Shi Jin said, "What are we to do now?" Zhu Wu and the other two chieftains knelt before him and replied, "Brother, you are an innocent man. Do not let us drag you down with us. Take rope and bind us three, hand us over for the reward—it would be better than staining your good name."

"How can I do that?" said Shi Jin. "If I did such a thing, I would have tricked you here only to seize you for the bounty, and all the world would laugh at me. If I am to die, I die with you; if I live, we live together. Get up, don't worry—we'll find another way. But first let me learn what this is all about."

He climbed a ladder and called down to the officers: "You two constables, why have you come in the dead of night to raid my farmstead?"

"Big fellow," one answered, "you can't deny it! Here stands your accuser, Li Ji." Shi Jin shouted at Li Ji, "How dare you slander an innocent man?" Li Ji replied, "I knew nothing about it. I found Wang Si's reply letter in the woods and happened to show it before the county office—that's how this came out."

Shi Jin turned on Wang Si. "You said there was no reply letter. How is it one exists?"

"It was my fault," Wang Si stammered. "I was drunk and forgot the letter."

"Beast!" Shi Jin roared. "Now what do we do?"

Outside, the constables were afraid of Shi Jin's prowess and dared not rush the farmstead to take them. Zhu Wu and the other chieftains gestured to Shi Jin, signaling him to play along. Catching their meaning, Shi Jin called down from the ladder: "You two constables, no need for commotion! Pull back a step or two, and I'll bind my men myself and bring them out for the reward."

The constables, wary of Shi Jin, could only answer, "Very well—we'll wait. Bring them out and we'll go collect the bounty together."

Shi Jin came down, went to the main hall, and summoned Wang Si first. He led him into the rear garden and cut him down with a single stroke. Then he ordered the farmhands to gather up all the valuables, whatever there was of worth, and pack it quickly. They lit thirty or forty torches. Shi Jin and the three chieftains armed themselves fully: swords at their waists, long halberds in hand, gear strapped tight. They set fire to the thatched huts behind the farmstead. Outside, seeing flames rise from within, the soldiers all ran around back to look.

Shi Jin then lit a blaze in the central hall, threw open the main gate, and with a great shout charged out, his men streaming behind him.

Shi Jin led the way; Zhu Wu and Yang Chun followed in the middle, Chen Da brought up the rear. With the bandit soldiers and farmhands together they smashed left and right, striking east while seeming to go west. Shi Jin fought like a tiger—who could stand before him? With fire raging behind them, they cut a path through. They came face to face with the two constables and Li Ji.

Shi Jin's fury boiled over. When enemies meet, their eyes see all too clearly. The two constables saw the situation was hopeless and turned to flee. Li Ji tried to spin around as well, but Shi Jin was on him in an instant. One sweep of his halberd split Li Ji in two. As for the constables, Chen Da and Yang Chun caught up with them—one stroke each, and both men were dead.

The county marshal, terrified, spurred his horse and galloped off. The soldiers dared not press forward; they scattered and fled, vanishing without a trace. Shi Jin led his company onward, fighting as they went, but the government troops had no stomach for pursuit and dispersed. At last Shi Jin, Zhu Wu, Chen Da, Yang Chun, and the farmhands reached the stronghold on Mount Shaohua and sat down to catch their breath.

When they were settled, Zhu Wu hurriedly ordered his men to slaughter an ox and a horse and prepare a feast of celebration. The wine flowed freely that night.

Several days passed. Shi Jin brooded: "To save those three I burned down my own farmstead. Some valuables we saved, but all the heavy goods are gone." He felt uneasy staying on. At last he spoke to Zhu Wu and the others: "My teacher, Instructor Wang, serves in the military headquarters at the western frontier. I meant to go seek him out before, but my father died and I could not leave. Now that my property is ruined, I will go find him."

"Brother," said Zhu Wu, "don't leave. Stay with us a while longer, and we'll discuss it. If you don't want to be an outlaw, wait until things settle down, and we'll help you rebuild your farmstead and return to honest life."

"You mean well," Shi Jin replied, "but when my heart is set on going, nothing can hold me back. If I find my teacher, perhaps I can make something of myself there and enjoy some happiness for half a lifetime."

"Brother, why not be chief of this stronghold?" said Zhu Wu. "Wouldn't that be pleasure enough? Though I fear our mountain is too small to stable your horse."

"I am an honest man," Shi Jin said firmly. "How could I stain the body my parents gave me? Say no more about becoming an outlaw." He stayed a few more days, but his mind was made up, and Zhu Wu could not keep him against his will.

