Chapter 12: The Corpse

Lü Wenda paused briefly after hearing this, then thought for a moment before saying, "Sir, you mean those two pieces of chicken-blood stone?"

Seeing Cao Chuan nod, Lü Accountant smiled. "Sir, there is something you don't know. Sixty or seventy li west of here there are stone hills — they yield colored stone. Mm, green, ink-black, yellow, red, all of them. They're just local products, nothing particularly precious. Last time someone brought two rough blanks along the way, and I polished them up in my spare time. A bit of fun."

Zhou Tong, hearing this, asked tentatively, "Could it be, sir, that you have a use for that stone?"

Cao Chuan nodded. "Disciples of my sect, when traveling abroad, always collect various odd jades and rare stones whenever they come across them. As for the use…" At this point, Cao Chuan's eyes gazed into the distance and he fell silent.

Zhou Tong and Lü Accountant exchanged a glance, chuckled, and patted the table. "Understood, understood. Sir, no need to elaborate. This is no difficult matter. Sir, do you want stone of every color?"

"Chicken-blood stone will do — the purer-colored kind. The other mixed colors can be left aside."

Zhou Tong nodded, turned his head, and whispered a few words into Chen Huoding's ear. Chen Huoding acknowledged and went down the mountain.

"Sir, please wait a moment while I give the orders. Just a few pieces of ornamental stone — within a few days they will certainly be delivered before you."

Not long after, Chen Huoding brought over a dark, lean fellow with a very honest-looking face. The man came up and clasped his hands in salute. Zhou Tong got straight to the point: "Wutian, I recall you hail from Linjiawa?"

The man answered properly, "Yes."

"You know all about that stone quarry at Linjiawa? Tell us."

The dark fellow paused, then said, "Reporting to the Great Lord, that stone mountain has seven or eight pit openings, all opened by the old wealths nearby. In the slack season they hire some villagers with rice and salt to quarry stone. During the busy farming season, no one goes."

Zhou Tong nodded. "Who holds all the quarried stone?"

"It's all in the hands of the old wealths. When traveling merchants stop for lodging, the old wealths peddle some to them."

"Is that Old Wealthy Lin?"

"Old Wealthy Lin has some. Old Wealthy Xia of Fang Village has some too."

At this, Zhou Tong cleared his throat and spoke with a serious face. "Wutian, the gentleman here needs some chicken-blood stone. Go with the Accountant right now to collect silver — mm, collect thirty taels — then take some men down the mountain. On this trip, do not throw your weight around or intimidate anyone. Just use the silver to trade with the old wealths. Remember, the purer the stone color the better; mixed colors are no good. Once you've bought it, send it straight back."

The man, after hearing this, clasped his hands and replied, "Aye. Wutian will go down the mountain at once. Does the Great Lord have any further instructions?"

Zhou Tong added, "Third Brother was supposed to be back at the stronghold last night and still hasn't arrived. Ask after him along the way. If there's any trouble, send a man back to report."

The man acknowledged and went with Lü Accountant to collect the silver.

Zhou Tong turned to Cao Chuan. "This Zhao Wutian has always been steady in handling affairs. Sir, rest assured — there will be results within a few days."

Cao Chuan cupped his hands. "I've put you all to trouble."

A while later, Lü Accountant returned and said that Zhao Wutian had already taken men down the mountain. Cao Chuan thought for a moment. His impression was that silver wasn't expensive — a gram was only a few yuan. He figured he should ask Li Douzhan later; if it was cheap, he could bring over a batch. Compared to chicken-blood stone, this silver really seemed worthless.

As they talked, noon arrived. Zhao Si came running over carrying a large basket and briskly set out wine and dishes for everyone. Cao Chuan was a bit puzzled. He vaguely remembered that ancient people ate only two meals a day, yet here at Pingfeng Stronghold there seemed to be no such rule — and the standard was quite high. Baffled, he asked about it.

