Wenmosi leaped up, vaulting onto his horse. "After them!" he bellowed.
Gu Shiyan halted him. "Wait! This is suspicious. Those two carriages were abandoned at the shrine—how could another Turkic carriage appear?"
Wenmosi's mind worked swiftly. "They must have had a relay carriage waiting beyond the pass! If we don't pursue now, once they cross the frontier, it'll be like fish vanishing into the sea!"
Though Gu sensed deep misgivings, the urgency left no time for deliberation. It was like a Go game reaching mid-stage where the opponent's territory solidified—only a desperate invasion could turn the tide, even at great peril. Mounting swiftly, Gu joined the chase. The fort commander dispatched Lieutenant Liu with three hundred soldiers for support, forcing the portly merchant who provided the tip to guide them.
Wenmosi and Gu flanked the merchant as they charged ahead, seventeen Uighur warriors close behind. Lieutenant Liu and his foot soldiers fell back.
Ten li vanished beneath their hooves. At the northern foothills of the Qinling Mountains, dense forests clawed at the sky. The merchant cried, "Here! I saw the carriage here!" and begged to be released.
Dusk had settled, clouds scattering to reveal trampled snow leading toward a distant cliff bend. They urged their horses forward, rounding the cliff to find hoofprints plunging into thick woodland—no wheel tracks.
Wenmosi reined in, scanning the snow-blanketed expanse. Only this trail bore marks. They plunged into the forest.
Trees crowded the narrow path; knee-deep snow slowed them. After another ten li, full darkness fell, relieved only by a crescent moon casting ghostly light on the snow.
Gu's unease hardened into dread. "Halt! Halt!" he shouted.
The party circled their mounts. Gu declared, "The kidnappers couldn't have cleared the pass so fast. We've ridden relentlessly—they cannot be ahead of us."
"We must see that carriage!" Wenmosi insisted.
"It's a trap!" Gu countered.
"Their aim was kidnapping, not ambush!"
Suddenly, a flicker of torchlight pierced the gloom ahead. "There! Charge!" Wenmosi roared, spurring forward. His warriors followed with answering cries.
"Don't rush in!" Gu's warning was lost to the drumming hooves. He turned—Lieutenant Liu's men were nowhere in sight. Alone, he spurred after them.
A deadly symphony erupted from the valley ahead: the hiss of arrows, clang of steel, shouts of fury, and the heart-rending screams of wounded horses.
Gu knew—an ambush! Sword drawn, he kicked his mount into a gallop.
Moonlight revealed Wenmosi and his seventeen trapped in a narrow defile, warriors already fallen. "Tang soldiers are here!" Gu shouted, sword flashing as he tore into the fray.
A scimitar whistled toward his head. Gu blocked—a numbing shock jarred his arm. The bearded horseman wheeled, blade raised high for a killing stroke. Mounted combat favored the slashing scimitar; Gu's swordplay was ill-suited. He twisted aside, avoiding the blade—but his horse took the gash across its neck. With a final scream, it collapsed.
Gu rolled clear, scrambling up. A gravelly voice commanded, "Kill Wenmosi and Najiechuai before reinforcements come! A thousand households to the one who brings their heads!"
"General Wenmosi! Break back toward the pass! The soldiers—" Gu's cry died as hoofbeats pounded behind him. Cold steel bit the air at his nape.
Planting his feet gave Gu agility. He pivoted, evading the slash, and thrust backward. His blade found horseflesh. The beast reared, but its rider clung fast.
Gu's swordsmanship, learned from the renowned Lady Gongsun, had never faced true mortal combat.
"Brothers! To Lord Gu! Cough— Cough—" Wenmosi's rasping order ended in a fit. A dozen riders veered toward Gu, only to be cut off ten yards away. The clash of steel echoed cruelly in the snowy vale.
Gu assessed the scene: fifty foes, weaving and shouting. On foot, he could only dodge. Reinforcements lagged.
Trapped in the treeless hollow, two riders closed in from the flanks. Gu had nowhere to retreat.
"Ba-po-luo! Ba-po-luo!" A familiar cry pierced the chaos—A'luotuo! "Here!" Gu shouted back, but his foot slipped, sending him crashing down. Horses thundered toward him. Rolling desperately, he lost all direction—a forest of churning hooves surrounded him.
A'luotuo charged in on his mule, iron staff whirling. "Clang! Clang!" Two scimitars flew wide. The staff struck again—a horse's skull shattered silently. It stumbled and fell.
