That night, a northwesterly wind swept through the Logging Camp. Its howling rose and fell, swirling through the sea of trees like wailing ghosts and wolves.
Lian Youming lay on the heated brick bed with his arms beneath his head. He looked asleep, but his mind was going over the figures on the Silk Brocade, especially the meridians marked on them.
On a whim, he imagined himself becoming a little fish and swimming into his own body. He pictured those meridians as mighty rivers and roamed through them, almost without restraint, letting his imagination soar and his wild thoughts run free, as though this alone could ease the aches all over his body.
But for some reason, all those imaginings suddenly dissolved.
Without warning, the deadly fight on the train surfaced in Lian Youming's mind.
Fists and feet clashed, figures crossing one another.
But he soon drove it away.
After all, an uneventful existence was the norm, and the life an ordinary person ought to lead.
As for that world he did not belong to, it had been nothing more than a fleeting dream.
After that brief, heart-stopping excitement, it was time to wake up.
In a place where thrown water turned to ice and exhaled breath became frost, Lian Youming could think of little beyond eating his fill, keeping warm, and sleeping each day. Even if he had money, there was nowhere to spend it.
Fortunately, Platoon Leader Yang had said that once winter came, they could use their spare time to put together performances and read some books.
Outside the window, the cold moon hung high. Its pallid light seeped through the sea of trees and fell into the dormitory through the rattling window paper.
Lian Youming rolled up from the bed and took some of the dried meat Qin Yuhu had sent him from beneath the bedding on the heated platform.
The others took out the things they had brought too. Wrapped in their quilts, they gathered around the heated bed to get to know each other and build some friendship.
But with everything ready to eat, Liu Dabiao, who had gone out to piss, still had not returned.
Yu Wen grew impatient. "Did that guy fall into the pit or something? How can taking a piss be this much trouble?"
Lian Youming, meanwhile, was drowsy. During this time, he had followed Third Brother Xie around and learned pretty much all the terrain near the Logging Camp. He went out alone early and returned late, and still had to train the donkey and haul logs. He was exhausted.
"Should we go out and check?"
"In this cold? I'm not going."
As they went back and forth, a strange sound suddenly came from outside the window.
"Rrrow!"
"Who the hell is out there screeching in the middle of the night?"
Yu Wu was lively by nature and swore instinctively.
But his expression changed the moment he finished.
That did not sound like anything a human could make.
It sounded more like some kind of wild animal.
"This is bad!"
Lian Youming's keen eyes flew open. Without another word, he scrambled off the bed, wrapped himself in his greatcoat, snatched up the rifle beside him, and hurried out.
"Lock the doors and windows. Whatever you do, don't come out."
He left the dormitory.
Cold wind rushed into his chest. Feeling the overwhelming chill bearing down on him, Lian Youming tucked in his collar and gripped his rifle tightly. Without a second thought, he headed toward the latrine, as resolute as a man charging a pillbox with explosives.
Apart from the ammunition he normally collected from Platoon Leader Yang, he kept one spare round in his rifle for emergencies.
With Liu Dabiao still missing and that animal's roar, the man had most likely run into danger.
Surely he couldn't be that unlucky.
Holding his breath, he advanced swiftly in a crouch through the bright moonlight and soon reached the latrine.
The night wind carried sounds of movement from other people too. Presumably, the militia guarding the Logging Camp had all heard the roar, but could not immediately tell which direction it had come from.
"Liu Dabiao?"
Anxious to save him, Lian Youming could not worry about much else. He slipped into the latrine and called softly.
But his voice vanished without a trace, drawing no response at all.
By the moonlight, he quickly scanned every corner of the latrine. When he saw a patch of dark red on the ground, his heart sank.
"Blood?"
Just as Lian Youming stood there in alarm and uncertainty, a weak cry for help came from the cesspit.
"Lian Youming, I'm down here! Help me!"
Lian Youming looked toward the voice. A head was faintly visible in the cesspit. The man sounded close to tears, his hands clinging to the edge, his whole body smeared with shit and piss.
Seeing that he was still alive, Lian Youming disregarded the filth and made to reach down without a second thought. But as he bent over, he noticed that Liu Dabiao's expression had changed. His eyes were wide, his pupils trembling as he stared fixedly at him.