Shi Jin left his farmhands at the stronghold. He packed only a little silver into a bundle; the rest of his goods he entrusted to the bandits' keeping.

He put on a white felt hat with a tuft of red tassel, a soft dark headcloth beneath it, and a bright yellow sash about his neck. He wore a white silk battle robe with a double collar, a crimson waistband knotted with five fingers' width of braid, leggings striped in black and white, and sturdy hemp sandals meant for mountain roads. At his hip hung a goose-feather saber with a copper guard. He shouldered his bundle, took up his halberd, and bade farewell to Zhu Wu and the others.

All the bandits came down the mountain to see him off. Zhu Wu and his men wept as they parted, then turned back to their stronghold.

Shi Jin traveled alone for more than half a month, through rugged mountains and lonely villages, sleeping in desolate woods under cloud and dew, rising before dawn to climb perilous roads. He pressed on at sunset to the sound of barking dogs and started early in the frost at crowing roosters—hungry he ate, thirsty he drank; by night he rested, by day he walked.

At last he came to Weizhou. "There's a military headquarters here too," he thought. "Could my teacher Wang Jin be stationed in this place?" He entered the city and found it bustling with streets and markets. At a crossroads stood a small teahouse, and Shi Jin went in, chose a seat, and sat down.

The tea server came over. "What will you have, sir?"

"A bowl of steeped tea," said Shi Jin. The man brought it and set it before him.

"Where is the military headquarters?" Shi Jin asked.

"Just ahead," the server said.

"One more thing—is there an instructor from the Eastern Capital named Wang Jin serving there?"

"There are many instructors in that office," the man replied. "Three or four of them are surnamed Wang. I couldn't say which one is Wang Jin."

Before he could finish, a huge man strode into the teahouse. Shi Jin looked him over: an officer by his dress—a silk headwrap patterned with sesame flowers, gold rings at the back of his neck in the Taiyuan style, a parrot-green battle robe of fine silk, a black sash twisted double, and dry yellow boots stitched in four seams like eagle's claws. His face was round, his ears large; his nose straight, his mouth square. A thick badger-like beard covered his cheeks. He stood eight feet tall with a girth to match.

The man sat down, and the tea server said to Shi Jin: "Sir, if you're looking for an instructor, ask this Commander—he knows everyone."

Shi Jin rose quickly and bowed. "Officer, please sit and share some tea." The man saw that Shi Jin was tall and powerful, clearly a fine fellow, and returned the courtesy. They sat down together.

"May I presume to ask your name?" said Shi Jin.

"I am Lu Da, commander in the headquarters here," the man said. "And you, brother—what's your name?"

"I am Shi Jin of Huayin County, Huazhou. I'm looking for my teacher, Instructor Wang Jin of the Imperial Guard in the Eastern Capital. Is he serving at this headquarters by any chance?"

Commander Lu's eyes lit up. "Brother—are you that 'Nine-Dragoned' Shi Jin from Shi Family Village?"

Shi Jin bowed again. "That's me."

Lu Da returned the bow hastily. "Hearing of a man is nothing like seeing him face to face! So you're looking for Instructor Wang—would that be the one who offended Marshal Gao in the Eastern Capital?"

"The very same."

"I've heard his name," said Lu Da. "He's not here, brother. I'm told he serves under Old General Zhong at the Yan'an headquarters on the frontier. This Weizhou is held by Young General Zhong—your teacher isn't stationed here. But since you're Shi Jin himself, and I've heard fine things about you, come along with me and we'll have a drink."

Lu Da took Shi Jin by the arm and led him out of the teahouse. "I'll settle the tea bill," he called back over his shoulder.

"Go on, Commander," the server said. "It's nothing."

The two walked down the street together, arms linked. After fifty paces they came upon a crowd gathered around an open space. "Let's have a look, brother," Shi Jin said. They pushed through the crowd and saw a man in the middle leaning on a bundle of staves and clubs, with dozens of plasters spread out on the ground before him, a tray holding them topped by a paper sign—a wandering medicine seller who made his living demonstrating staff techniques.

Shi Jin recognized him at once. It was Li Zhong, nicknamed "the Tiger-Killer," the very man who had first taught Shi Jin his martial arts.

"Teacher!" Shi Jin called out from the crowd. "It's been a long time!"

"Good disciple, what brings you here?" said Li Zhong.

Lu Da spoke up: "Since he's your teacher, come along and drink three cups with us."