Gu felt himself hauled onto the mule. "Save Wenmosi first!" he ordered. Riding double hindered them. "A'luotuo, break them out! I'll wait here!" Gu slid down.
A'luotuo barreled into the fray, staff clearing a path. The gravelly voice snarled, "Where did this black devil come from? Jie Zang! Zhuxie Chixin! Cut him down!"
Two expert horsemen emerged, moonlight glinting on their blades. Pressed hard, A'luotuo glimpsed only three or four Uighurs still standing. Roaring, he drove his attackers back, vaulted from the mule, and landed amidst the encircled men. An enemy raised his sword; A'luotuo's descending staff crushed him like a thunderbolt. Seizing the fallen horse, he plunged into the knot of survivors. "Wenmosi?" A grunt answered. "Break out!" A'luotuo wheeled, staff churning a path. Four riders followed.
Swords bit A'luotuo's back—he ignored them, focused only on the breach. "Well done, A'luotuo!" Gu's voice rang out. Glancing back, A'luotuo saw two riders emerge, Wenmosi among them.
The four fled, pursued relentlessly. Less than a li later, Wenmosi bellowed and tumbled from his saddle.
Gu and the others reined in. Wenmosi's right chest was pierced; blood soaked his heavy robes—an arrow wound sustained earlier. Gritting through agony, he'd fought free only to collapse now.
Enemy hooves pounded closer. A'luotuo grasped Wenmosi's arm to haul him up, but searing pain lanced his back—his strength failed. Gu lifted Wenmosi onto his own horse, and they galloped for Dasan Pass.
Horse and men faltered; pursuit closed in. Then, Lieutenant Liu's voice cut through the night: "Left Golden Bird General! Lord Gu! Is that you?" Dark shapes materialized ahead.
Seeing reinforcements, the pursuers reined in. A whistle shrilled; they wheeled as one and vanished into the snowy forest.
Liu's face fell seeing the survivors. "Ambushed at the pass mouth. We lost nearly a hundred men. Knowing you were in peril, we pushed hard." A'luotuo nodded confirmation to Gu.
Wenmosi convulsed, vomiting blood.
"Medic!" Gu shouted. A trembling soldier examined Wenmosi: his fur coat hung in tatters from a dozen wounds; the lung-piercing arrow was fatal. "Removing it kills him," the medic despaired, bandaging only the lesser wounds. Only one of the seventeen Uighur warriors survived, grievously hurt.
As soldiers prepared a stretcher, Wenmosi raised a trembling hand. "Bring back... my fallen... Uighur sons."
Liu hesitated, fearing another ambush in the dark. "Rest first, General. We'll retrieve them at dawn."
Wenmosi's hand remained stubbornly raised.
"I'll go with Lieutenant Liu," Gu stated. "Survivors need us now."
Liu could refuse no longer. A hundred soldiers marched back.
The valley was a charnel house—thirty corpses, no survivors. A few horses stood vigil over dead masters under the waning moon. Silently, soldiers gathered the dead.
Midnight at Dasan Pass. Gu, sleepless for two days, slumped over his horse's neck. He was shaken awake—Wenmosi was failing.
Dawn tinged the sky. Wenmosi's face was waxen, his great beard like frost-blasted grass. Seeing Gu, he forced a ghost of a smile. "Gu... friend... come."
Gu clasped his hand.
"Help Najiechuai... find Shanluo... You can." Wenmosi's voice was a thread.
Gu squeezed his hand. "Rest. Shanluo hasn't crossed the frontier. I go now to join Najiechuai."
Wenmosi fumbled inside his robe, producing two objects: a fierce tiger carved from Hetian jade, and a fire-agate ring set with Loulan gemstone, encircled by tiny gold beads forming mystic patterns. He gave the ring to Gu, the jade tiger for Najiechuai.
The finality chilled Gu. Words failed.
Taking leave of the fort commander, Gu prepared to find Najiechuai. Wenmosi and the wounded warrior remained. A'luotuo, ignoring his own back wound, followed his master.
Fort horses carried them swiftly over the frozen land. Forty li out, they met a Uighur messenger sent by Najiechuai: Najiechuai had found Shanluo's trail and pursued alone, leaving the man to report.
"Which direction?" Gu demanded. The messenger pointed—toward Chang'an.
"Disaster!" Gu's whip cracked the snow. "We've been played! Kidnapping Shanluo was bait to lure Wenmosi and Najiechuai to their deaths! Yinyin Chuo is vicious!"
Najiechuai had left at the third watch—far too late to overtake. They raced for Hancheng.