The corner of Lian Youming's eye twitched. He was about to ask what the hell the fellow was doing when, before he could speak, he felt warmth on the back of his neck, as though something had dripped onto it. His heart jolted.
Shit.
Liu Dabiao had recovered his senses by then. Utter terror filled his face as he kept signaling with his eyes.
Lian Youming lowered his gaze to the shadow at his feet. Within the shadow cast by the eaves, something seemed to be crouching up high, half its body exposed as it looked down at him.
As for the warm substance dripping onto his neck, it was most likely the creature's saliva.
Something that could scale walls-was it a leopard? Or a lynx?
But there was no time to think. Lian Youming's pupils contracted as the dark shape silently pounced, swift as lightning, its leap almost like flight. In an instant, a foul, blood-stinking gust struck the back of his head. Every hair on his body stood on end, and he hurriedly twisted aside and rolled away.
As he rolled, Lian Youming finally saw the creature clearly.
It resembled a tiger, yet was no tiger; a cat, yet no cat. Black and yellow markings covered its body, its eyes shone green, and saliva dripped from its mouth.
"A yellow tiger?"
It was actually an Asian golden cat.
The animal commonly known among the people as a "biao."
Lian Youming was astonished, but before he could steady himself, a clump of cotton burst out in front of his chest and scattered in the wind.
A gash had been clawed open across the chest of his military greatcoat.
What sharp claws and fangs this beast had.
While he was still reeling, something blurred before his eyes. A foul, bloody gust rushed straight at him, and a sharp claw reached for his throat.
"Fuck you!"
Alarmed and furious, Lian Youming realized there was no time to fire. He simply released his rifle and leaned aside to dodge the claw, whipping up his greatcoat to throw it over the golden cat.
With its vision blocked, the golden cat's swipe missed. Just as it tried to maneuver, a straight right leg swept out beneath the coat and struck its flank and belly.
In a flash, the two dark figures passed each other.
Lian Youming rolled several meters away and steadied himself on one knee, slowly shedding his greatcoat as he narrowed his eyes at the vicious beast poised to pounce beneath the moon. But when he felt warmth trickling down his cheek, his heart tightened. In the end, he still had not been as fast as the beast.
Before he could catch his breath, the golden cat sprang again, baring its fangs. Even the fleshy barbs on its scarlet tongue seemed to stand erect.
But Lian Youming was no pushover. He drew a breath, channeled strength into all ten fingers, and quietly hooked his right foot. The greatcoat that had slipped to his feet flew up into the wind like a great net, spreading toward the pouncing shadow.
Unexpectedly, the beast reacted with extraordinary speed. Though already airborne, it swung its thick tail and actually changed direction in midair, twisting its torso to avoid the coat coming toward it.
But behind the coat, a figure advanced rather than retreating, likewise leaping into the air.
This time, his pounce landed squarely on target.
Man and beast collided, smashing a great hole through the latrine wall and tumbling into the darkness outside.
Lian Youming reached to seize it with one hand, using a military grappling technique. His hand opened like an eagle's claw, intending to clamp around the beast's neck. But with the two of them tangled together and the vicious animal constantly rolling and struggling, he could hardly bring his strength to bear.
The two figures tumbled and rolled some distance.
Seeing the beast about to break free from his grasp, Lian Youming hardened his resolve. He looped one arm around the golden cat's neck and clamped down, then clenched his other hand into a fist and hammered it with all his strength.
In the savage struggle, the two figures remained locked together.
The golden cat clawed and bit, its thick tail lashing like an iron whip with a series of sharp cracks.
Lian Youming was drenched in blood, but he refused to let go.
At that moment, he was alarmed and furious, yet extraordinarily excited. Hot blood ran down his face, and pain stabbed through his body. But the stimulation only made his punches faster and harder. Before long, thick droplets of blood covered the thumb side of his clenched fist.
Only after he had battered it for a full five or six minutes did the golden cat's frenzied biting gradually subside.
Lian Youming still did not dare release it. As they rolled, he seized a chance to pick up a jagged piece of wood and stabbed the golden cat hard in the belly several more times. Only when the beast in his arms had stopped moving completely did he collapse, as though all the air had gone out of him.