"Let me sell my plasters first and collect the money," Li Zhong said. "Then I'll join you, Commander."

"Who has patience for that?" Lu Da snapped. "If we go, you go with us."

"This is how I make my living—what can I do? Commander, go ahead. I'll catch up soon enough. Disciple, walk on with the Commander." But Lu Da was already boiling over. He shoved the onlookers aside, knocking several to the ground, and cursed: "You bastards scatter right now, or I'll start swinging!" The crowd, knowing full well who he was, scattered in a panic.

Li Zhong saw how fierce Lu Da was and dared not argue. Forcing a smile, he said, "What an impatient man." He packed up his gear and medicines, stored his staves, and the three went off together, turning this way and that until they came to a famous wineshop under the city bridge called Pan's.

The shop flew its banner from a tall pole, the flag rippling in the breeze. They climbed to the upper floor and took a clean private room. Lu Da sat in the host's seat, Li Zhong across from him, and Shi Jin below. The waiter recognized Lu Da and bowed. "Commander, how much wine shall I bring?"

"Four measures first," said Lu Da. "And set out whatever dishes and fruits you have to go with it."

"What would you like for the main course?" the waiter asked.

"Stop asking! Bring whatever there is—I'll settle the whole bill at once. Stop chattering." The waiter went off, heated the wine, and brought up an entire table of meat and delicacies without further question.

They drank several cups and talked idly, comparing notes on staff techniques, when from the next room came the sound of someone sobbing—a woman weeping, broken by hiccups of grief. Lu Da's temper flared. He hurled his cup and saucer to the floor. The waiter hurried upstairs at the crash and found Lu Da fuming.

"Commander," he said, hands folded respectfully, "what do you need? Tell me and I'll fetch it."

"What do I need?" Lu Da growled. "You know who I am—how dare you let someone wail next door and spoil our drinking! I haven't shorted you a single coin!"

"Calm yourself, Commander," the waiter pleaded. "I'd never allow anyone to disturb your drinking. The ones crying are a father and daughter who sing for their supper in these rooms. They didn't know you were here—they were just weeping over their own troubles."

"What nonsense is this? Go fetch them," Lu Da ordered.

The waiter went, and soon returned with the pair: a woman of eighteen or nineteen in front, and behind her an old man of fifty or sixty carrying a set of clappers. The woman had no great beauty, but she was not without charm—loose dark hair pinned with a jade hairpin, a slender waist bound in a red silk skirt, a plain white gown over her fair skin, pale yellow stockings beneath embroidered slippers. Her brows were knit tight, her eyes brimming with pearl-like tears; her powdered face hung low, and her delicate flesh seemed wasted away. If she was not sick with sorrow, she must have been heavy with grief.

She wiped her eyes, stepped forward, and made three deep bows. The old man greeted them as well.

Lu Da asked: "Where are you from? Why are you crying?"

"Sir," the woman said, "if you'll hear me out—we are from the Eastern Capital. My father brought us here to Weizhou to seek out relatives, but they had moved away to Nanjing. My mother fell ill at the inn and died there. Since then my father and I have been stranded in this place, living as best we can.

"There's a rich man here called Squire Zheng of West Market—they call him 'the Butcher of the West.' When he saw me, he forced a matchmaker on us and insisted I become his concubine. He drew up a contract for three thousand strings of cash—all false credit, no real money—and took my body as collateral. Before three months had passed, his wife grew jealous and drove me out with blows, refusing to let him keep me. Now he demands the innkeeper collect the original three-thousand-string debt from us. My father is weak and cannot fight him; Zheng has money and power. We never received a single coin from him in the first place—where are we to find such a sum now?

"We had no choice. My father taught me some songs when I was young, so I come to this wineshop to sing for coins. Each day whatever I earn, most of it goes to Zheng; we keep only a little for food and lodging. But these last two days few customers have come, and we've fallen behind in his payments. I'm afraid that when he comes to collect, he'll humiliate us. We thought of our misery with no one to turn to—that's why we were crying. We didn't mean to offend you, sir. Please forgive us."

Lu Da asked further: "What are your names? Which inn are you staying at? And where does this 'Squire Zheng' live?"

The old man answered: "My name is Jin, and I'm second in my family. My daughter's childhood name is Cuilian. As for Squire Zheng—he's the butcher under Scholar's Bridge, Zheng Tu by name, nicknamed 'Butcher of the West.' We're staying at the Lu Family Inn inside the east gate."