At Hancheng's gate, the guard commander eagerly reported: Najiechuai had eaten heartily at dawn, changed horses, and sped toward Chang'an.
Gu breathed easier—closer to the capital meant less risk of ambush. The danger lay west, beyond Tong Pass. Refusing a meal, they took only baked bread and rode on.
Gu ordered the messenger: "Ride hard! Find Najiechuai! Tell him to join the Nine Gates Commander in searching Chang'an. He must NOT chase alone beyond Tong Pass! If he's already left the city, the Commander must send troops to Tong Pass immediately!"
The messenger galloped away.
Gu and A'luotuo took the shortcut across Wuzhang Plateau, aiming to reach Tong Pass before Najiechuai—and intercept the kidnappers. Victory or defeat hung in the balance.
Blizzards lashed them; day and night blurred. Gu marveled at his own endurance—a coddled nobleman enduring hardship for Shanluo. Danger stalked him, yet defiance burned brighter, the same stubbornness that refused defeat on the Go board.
Noon next day: Songguo Mountain, Tong Pass. Also called Buddha's Head Cliff for its shape, its jagged rocks commanded the vital pass—perfect for ambush.
Their shortcut had gained them half a day. The kidnappers, luring Najiechuai, would take a slower, winding route. Gu knew he was ahead. But where would the ambush come? The peaks offered countless deadly spots. Holding Songguo Mountain would thwart any trap targeting Najiechuai.
Sunlight glittered on pristine snow, transforming the mountains into a crystal dreamscape. Gu guided his horse, scouting the terrain. A temple clung to the mountainside, overlooking the abyss.
"Wait here," Gu ordered A'luotuo, dismounting. He found stone steps swept clear of snow. Silence reigned, broken only by mountain t*ts. Gu's mind cleared, Shanluo's ethereal face rising before him. Was she unharmed? Yinyin Chuo needed her intact for Lun Kongre. Tenderness washed over Gu. He vowed to find her.
Buddha's Cliff Temple. Ancient pines guarded the courtyard. Incense smoldered before the Guanyin statue in the empty main hall. Gu knelt, praying for Shanluo's safety.
A woman's laugh—Shanluo's laugh!—echoed from the rear hall.
Heart leaping, Gu rushed back. Only the stern statue of Skanda, demon-subduing staff in hand, met his gaze. Had he imagined it? A side door led to a vast garden—hundreds of plum trees in crimson bloom against the snow.
"Shanluo! Shanluo! Are you here?" Gu's call startled a lark skyward. The laugh came again—unmistakably hers. He plunged into the grove. A flash of white robes vanished behind a large tree.
"Shanluo, I know it's you! Why hide?" Gu approached slowly. Rounding the trunk, he froze.
It wasn't Shanluo. A girl of similar age, slightly more youthful, skin like snow, features exquisitely painted by a divine brush. Large eyes widened in startled timidity.
Gu stumbled back. "Forgive me! Forgive me!"
A voice spoke behind him: "Patron, you tread on this monk's foot."
Gu whirled, finding an aged monk's face inches from his own. The monk, perhaps ninety, stood unaided in the snow.
"Amituofo," the monk smiled serenely. "Do you seek someone?"
"I disturb your peace, Master. I seek a Uighur princess. I mistook this lady, frightening her."
The monk nodded gently. The white-robed girl spoke softly to him. He replied; her luminous eyes flickered toward Gu before she melted into the plum grove.
Before Gu could inquire, a piercing reed pipe (bili) shrieked from below—A'luotuo's alarm. "Master, I must go!"
"Patron, stay a moment," the monk said calmly. "Your bones speak of uncommon spirit. Fate brings us together. Will you not rest in the meditation hall?"
"My friend is in danger!" Gu insisted.
The monk smiled. "Your prayer before the Bodhisattva was sincere. Her great power will aid your wish."
Gu stiffened—he'd been alone in the hall! No time for wonder. "My thanks, Master!" He fled down the mountain.
Below, A'luotuo and the horses were gone. A stone struck near Gu's foot. Looking up, he saw A'luotuo signaling from a tall elm.
Gu climbed. A'luotuo, wordless, gestured: a shaven-headed horseman had ridden toward Chang'an.
Gu questioned the horses' whereabouts when the mournful wail of a nomadic flute (hujia) rose, casting a pall over the valley. Hoofbeats approached from Tong Pass.
Through the branches, Gu saw thirty shaven-headed riders in nomadic garb dismount near their hiding place. At a whistle, the horses wheeled and vanished. The men began burying large jars every few paces along the road.