Zhou Tong explained as he ate: every able-bodied man in this stronghold was a fighter handpicked from the mountain households, kept in the stronghold ready at any moment to clash with others. Three meals a day were indispensable.

After hearing this, Cao Chuan felt he had been too doctrinaire. Thinking it over, it made sense — these men were essentially supported collectively by the mountain folk, and they also collected tolls everywhere themselves. Getting their fill shouldn't be hard.

After lunch, they had barely exchanged a few words when they heard someone shouting below. Looking down the mountain — Cao Chuan's eyesight was decent — he could vaguely make out many people gathered in the square. Everyone hurried down the mountain. As he walked, Zhou Tong told Cao Chuan it was probably the Third Master returning.

Before they even reached the square, Zhao Si came running up and called out to them, "Third Lord just returned to the stronghold. He lost brothers."

Zhou Tong's face darkened. He quickened his pace down the mountain. Cao Chuan could only follow at a quick step as well. The group descended to the square on the mountainside and saw some forty or fifty men squatting or standing on the ground, every one of them silent, faces grim. Each man held an iron blade — oh, some had axes too.

"Looks like they're about to throw down with someone," a certain someone couldn't help feeling a little excited. This was the real thing — real blades, real blood — nothing like him striking poses with a plastic knife on a film set.

His excitement didn't last long. The moment he reached the entrance of the unmarked Assembly Hall, Cao Chuan's whole being went wrong: two corpses lay on the ground, a mess of blood and flesh, faces contorted hideously. The reek of blood hit him so hard he wanted to vomit.

Forcibly suppressing the churning in his stomach, he turned his head and followed the crowd into the main hall. His vision plunged into darkness. Once his eyes adjusted, he saw a short, plump middle-aged man coming over to greet them.

Zhou Tong gave Cao Chuan a brief introduction. As expected, this middle-aged man was Pingfeng Stronghold's Third Lord, Chu Jianli.

To Cao Chuan's eyes, this Chu Jianli truly did not look like a headman: not tall, wearing a brown short jacket of coarse kudzu cloth, round face, narrowed eyes. When he spoke, every sentence seemed to carry a smile — he looked more like a shopkeeper.

His age was impossible to tell either. Truth be told, ever since Cao Chuan had met these ancient people, he had never once guessed an age correctly. Their faces universally looked old.

Cao Chuan's stomach was still unsettled. Seeing that they were about to hold a meeting, he said nothing, simply cupped his hands, found a chair, and sat down wherever.

Once seated, he looked around and finally understood why Zhou Tong and the others always went off to Green Stone Terrace. Who knew what dynasty or era this Assembly Hall had been built in — long neglected and in disrepair, the ceiling beams covered in cobwebs, the lacquer on the pillars completely peeled away. The light was poor too; anyone even slightly far away was hard to make out.

Still, the darkness had its advantages — at least it concealed his current complexion. Though he hadn't looked in a mirror, he knew his face right now must be ghastly.

Zhou Tong turned and sat down in the central armchair. He looked at the seven or eight senior headmen now sitting or standing in the hall, then said slowly, "Everyone is here. Third Brother, speak."

Chu Jianli slowly began his account. "Yesterday afternoon the Liu Family mule team arrived. The brothers busied themselves loading the goods and didn't finish until late. We were about to head back to the stronghold when, before we could even set out, over twenty men from White Village crossed the border. Before we had time to challenge them, they drew blades and charged. The two sides fought a chaotic melee. We lost two brothers and several were wounded."

After hearing this, Zhou Tong asked, "You spent the night at Hengtang?"

"Yes. By then it was already dark. The wounded, both serious and light, all needed treatment. Heading up the mountain at night, we feared an ambush, so the whole group withdrew to Hengtang. We only returned to the stronghold this morning."

"No one was sent to report last night?"

"Originally I dispatched Ding Wu to bring word." Chu Jianli smiled bitterly and shook his head. "Didn't expect that this morning we'd find that wretch halfway along the road — he'd taken a fall. We carried him back along with the rest."