Lu Da spat. "Bah! I thought this 'Squire Zheng' was somebody important—it turns out he's just a pig-killer named Zheng Tu! That filthy scoundrel—he got his butcher shop through Young General Zhong's patronage, and this is how he bullies people!" He turned to Li Zhong and Shi Jin. "You two wait here. I'm going to beat that bastard to death, then I'll come back."

Shi Jin and Li Zhong grabbed hold of him. "Calm down, brother! Take care of it tomorrow." They reasoned with him again and again until his anger cooled.

Lu Da turned back to the old man. "Come here," he said. "I'll give you traveling money. Tomorrow you go home to the Eastern Capital—how about that?"

"If we could return home," the father said, "you would be our reborn parents. But how will the innkeeper let us leave? Squire Zheng holds him responsible for our debt."

"Don't worry about that," Lu Da said. "I'll handle it." He pulled five ounces of silver from his pocket and set them on the table. Turning to Shi Jin, he said: "I didn't bring much today. Lend me some silver, brother—I'll pay you back tomorrow."

"What's a loan between brothers?" Shi Jin took a ten-ounce ingot from his bundle and placed it on the table.

Lu Da looked at Li Zhong. "You lend me something too." Li Zhong fumbled in his clothes and produced two ounces. Lu Da saw how little it was and muttered, "A stingy fellow, this one."

He gave fifteen ounces to old Jin and told him: "Take this for your traveling expenses and pack your things. I'll come early tomorrow morning and see you both off. Let that innkeeper dare keep you!"

The old man and his daughter thanked him profusely and left.

Lu Da tossed the two ounces back to Li Zhong. The three drank two more measures of wine, then went downstairs. "Innkeeper," Lu Da called out, "I'll pay the bill tomorrow."

"Go on, Commander, go on," the innkeeper answered hurriedly. "Don't worry about it—just don't forget us!"

The three parted ways in the street; Shi Jin and Li Zhong each found their own lodgings.

Lu Da returned to his quarters before the headquarters. He skipped supper entirely and went to bed in a fury. His landlord dared not ask what was wrong.

Old Jin, for his part, took the fifteen ounces of silver back to the inn and settled his daughter in. He went outside the city walls to a distant spot and hired a cart, then came back, packed their belongings, paid the room rent, and settled all accounts for firewood and rice. He had only to wait for dawn.

That night passed without incident. At the fifth watch they rose, cooked breakfast, ate, and gathered up everything. Just as the sky began to lighten, Lu Da strode into the inn, shouting: "Waiter! Where's old Jin staying?"

"Uncle Jin," the waiter called out, "the Commander is looking for you."

Old Jin opened his door. "Commander, please come in and sit."

"Sit? What for?" said Lu Da. "If you're going, then go—what are you waiting for?"

Old Jin led his daughter out, carrying their luggage on a pole, thanked the commander, and made for the door. But the waiter blocked their way. "Uncle Jin, where do you think you're going?"

Lu Da demanded: "Does he owe you rent?"

"The room is paid up as of last night," the waiter said. "But he still owes Squire Zheng the contract money—the squire holds me responsible for watching him!"

"Zheng Tu's money—I'll pay it myself," Lu Da said. "Let the old man go home."

The waiter refused to step aside. Lu Da flew into a rage. He spread his five fingers and slapped the waiter across the face so hard that blood gushed from the man's mouth. A second blow knocked out two front teeth. The waiter scrambled up and fled inside the inn like smoke. The owner dared not come out to interfere.

Old Jin and his daughter hurried away from the inn, went out of the city, and found the cart they had hired the day before.

Lu Da, however, thought: "That waiter might chase after them and stop them." So he pulled a bench into the doorway of the inn and sat there for two full hours. Only when he judged that old Jin was far away did he rise and head to Scholar's Bridge.

Zheng Tu ran a butcher shop with two storefronts, two meat blocks, and several slabs of pork hanging from hooks. He was sitting at the counter by the door, watching his ten or so assistants at work. Lu Da walked up and called: "Zheng Tu!"

Zheng Tu looked up, saw who it was, and hurried out from behind the counter with a bow. "Commander, forgive me!" He ordered an assistant to bring a stool. "Please sit, Commander."

Lu Da sat down. "I've come on orders from General Zhong," he said. "I need ten catties of lean meat, chopped into filling—not a trace of fat in it."

"Certainly," Zheng Tu said. "You men, pick out good meat and chop ten catties." But Lu Da cut him off: "Don't let those filthy hands touch it. You'll do it yourself."

