The moment Xue Ba raised his staff to bring it down on Lin Chong's skull, a thunderclap split the pine grove behind them. A great iron monk's staff came flying through the air, caught the prison rod mid-swing, and sent it spinning into the clouds. Out leaped a huge bald monk who bellowed: "I've been listening to you two in these woods for some time!"

The two escorts stared at the monk—black robe, shaved head, a ringed blade at his hip, and that iron staff now gripped in both hands as he swung it at them. Lin Chong blinked, recognized him, and shouted: "Brother, don't strike! I have something to say."

Lu Zhishen checked his swing. The two escorts stood frozen, unable to move.

"It's not their fault," Lin Chong said quickly. "It was Marshal Gao who ordered Lu Qian to instruct them to kill me. How could they refuse? If you kill them, you'd be killing innocent men."

Lu Zhishen drew his blade and cut through the ropes binding Lin Chong's arms, then helped him up. "Brother," he said, "since that day we parted after buying your sword, I've been worried sick about you. When you were arrested, there was no way for me to rescue you. I heard you'd been sentenced to exile in Cangzhou, but I couldn't find you outside the Kaifeng prefectural office. Then someone said you were being held at the guard post—and then I saw a tavern keeper come and invite these two men, saying a gentleman wanted to speak with them. That made me suspicious. I was afraid these bastards would harm you on the road, so I followed them. When they took you into that inn, I stayed there too. At night I heard those two scheming, scalding your feet with boiling water. I meant to kill them then, but the place was full of people and someone might have interfered. The more I saw their evil intentions, the more worried I got. When you left before dawn, I came straight to these woods to wait for them. And here they are, trying to finish you off—perfect timing for me to kill them both."

"Brother," Lin Chong pleaded, "since you've saved me, don't take their lives."

Lu Zhishen glared at the escorts. "You two bastards! If not for my brother's sake, I'd chop you into mincemeat! But for his sake, I'll spare your miserable lives." He sheathed his blade and shouted: "Now help my brother up and follow me!"

He grabbed his staff and strode off ahead. The two escorts didn't dare answer back—they only whimpered: "Instructor Lin, save us!" They picked up their packs and rods, supported Lin Chong between them, dragged his bundle along, and followed the monk out of the grove.

After three or four li they came to a small tavern at the edge of a village. The four of them went inside and sat down. It was a pleasant little place: peach and willow trees casting green shade, sunflowers and pomegranates blooming in scattered red clusters, hemp and wheat growing thick outside the door, lotus leaves swaying by the window. A wine banner fluttered in the warm breeze; a short reed curtain kept out the blazing sun. Earthen jars by the wall held cool village brew; porcelain bottles on the shelf were newly opened for the season. A white-haired old farmer washed the cups while a rosy-cheeked country girl smiled behind the counter.

Lu Zhishen called for five or seven jin of meat and two measures of wine, plus flour to make flatcakes. The tavern keeper bustled about, pouring drinks. Finally one of the escorts worked up the courage to ask: "May we ask, Master, which temple you preside over?"

Lu Zhishen laughed. "Why do you two bastards want to know where I live? Planning to tell Gao Qiu so he can make trouble for me? Others may fear him—I don't! If I ever run into that scum, I'll give him three hundred strokes of my staff."

The escorts fell silent and didn't dare speak again. They ate and drank, gathered their belongings, paid the bill, and left the village tavern.

"Brother," Lin Chong asked, "where are you headed now?"

"'To kill a man you must see blood; to save a man you must save him completely,'" Lu Zhishen quoted. "I won't rest easy until I've seen you safely to Cangzhou."

The two escorts exchanged dark looks. Damn it all! This ruins everything. How will we explain ourselves when we get back? Well, we'll just have to go along with him.

From then on, the monk decided when they walked and when they rested. The escorts didn't dare object—a harsh word got them cursed, worse behavior got them beaten. They kept their mouths shut, terrified of provoking the big monk.

After two days' travel, they hired a cart. Lin Chong rode while the other three walked alongside. The escorts, sick with dread, did everything carefully and obediently, thinking only of saving their own skins. Lu Zhishen bought wine and meat all along the way to build up Lin Chong's strength—the escorts got their share too. At inns they'd stop early and start late, and it was always the two escorts who lit the fires and cooked the meals. Who would dare refuse?

They whispered to each other: "This monk has us under guard. When we get back, Marshal Gao will have our heads."

Xue Ba said: "I've heard a new monk came to the vegetable garden at Daxiangguo Temple, named Lu Zhishen. This must be him. When we return, we'll tell the truth—that we meant to finish Lin Chong in the Wild Boar Forest but this monk saved him and escorted him all the way to Cangzhou, so we couldn't get a chance. We'll give back his ten taels of gold and let Lu Qian deal with the monk himself. The important thing is keeping our own skins whole."

