Chapter Five: The Mysterious Zhou Dajiang

The two found a sheltered spot, roasted a rabbit over a fire, and shared the meal. The offal, as usual, went to Bejo’s grateful belly. At midnight, after Baozi had fallen asleep, Zhou Yi stepped out of the cave alone. He swept a clear space, sat cross-legged with his tongue pressed to his palate, mind lucid and undisturbed, intent on taming the purple energy within his body.

The night passed uneventfully. At dawn, the two awoke to find that the group of eight had already set out. Zhou Yi and Baozi went to the spot where the eight had rested but found nothing out of the ordinary, so they kept their distance, trailing the group. Today was not like the day before. Yesterday, the eight had headed straight into the deep mountains; today, they walked while scanning their surroundings, splitting up as if searching for something.

So it went for two days. During the day, one of them would watch the eight while the other hunted. The vast forests and secretive movements of Zhou Yi and Baozi kept the eight oblivious to their presence. Yet curiosity is finite, and by the end of the second day, as the eight once again prepared to rest, Baozi’s patience was spent.

"Yi, whatever those eight are up to, it has nothing to do with us. Let’s just head down the mountain," Baozi said.

"If we go now, these two days of following them will have been for nothing. Besides, there’s nothing waiting for us at the foot of the mountain. Let’s see what these people are after," Zhou Yi replied.

"Forget it. They’re probably just here for some club moss. In this bitter cold, where do they think they’ll find any? Honestly, these eight are as dense as club moss themselves," Baozi muttered with a pout.

Baozi’s words stirred Zhou Yi’s own longing for comfort. Though hunting kept them fed and his nightly cultivation kept him sharp, two days without washing left him uncomfortable. He was about to respond when one of the eight returned from afar, abandoning a wild pheasant to say something to the others—but they were too far to hear.

Seeing this, Zhou Yi quickly signaled Baozi. The eight were already heading deeper into the mountains. Baozi hurried to bury the fire with snow, tore off a pheasant leg and stuffed it in his mouth. The bird was half-cooked; one bite and Baozi spat it out. Zhou Yi, on the other hand, finished his undercooked leg and, together, they crept after the eight.

Soon, Zhou Yi caught a glimpse of a temple in the depths of the mountains. It was too distant to discern its details, but seeing it stirred a sense of kinship within him. How could there be a temple in these mountains? Zhou Yi had lived at the foot of the mountain for years and had never seen or even heard of such a place. "Have you ever seen a temple here?" he asked.

Baozi was momentarily stunned. "What temple? Where?" He asked twice, clearly not lying.

Zhou Yi pointed. "Isn’t that it? Or are you blind with sleep in your eyes?" he teased.

Baozi squinted in the direction Zhou Yi indicated, but after a moment, shook his head. He saw nothing.

Zhou Yi called Bejo to heel, and the three—two men and a wolf—edged closer. The nearer they drew, the more startled Zhou Yi became. He could now see the temple’s outline, and it was identical to the Xuanming Temple he had seen during his out-of-body experience. The two stone lions still stood on either side of the gate, but now the temple was dilapidated, a far cry from the grandeur he had seen in his vision.

"Can you see it now?" Zhou Yi asked, though his tone was certain—at this distance, Baozi couldn’t possibly miss it.

Baozi shook his head again, seeing nothing. Zhou Yi was puzzled but said no more.

Now close enough, they could see the eight men’s actions. The eight stood according to the eight trigrams, hands forming mudras as they moved counter to the usual order. Zhou Yi and Baozi, unfamiliar with such matters, watched in utter confusion.

"What are they doing?" Baozi asked.

"Looks like some kind of formation—who knows. Just watch and keep quiet," Zhou Yi replied.

Bejo, as if understanding the need for stealth, lay quietly beside Zhou Yi, licking his face until it was slick with wolf saliva.

After a while, the eight were drenched in sweat; two of them stumbled, their steps faltering from fatigue. Clearly, their strength was lacking. The backlash from the formation was shared among them, but with two weakening, the other six had to bear more. If they’d all been strong enough, it would have been fine, but now the backlash was too much. Suddenly, one of them spat a mouthful of blood, and the formation collapsed.

Three were badly injured, the other five not unscathed. They sat to tend their wounds, heedless of their wild surroundings.

From the distance, another figure approached the eight. Zhou Yi and Baozi, hidden behind a tree, hadn’t seen when the man arrived, but when they saw his face, they were shocked. The man’s face was expressionless, deeply wrinkled like an old man of seventy, but his stride was steady and vigorous. It was Zhou Yi’s father, Zhou Dajiang.

"Hmph!" Zhou Dajiang snorted coldly, then said, "You eight moved in reverse of the trigrams, trying to break the temple’s protection."

At his words, the eight, ignoring their injuries, rose to face him.

Zhou Dajiang regarded them coldly. "Leave. This is not a place for you. Tell your master: as long as I, Wu Xihazi; Danjiang, am here, don’t even think about this place."

The eight gave no reply, but left quickly. Zhou Yi, listening from behind the tree, was filled with questions. He had grown up at his father’s side—how could his father be guarding such a secret, with the family none the wiser? It made no sense.

As Zhou Yi pondered, Zhou Dajiang’s voice rang out again. "Come out."

Knowing they could hide no longer, Zhou Yi and Baozi stepped out respectfully and greeted him.

"Forget what you saw today. Speak of it to no one—not even your mother. Let’s go, down the mountain," Zhou Dajiang said, then turned and left without another word.

Zhou Yi wanted to ask why the eight feared his father, but seeing his father’s stern face, he kept silent. Still, he resolved to uncover the truth: why could Baozi not see the temple? Why were the eight injured for no apparent reason? Zhou Yi didn’t understand the concept of backlash from a formation, so their injuries puzzled him.

On the way back, they heard soft snoring. Tracing the sound, Zhou Yi found a hollow in a dead tree a meter thick. Inside, a black bear was hibernating. Baozi raised his hunting rifle and shot the bear in the head. It took half a day to drag the bear out, and peering inside, they found two cubs.

Zhou Yi grimaced, knowing they’d done wrong, but with the mother dead, regret was useless. They covered the den with branches, slung the bear between them, and left.

It was the era of the Republic. In the mountains, one could kill wild animals freely, with no laws to stop them. But even if there were laws, weren’t bear paws and shark fins still served on some people’s tables?

PS: I wish I could upload more chapters—I want to! But chasing speed means mistakes, and as a newcomer, I can’t balance quality and speed. Fellow readers, please be generous with your tolerance. If you spot flaws, point them out in the reviews—I thank you in advance. And, by the way, could I ask for some flowers, clicks, and favorites? They cost nothing, but together we can help the book’s numbers look a little better...