is the name of your commandant Zhang Xiaojing? His face chapped, his sight compromised?”
The solder looked confused.
“Um, I mean, his face is full of wrinkles and he lost an eye.”
“Oh, that’s him. He is indeed Commandant Zhang.” The soldier finally understood.
Es scratched his head, embarrassment filled his handsome face. Though he was remarkably eloquent, he had no idea how to tactfully explain to this officer that he had just locked up this Commandant Zhang.
Jing’an Department, Guangde Fang.
A petty official was the first to fall. Heading for the main watchtower with a stack of files, he suddenly saw a dozen black figures coming at him. He had just widened his eyes when a short-ridged knife went through his throat.
Two guards were next. They guarded the area connecting the back garden and the main hall. They were chatting when suddenly their bodies froze at the same time and fell to the ground, a bolt sticking out each of their necks.
The first black figure stopped here. He was the one who climbed up the main watchtower a short while ago, and also the leader of this team. He stooped down, pulled the two bolts out of the two bodies, reloaded his crossbow and signaled “clear”.
Five black figures immediately advanced and occupied nearby high ground and a couple of positions on the wings, aiming their crossbows at the path leading to the back garden. Then a couple others returned to the gap of the water channel, dragged over several heavy sacks, opened them and fished out a simple water-canister and a couple of little ceramic pots.
This kind of water-canister was a section of bamboo with a hole in the front and a pushing rod at the rear. The rod end inside the tube was wrapped in compact cotton wadding. If one pulled the rod, water would be sucked into the tube through the hole; if one pushes the rod, the water would be shot. This device was designed to put out fires, but it broke too easily and held so little water, making it quite unpopular.
As a disposable equipment, however, it would really come in handy.
In an orderly manner, they started filling up their water-canisters from those ceramic pots. The leader stood and watched the eaves of Jing’an Department’s main hall, excited about the upcoming slaughter. Suddenly, he raised his hand, removed his mask, tossed a roll of mint leaf and started chewing on it.
Long Bo’s hooknose appeared exceptionally hideous under the night sky.
During this time, a couple of petty officials who came to use the latrine were all instantly killed and dumped inside the ditches.
After everyone loaded their water-canisters and carried them at their sides, Long Bo barked in Sogdian, “Split into three squads. One goes to the main hall. The other two go to the two wings. Whoever goes to the left-wing, keep an eye out for the back hall. On engagement, crossbows for guards, sabers for officials, and water-canisters for items. Take control of the situation as soon as possible.”
Then he emphasized, “The job must be finished in a quarter-hour.”
Everyone nodded in unison. Long Bo spat out the mint leaf he chewed and put on the mask again. “Let’s send some lanterns to our superiors in Jing’an Department.”
The small door of the confessional swung open with a bang, and long-lost light re-entered the room. Adjusting to the light, Tanqi and Zhang Xiaojing squinted at the same time.
Es didn’t try to excuse himself and came up to them and apologized in a verbose, pedantic speech which included phrases like “infinite self-criticism” and “anguished self-accusation”. He almost recited every word from the Imperial Confessions written by the last emperor.
Tanqi interrupted him and asked him what had just happened. Knowing that he was in the wrong, Es gave them a full account of the incident. Cold as ice, Zhang Xiaojing was too concerned to blame Es and said, “Take me there immediately.”
Seriously injured, Elder Puzhe had been transferred to a quiet prayer room and where physicians of the temple treated him. Stabbed in the chest, he was deeply wounded and fell into a coma.
Zhang Xiaojing walked over and examined him. He had a chapped hatchet face with a broad nose and hollow eyes, bearing no similarity to any Central Plain people at all, but his features were also not typical Turkic look.
This matter was very tricky. Currently, they had no way to confirm whether Elder Puzhe was Yousha or not, but for Jing’an Department to carry out further operations, they had to be a hundred-percent sure of it.
Monks had searched his bedroom but found nothing related to his identity except his monk certificate, which was not very useful because it might be a counterfeit made by the Turks. Those Turks could even grab a real Elder Puzhe, kill him and take his monk certificate.
After contemplating for a while, Zhang Xiaojing stooped down and started stripping Elder Puzhe’s robe. Es interjected, “Isn’t it inappropriate to disrespect the body of an eminent monk?” Tanqi replied coldly, “If he is the Turk named Yousha, will you still call him an eminent monk?” Locked in the confessional for quite a while, she hated the guts of this stupid deacon who acted on the strength of his own imagined cleverness.
Zhang Xiaojing pushed the physician aside and tore the robe apart, revealing a senile body. There was a horrifying long scar on the lower right abdomen, flesh curled outwards, giving the scar a snake-like appearance. Zhang Xiaojing felt the scar with his hands, then his raised head and said that it was left by a Mo-saber.
Mo-sabers were 4 feet in total and had 3-feet blades, which were issued to crack cavalry of Tang Dynasty. Judging from the length and position of the scar, the victim must have been hit on horseback by a horizontal slash, and more than half of the blade hit him. He was incredibly lucky to be alive.
Zhang Xiaojing parted the victim’s thighs and saw that there were thick calluses inside the thighs, pointing to years of horseback-riding. On the sides of his waist were two curved calluses. If one walked with armor on very often, the swinging lower edge of the cuirass would rub against the skin, leaving this kind of callus –and the armor had to be of very high quality.
The victim had been riding and wearing armor for many years. He had been wounded by a Mo-saber of Tang Army. The true identity of this Elder Puzhe who stayed away from everyone was clear as day.
“Now I know why Turkic Wolf Guards kidnapped Wang Zhongsi’s daughter. It was all because of Dignitary Yousha’s ego, as I had expected.” Zhang Xiaojing stood up and clapped his hands.
Residents of the prairie had a culture of vengeance. They believed that to heal a wound, one must rub the blood of the foe’s offspring on the wound. Dignitary Yousha probably fought Wang Zhongsi many years ago and was seriously wounded, which had left him some chronic diseases. This time, he came to Chang’an to direct operation Kailu Hodo, and it was only convenient that he would abduct Wang Zhongsi’s daughter to treat his condition.
They realized that if it weren’t for his selfish motive, Jing’an Department might not have tracked down those Wolf Guards.
Tanqi asked suspiciously, “But who came here to kill Yousha?”
Zhang Xiaojing said, “Those who manipulated the Turkic Wolf Guards, of course. Since they’ve already gotten mountain tallow, Yousha became useless to them. To prevent us from tracking them down, they have to sever all relations. This guy plotted his betrayal for so long in exchange for wealth and power. Ha. He didn’t think that he was dancing with the devil.”
He became more concerned after these words. This mysterious organization was ruthless and decisive. Apart from Yousha, they might be cutting off other potential clues one by one right now, which would make it more and more difficult to investigate. Besides, their sudden actions to tie up loose ends was an indication that something big was about to happen, yet Jing’an Department was still in the dark.
Yousha was in a coma, so they couldn’t get any information from him. There were no useful clues in his room either. Zhang Xiaojing’s mind was working madly but he still couldn’t figure out a way to break the deadlock. A wave of mental fatigue swept over him, and him had a taste of despair.
Usually, he would never give up. Maybe he was exhausted after all, or maybe it was because of all the pressure he had to face all this time. Leaning against the wall of the quiet prayer room, Zhang Xiaojing closed his only eye, not even bothering to wipe off the dust.
At this moment, Yousha suddenly burst into coughs, as if he was about to come around. There were traces of blood in his saliva and his whole body was convulsing vehemently. The physician sprinted over and pressed Yousha’s limbs against the bed, sweating buckets. “We have to transfer him to a clinic immediately, or it’ll be too late!”