Dong Chao nodded. "That's right."

Under the monk's relentless supervision they traveled for seventeen or eighteen days until Cangzhou lay only seventy li ahead. The road was now lined with houses—no more lonely wilderness where murder could be done unseen. Lu Zhishen, having confirmed this himself, called a halt in a pine grove.

"Brother," he said to Lin Chong, "Cangzhou isn't far now. The road ahead is all populated; no more isolated spots. I've checked it myself. So here we part—we'll meet again someday."

"Go back safely, Brother. Please tell my father-in-law what happened. For your protection on the road, I will repay you even if it costs me my life."

Lu Zhishen took out another twenty or thirty taels of silver and gave them to Lin Chong, then tossed three or four taels at the escorts. "You two bastards—I'd have cut off your heads on the road if not for my brother's sake. There's not much distance left now. Don't get any clever ideas."

"How would we dare?" they said. "We were only following Marshal Gao's orders." They took the silver.

As they were about to part, Lu Zhishen fixed them with a stare. "Are your heads harder than this pine tree?"

The escorts stammered: "Our heads are just flesh and bone wrapped in our parents' skin."

Lu Zhishen swung his staff at the tree. It struck with a crack that left a gash two inches deep—the trunk snapped clean through. "You two bastards," he roared, "if you have any evil intentions, I'll make your heads look just like this tree!"

He waved, dragged his staff over his shoulder, and called: "Take care, Brother!" Then he was gone.

Dong Chao and Xue Ba stuck out their tongues and couldn't pull them back in for a long while.

"Let's be on our way," Lin Chong said mildly.

"What a brute of a monk," they muttered. "One swing and he snapped that tree like a twig."

"That's nothing," Lin Chong said. "At Daxiangguo Temple he pulled up a willow tree by the roots."

The two escorts shook their heads, finally believing the stories were true.

They left the grove and walked until noon, when they spotted a tavern on the main road ahead—a lone establishment at a crossroads, banners fluttering over the willows, lotus flowers swaying in the pond breeze. They went inside. This time Lin Chong insisted the escorts take the upper seats; after all this time, Dong Chao and Xue Ba finally began to relax.

But the tavern was bustling—several tables of customers, three or four waiters running back and forth in a frenzy. Half an hour passed and no one came to serve them.

Lin Chong rapped on the table. "You innkeeper, you're insulting your guests! You see I'm a convict and ignore me. I'm not asking for charity—what's the meaning of this?"

The owner came over. "You don't understand my good intentions."

"What good intentions are there in refusing to sell me food and drink?"

"You don't know about the great landowner in this village," the man said. "His name is Chai Jin, known here as Lord Chai, and in the jianghu they call him the Small Whirlwind. He's a descendant of Emperor Shizong of the Later Zhou. When the throne was ceded at Chen Bridge, the founding emperor gave his family an iron charter of immunity—who would dare bully him? He welcomes heroes from all over the world and keeps thirty or fifty of them fed and housed on his estate. He's told us tavern keepers: 'If any exiled convict comes through, send him to my manor and I'll support him.' If I sell you wine and meat now and your face gets flushed with drink, he'll think you have your own money and won't help you. That's why I held back—it was for your sake."

Lin Chong turned to the escorts. "When I taught at the capital garrison, I often heard soldiers speak of Lord Chai's fame. So this is where he lives! Why don't we go pay our respects?"

Dong Chao and Xue Ba thought it over. Nothing in this for us to lose. They packed up their things. "Innkeeper," they said, "where exactly is Lord Chai's estate? We were just looking for him."

"Only two or three li ahead—turn at the big stone bridge and follow the road around; you'll see a great manor."

They thanked the man and set out. Sure enough, in two or three li they reached the stone bridge. Crossing it, they saw a level road opening into green willow shade that hid a sprawling estate. A stream ringed the property; tall poplars lined both banks, and within their shadow rose a whitewashed wall. They followed the path to the front gate—an impressive compound indeed: gates facing the auspicious road, hills connecting like a green dragon, peach blossoms bursting in profusion as if it were the Peach Blossom Spring itself. The Hall of Gathering Worthies boasted exotic flowers blooming all year round; before the Hundred Flowers Pavilion, spring seemed eternal. A gilt plaque hung over the hall proclaiming imperial favor; within was kept the iron charter. Green tiles and vermilion eaves rose in layered splendor; carved beams and painted rafters made it a residence fit for a prince of the blood.