"Very well," Zheng Tu agreed. "I'll cut it myself." He went to the block, picked out ten catties of fine lean meat, and chopped it into mince with great care.

Meanwhile the inn waiter, his head wrapped in a cloth from his beating, had come to Zheng's shop to report old Jin's escape. Seeing Lu Da sitting there by the door, he dared not approach and stood far off under the eaves, watching.

Zheng Tu spent a full half hour chopping. At last he wrapped the mince in lotus leaves and said: "Commander—shall I have someone deliver it?"

"Deliver what?" said Lu Da. "Hold on! Now I want ten more catties—all fat this time, not a trace of lean, also chopped into filling."

"Just now you wanted lean," Zheng Tu said. "I thought the headquarters wanted it for dumplings. What would they do with fat mince?"

Lu Da glared at him. "Those are the General's orders to me. Who are you to question them?"

"If that's what they need, I'll chop it." Zheng Tu selected ten catties of solid fat and chopped it just as fine, wrapping it in lotus leaves as before. The morning wore on until nearly noon. The waiter still dared not approach, and even customers who wanted meat kept their distance.

Zheng Tu said: "I'll have someone carry these to the headquarters for you."

"Not yet," Lu Da said. "Now I want ten catties of tender cartilage, chopped fine as mince too—not a scrap of flesh on it."

Zheng Tu laughed uneasily. "You're not here to mock me, are you?"

Lu Da jumped up, snatched the two bundles of mince from the counter, and stared Zheng Tu in the eye. "I am precisely here to mock you." He hurled both bundles straight into Zheng Tu's face—a rain of raw meat.

Zheng Tu exploded with rage. Fury rose from his feet to the crown of his head; a blaze of unquenchable wrath burned through him and would not be contained. He snatched a boning knife from the meat block and leaped out over the counter. Lu Da had already stepped back into the middle of the street.

The neighbors and the ten or so shop assistants—none dared step in to mediate. Passersby froze in their tracks; even the inn waiter stood dumbstruck.

Zheng Tu came at Lu Da, knife in his right hand, left hand reaching out to grab him. Lu Da seized that left wrist, stepped inside his guard, and drove a kick into Zheng Tu's belly that sent him sprawling in the street. In another stride Lu Da planted his foot on the butcher's chest, raised a fist the size of a vinegar jar, and glared down at him.

"I served under Old General Zhong," he said, "and rose to be inspector of the five western circuits—I've earned the right to be called 'Butcher of the West.' But you? You're nothing but a meat-selling hack with a cleaver. A dog like you dares to call himself 'Butcher of the West'? And how dare you swindle Jin Cuilian?"

The first punch landed square on Zheng Tu's nose. Blood burst forth; the nose twisted sideways. It was as if an oil and sauce shop had opened—salty, sour, spicy, all bursting out at once.

Zheng Tu could not get up. His knife fell aside, and he could only cry: "Good hit! Good hit!"

"Filthy bastard," Lu Da cursed, "you still talk back?" He raised his fist again and struck Zheng Tu over the eye and brow. The skin split, the eyeball bulged—like a silk shop thrown open, reds and blacks and purples all spilling out.

The onlookers were terrified of Lu Da; none dared come near to intervene. Zheng Tu could take no more and begged for mercy.

"Ha!" Lu Da barked. "You gutter trash! If you'd held your ground against me, I might have let you off. But begging for mercy? That I won't forgive." A third punch landed on the temple—and it was like a full Buddhist service, with bells and cymbals and gongs all crashing together.

Lu Da looked down. Zheng Tu lay stretched out in the street, only breathing out and no longer breathing in, unable to move. Lu Da pretended to be unconvinced: "You're faking dead! I'll hit you again!" But he saw the man's face slowly change color.

Lu Da thought quickly: "I meant only to give him a good beating—I never expected three punches would kill him. Now I'll have to answer for it in court, and there's no one to bring me meals in prison. Better get out while I can." He strode away, then turned back and pointed at Zheng Tu's corpse: "You're faking death! We'll settle this later!" Cursing as he went, he marched off down the street.

The neighbors and Zheng Tu's assistants—none dared stop him.

Lu Da returned to his lodgings, hastily bundled up some clothes, traveling money, valuables, and silver. Everything old and heavy he left behind. He grabbed a staff as tall as his eyebrows and ran out through the south gate like smoke on the wind.

Back at Zheng Tu's shop, his people tried for half a day to revive him—but he was dead beyond help. His family and neighbors went straight to the prefectural court to file charges.