The moment he relaxed, Lian Youming felt as though his body had fallen apart. Burning pain spread everywhere.
He lay beneath the moonlight, panting heavily. Glancing aside, he saw blood spilling from the golden cat's mouth and nose. Its head had been beaten into a bloody pulp, and several holes pierced its belly, with its guts spilling out.
But just as he tried to catch his breath, a sudden chill ran through him. His gaze fixed on a pair of bright, cruel, cold eyes watching him from above, on the branch of an old tree only a few paces away.
Even with its body hidden in shadow, the creature's visible outline was much larger than the golden cat.
By the moonlight, through its barely visible spots, Lian Youming drew a deep breath. It was actually a full-grown Northeast Leopard.
What was going on? Why hadn't those militiamen come yet?
Lian Youming groaned inwardly. Before he could struggle up, the leopard shot down from the tree.
But faced with death, how could Lian Youming resign himself to his fate? Still gripping the jagged wood, he prepared to fight to the death.
Yet most of his strength was already spent, and wounds covered his body. Before he could raise his hand, the spotted leopard was before him, its lowered head bearing two brilliantly gleaming eyes. Its jaws opened as it pounced for the kill.
It was over.
Smelling that scorching, bloody gust, Lian Youming went cold all over, his eyes wide with fury.
But just as his neck was about to be bitten through and his blood spilled on the spot, at that critical instant, a figure suddenly appeared behind the leopard.
The newcomer moved with flying strides, swift as an arrow loosed from a bow, yet made not the slightest sound. His leaps and bounds were ghostlike. In the instant he sprang into the air, he silently flashed behind the leopard, reached out his right hand with all five fingers spread wide, and pressed down.
He pressed on the leopard's lower back.
Lian Youming's eyes widened. He saw the brilliance visibly fade from the leopard's eyes. Carried by its forward momentum, its body flew three or four meters like a kite with its string cut and slammed headfirst into a tree stump.
Just like that, it was dead.
The dark figure drifted to the ground, still without the slightest sound.
Lian Youming saw him clearly. The newcomer was none other than the old man in black.
The old man lowered his eyes and bared his teeth in a strange grin. "The White Lotus Sect's Beast-Driving Technique? Haven't seen that in years."
He was not speaking to Lian Youming. It was more as though he were addressing the darkness, the cold wind.
Lian Youming was utterly horrified. From what the old man said, these wild animals had actually been deliberately driven here by someone.
And what the hell was the White Lotus Sect?
Wasn't that something that only existed in history books?
As though answering his suspicions, two gunshots suddenly rang out from the other end of the Logging Camp, mingled with several animal roars.
No wonder those militiamen had not arrived in time. Presumably, they could not get away either.
Meanwhile, the instant the old man in black finished speaking, his stooped body moved again, like a wisp of a ghost beneath the moon. His footwork looked ordinary, yet a single step carried him four or five meters. It was truly astonishing.
Lian Youming lay on the ground, his hands and feet icy. The moment the old man stepped forward, another dark figure appeared beneath the moonlight. Dressed in night clothes, the figure drifted backward, fleeing without a fight.
Well, then. There had been someone else hiding in the dark.
Lian Youming was shaken.
But the old man in black did not give chase. Instead, he turned to look at him.
Lian Youming jolted and hurriedly shut his eyes, pretending to have fainted.
The old man did not fall for it. He said flatly, "Boy, where did you learn that Eagle Claw Kung Fu you just used? Absolute rubbish. You're disgracing what our forebears passed down."
When Lian Youming had grappled with the golden cat earlier, he had instinctively used a move from Eagle Claw Kung Fu. But he had not been taught it. He had seen someone else perform it and secretly worked it out on his own. In his earlier tension, he had used it alongside his grappling techniques.
Lian Youming flushed with embarrassment and was about to speak. But when he opened his eyes, there was no trace of the old man beneath the bright moonlight.
"How do these people all come and go like ghosts?"
After muttering a couple of words, he suddenly remembered something, hurriedly climbed up from the ground, and strode toward the latrine.
Another chapter at six this evening.
(End of chapter)
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