On the wide plank bridge sat four or five estate workers enjoying the shade. Lin Chong approached, bowed, and said: "Please inform Lord Chai that a convict from the capital named Lin—sent to the prison camps here—requests an audience."

The workers shook their heads. "You've no luck. If the lord were home, he'd give you food, wine, and money. But he went out hunting this morning."

"When will he return?"

"Hard to say. He might stop at the eastern manor for the night. Can't promise anything."

"In that case," Lin Chong said glumly, "I've no fortune today. We'll be going." He took his leave of the workers and turned back down the road with his two escorts, heavy-hearted.

They'd gone barely half a li when they saw a cluster of riders come galloping out of the forest toward the manor. The horses were magnificent, the men handsome and martial; dozens of steeds snorted in the wind, embroidered banners fluttered in the sun. Grey felt caps like upturned lotus leaves, crimson tassels tossing like blooming flowers, carved bows in decorated quivers, arrows fletched with eagle feathers—hunting dogs straining at their leashes, hawks perched on gloved fists. Spears gleamed at saddles; painted drums rumbled. The riders carried the day's kill: wild game slung across horses' backs.

At the center of the group rode a gentleman on a snow-white curly-maned horse. He had dragon eyebrows and phoenix eyes, white teeth and red lips, a neat three-pronged beard framing his mouth—thirty-four or thirty-five years old. He wore a black gauze cap with folded corners and embroidered flowers, a purple robe with a round embroidered chest medallion, a belt of linked jade ornaments, and black boots stitched with gold thread over green. A bow hung at his side, a quiver of arrows at his hip.

Lin Chong watched him approach and thought: Could this be Lord Chai? He didn't dare ask aloud, only hesitated inwardly.

The young lord spurred his horse forward. "Who's that man in the cangue?" he asked.

Lin Chong bowed hastily. "I am Lin Chong, instructor of the capital's imperial guards. I offended Marshal Gao, who found a pretext to have me tried by the Kaifeng court and sentenced to exile here in Cangzhou. I heard at the tavern ahead that there lives a great hero named Chai Jin who welcomes worthy men from everywhere—so I came to present myself. But my fortune is thin; I arrived too late to meet him."

The gentleman swung off his horse and hurried over. "Chai Jin has failed to welcome you properly!" He knelt on the grass then and there.

Lin Chong returned the bow quickly. The man took Lin Chong's hand and led him toward the manor. Seeing their master arrive, the workers flung open the gates, and Chai Jin escorted his guest straight into the main hall.

After they exchanged formal courtesies, Chai Jin said: "I've long heard of your fame, Instructor. I never imagined you'd grace my humble home today—this fulfills my deepest longing."

"Insignificant Lin Chong has heard your noble name spread across the seas," Lin Chong replied. "Who doesn't respect you? That I should meet you in person after being exiled here is a blessing of ten thousand lives."

Chai Jin insisted on giving Lin Chong the seat of honor; Dong Chao and Xue Ba sat off to one side. Chai's attendants led the horses away to rest in the rear courtyard.

Chai Jin ordered wine brought. In no time servants appeared with platters of meat, stacks of flatcakes, a warm pot of wine—and then another tray bearing a peck of white rice with ten strings of cash laid on top.

Chai Jin frowned. "These country fools don't know rank! An instructor like this—how dare they offer such paltry fare? Take it back at once! Bring out the fruit and wine first, then slaughter a sheep for our guest. Hurry!"

Lin Chong rose to protest: "My lord, no need for such generosity—this is already more than enough."

"Say nothing of it," Chai Jin said. "It's rare to have an instructor like you visit. I won't have you slighted."

The servants scrambled to obey, bringing out a tray of preserved fruits and wine. Chai Jin stood and personally poured three cups. Lin Chong thanked him and drank; the escorts drank as well.

"Please come inside," Chai Jin said, unbuckling his bow case and quiver. "Sit with us."

He took the host's seat while Lin Chong sat in the guest's place, with the two escorts below him. They talked of this and that—affairs of the jianghu, news from the road—until the red sun sank low in the west. Then tables were laid with wine, fruit, delicacies, and seafood, each dish set before its guest. Chai Jin raised his cup three times in formal toasts, then called for soup.

They'd just finished a bowl of soup and five or six cups of wine when a servant announced: "The arms instructor is here."

"Invite him to join us," Chai Jin said. "Bring another table."

Lin Chong rose to look as the man entered—a fellow with his headscarf askew, chest thrust out arrogantly as he strode into the hall.

The servants call him 'instructor,' Lin Chong thought. He must be Lord Chai's personal teacher. He bowed deeply. "Lin Chong pays his respects."