The prefect was just holding court. He received the complaint and read it over. "Lu Da is a commander in the general's headquarters," he said. "I cannot simply send men to seize him on my own authority."

He got into his sedan chair, went to the headquarters, and dismounted at the gate. The guards announced him, and the general received him in the main hall.

"What brings you here?" the general asked after they had exchanged courtesies.

"Your Excellency should know," said the prefect, "that your commander Lu Da has beaten to death a butcher named Zheng Tu in the market for no good reason. Since he is under your command, I did not presume to arrest him without informing you first."

The general was startled and thought: "Lu Da has fine martial skills, but his temper is reckless. Now that he's killed a man, how can I protect him? He must face questioning." To the prefect he said: "This Lu Da originally served under my father at the frontier. Because I had no one to assist me here, he was assigned to me as commander. Since he has committed murder, you may arrest and interrogate him according to law. But if his confession is clear and sentence is fixed, you must inform my father before carrying it out. If he should need this man at the frontier later, it would not look good."

The prefect replied: "I will examine the facts of the case and report them fully to Old General Zhong before passing judgment."

He took leave of the general, returned to his court, and sat in session. He summoned the chief investigator, issued the warrant, and ordered the arrest of Lu Da.

Inspector Wang received the papers, gathered some twenty officers, and went straight to Lu Da's lodgings. The landlord said: "He grabbed a bundle and a staff and left just now. I assumed he was on official business—I didn't dare ask."

Wang had the room opened. Inside were only old clothes and bedding. He took the landlord into custody and searched high and low through the city, from south to north, but found no trace of Lu Da. At last he brought the landlord and two neighbors before the prefect.

"Lu Da has fled in fear of punishment," Wang reported. "We could not find him. We have only his landlord and neighbors here."

The prefect ordered them held in custody. Meanwhile he summoned Zheng Tu's neighbors, appointed coroners, and had the local officials conduct a thorough examination of the corpse. Zheng Tu's family provided a coffin and had him enshrined at a temple.

A formal case file was drawn up. A warrant with time limits was issued for Lu Da's capture. The accusers were released on bail; the neighbors who had failed to stop the killing received beatings; the landlord and nearby residents were let off with reprimands. Since Lu Da had fled, a general warrant of pursuit was sent through every circuit, offering one thousand strings of cash for his capture, with his age, origin, and appearance described in detail and posted everywhere.

Zheng Tu's family went into mourning, and the matter rested there.

Lu Da himself, having left Weizhou, fled east and west in desperate haste—like a lone goose separated from its flock, flying against the bright moon; like a fish that slipped the net, surging through the waves. He cared not how far he went or where the road led. In his panic he knocked over passersby; his feet moved as fast as a war-horse charging into battle.

He hurried through several prefectures and counties. As the old saying goes: "A man in flight does not choose his road; wherever he lands, that is home." The ancients also said: "The hungry do not choose their food, the cold do not choose their clothes, the desperate do not choose their path, and the poor do not choose their wives."

Half a month or more he wandered aimlessly, until at last he came to Yanmen County in Daizhou. He entered the city and found it bustling—crowds thick as clouds, carts and horses streaming by, every trade under heaven plying its wares. Though only a county seat, it was finer than many a prefectural capital.

As Lu Da walked along, he saw a crowd gathered around a notice board at the crossroads. People jostled shoulder to shoulder, craning their necks; old men leaned on canes and stroked their beards; young scholars copied down the text with writing brushes. It was all legal jargon—law and punishment written out in black and white.

Lu Da pushed into the crowd and listened. He could not read, but he heard one of the men reciting aloud:

"By order of the Taiyuan Prefectural Military Commission: In accordance with a communication from Weizhou concerning the capture of Lu Da, formerly commander at the headquarters, wanted for beating to death Zheng Tu... anyone who harbors him or gives him lodging shall be punished as an accomplice; anyone who captures him or informs upon him shall receive a reward of one thousand strings..."

Lu Da was still listening when someone behind him shouted: "Brother Zhang! What are you doing here?" A pair of arms wrapped around his waist and dragged him away from the crossroads.

Had that man not seen him, Lu Da might have been caught on the spot. But as it was, he was hauled off—and this would lead to his head being shaved and his beard cut away, his name changed from a killer's to a monk's, provoking all the Buddhas and arhats to wrath. It would lead him to clear the dangerous roads with his staff and cut down the unjust with his blade.

Who was it that seized Lu Da? Hear the next chapter.