Gu met A'luotuo's questioning gaze. "Shatter a jar. See what's inside."
As a man lifted a jar nearby, A'luotuo's stone hissed through the air. CRACK! The jar exploded, splattering thick, black oil onto the snow.
Swords hissed from scabbards. The leader barked commands; the men melted into roadside shrubs—too large to hide effectively. Gu watched, baffled, as they lay motionless, ignoring the sabotage.
Sunset bled into twilight. Two merchant trains passed. The ambushers remained frozen. Gu's anxiety mounted—if Najiechuai arrived, warning might be too late. Revealing himself meant suicide.
"Amituofo." The monk stood below, his thin attendant robed in white beside him. They walked deliberately toward the ambush site. Gu bit back a warning—these men hunted Najiechuai, not monks. Yet the monk looked up at Gu's tree and nodded.
He stopped before a shrub. "Kind sir! Cease hiding. This monk has questions."
The bush exploded. A man lunged, scimitar arcing toward the monk's skull.
"NO!" Gu leaped down, A'luotuo following. Too far! The monk's attendant moved—a blur. The attacker flew backward, throat slashed open by his own blade, blood staining the snow.
Ambushers surged, weapons trained on the two figures. The monk chided his attendant, who bowed in contrition. Gu and A'luotuo approached cautiously; crossbows tracked them.
"Who are you?" the leader demanded harshly in Chinese.
The monk studied him. "Patron... are you Zhuxie Changyun?"
The leader's eyes widened. He remained silent. "Seventeen years past, at the Uighur Golden Tent in Baluntai, south of Tianshan, we met."
The leader stiffened. After a stunned pause, his scimitar slid home. He crossed his arms over his chest and bowed deeply. "Master Kibi! Forgive my offense!"
"Go," the monk—Kibi no Makibi—ordered. "This is the Imperial heartland, my temple's doorstep. Tang troops approach. Tell Yinyin Chuo: Lun Kongre is a fickle pillar. Relying on him invites calamity."
Zhuxie Changyun obeyed instantly. "The Eastern Sage Monk is here! Our master will understand! Mount up!" He whistled; the horses thundered back. Bodies were swiftly gathered, including the dead man.
"My thanks, Master!" Gu bowed. "Are you the Japanese monk, Kibi no Makibi?"
"This humble monk is he," Kibi acknowledged.
Gu's excitement flared. His teacher, Lu Zangyong, had revered Kibi—a master of Zen and music, Lu's own teacher in youth. The monk who had split games with Master Xuandong! Kibi should be over a hundred!
Darkness deepened rapidly in the valley. The attendant produced a small lantern, its glow feeble.
The hujia wailed again—a sound of desolate frontiers.
"They're luring Najiechuai here!" Gu said, realizing Kibi likely knew. "The cold bites deep, Master. Please rest."
"Very well," Kibi nodded. "When this ends, seek me at the temple."
"This junior is Gu Shiyan. I shall come."
Kibi smiled warmly. "A name long known. The young surpass us."
Gu watched the lantern's firefly glow ascend the steps. Hoofbeats drummed closer—three riders approaching fast down the moonlit path.
Gu and A'luotuo climbed the elm. The lead rider was slender, face veiled—a woman! "Shanluo!" Gu's heart soared. "Stone the followers!"
The horses flew past. A'luotuo's stones struck true—SNAP! SNAP! Two horses' forelegs broke. Riders somersaulted, landing cat-like on their feet.
A'luotuo dropped like an avenging god, iron staff aimed at the taller rider's skull. The man rolled frantically aside. Mid-air, A'luotuo twisted, sweeping the staff toward the second rider. He fought to pin them both, freeing Gu.
The lead horse stopped. Gu ran forward. "Shanluo! It's me, Gu Shiyan!"
The figure crumpled, sliding from the saddle, trembling on the ground. Gu rushed to help, gathering her close. She turned in his arms—a dagger flashed! Iced steel pierced Gu's left chest. Cold shock spread. He fell.
The woman stood, lifting her veil—a coldly beautiful face, not Shanluo! She sneered.
A'luotuo bellowed in rage, seeing the dagger hilt protruding from Gu's chest. He broke off his attack. The two men on foot saw their chance and fled after the mounted woman.
A'luotuo cradled Gu, crying "Ba-po-luo! Ba-po-luo!"
Gu's eyes fluttered open, face deathly pale. "Shanluo..." he whispered, before darkness claimed him.
The thunder of many hooves shook the ground—Najiechuai was coming.