The man ignored him completely and returned no bow. Lin Chong didn't dare raise his head.

Chai Jin gestured to Lin Chong and said: "This is Instructor Hong—allow me to present Lin Chong, arms instructor of the capital's eighty thousand imperial guards."

Hearing this, Lin Chong bowed to Instructor Hong. The man said: "No need for that—get up." But he didn't bow back.

Chai Jin's face darkened with displeasure. Lin Chong bowed twice more and rose, offering Instructor Hong the seat of honor. Hong took it without a word of thanks, sitting in the place above everyone else. Chai Jin's expression soured further. Lin Chong sat below him; the escorts sat beside Lin Chong.

Instructor Hong asked: "Why is my lord treating an exiled convict with such ceremony today?"

"This man is no ordinary convict," Chai Jin said. "He's an instructor of the imperial guards. Why do you treat him so rudely?"

"My lord, you're too fond of martial arts," Hong sneered. "Every exiled soldier who comes through here claims to be a weapons master and sponges off your generosity for food and drink. You take them all at face value."

Lin Chong said nothing.

"Appearances can deceive," Chai Jin insisted. "Don't underestimate him."

This enraged Instructor Hong. He jumped to his feet: "I don't believe it! Let him spar with me—if he can hold his own, I'll call him a real instructor!"

Chai Jin laughed heartily. "Fine! Fine! What do you say, Instructor Lin?"

"I wouldn't dare," Lin Chong said.

Hong thought: The man's scared already—he must not know what he's doing. He grew bolder and kept goading Lin Chong to fight.

Chai Jin, for his part, wanted to see Lin Chong's skill with his own eyes—and hoped Lin Chong would win to shut Hong's mouth. "Let's have some wine first," he said. "We'll wait for the moon."

They drank another five or six cups until the moon rose and flooded the hall with light bright as day.

Chai Jin stood. "Both instructors, let's see a round."

Lin Chong thought: This Hong must be Lord Chai's teacher. If I knock him flat, it'll look bad.

Seeing Lin Chong hesitate, Chai Jin said: "Instructor Hong only arrived here recently—he hasn't found a worthy opponent yet. Don't refuse, Instructor Lin; I'd very much like to see you both in action."

He said this precisely to reassure Lin Chong that he wouldn't take offense at his teacher being beaten. Lin Chong understood and relaxed.

Instructor Hong rose first. "Come on, come on! Let's see what you've got!"

They all trooped out to the open ground behind the hall. A servant brought a bundle of staves and laid them on the ground. Hong stripped off his outer robe, tucked up his skirts, snatched a staff, and took a fighting stance—a flourish called "the battle drum."

"Come on!" he shouted.

"Instructor Lin," Chai Jin said, "please show us your skill."

"My lord," Lin Chong said, "don't laugh at me." He picked up a staff and faced his opponent. "Teacher, I await your instruction."

Hong glared at him as if he could swallow him whole. Lin Chong set himself in the posture known as "Shandong's Great Thunder"—the classic aggressive opening. Hong stamped his staff on the ground and charged.

The two instructors met beneath the bright moon. It was a fine sight: the Great Thunder staff came screaming like a loach bursting from its hole, while Hong's "Hebei Cross-Blade" style coiled like a python striking from its lair. The Great Thunder battered like a monstrous tree torn up by its roots; the Cross-Blade lashed like dead vines whipping across the earth—two dragons fighting over a pearl in the sea, two tigers battling before a cliff.

Four or five exchanges passed. Then Lin Chong suddenly hopped out of the circle and called: "A moment!"

Chai Jin was puzzled. "Instructor, why aren't you using your full skill?"

"I concede," Lin Chong said.

"You haven't even fought properly! How can you be conceding?"

"It's this cangue," Lin Chong said. "It handicaps me too much—I'll count it as a loss."

Chai Jin laughed heartily. "My mistake!" He called for ten taels of silver and addressed the escorts: "Forgive my presumption, gentlemen, but do me the favor of removing Instructor Lin's cangue. If there are any questions at the prison camp tomorrow, I'll handle them. Here's ten taels of silver for your trouble."

Dong Chao and Xue Ba saw how imposing Chai Jin was and didn't dare refuse. They'd get a nice reward out of it anyway—and they weren't worried about Lin Chong escaping now. Xue Ba unfastened the cangue.

Chai Jin beamed. "Now, instructors—let's have another round!"

Hong had seen Lin Chong's staff work and thought him timid; he was confident now. He picked up his staff, ready to go—but Chai Jin called: "Wait!" He ordered a servant to bring out an ingot of silver weighing twenty-five taels.

"This bout is no ordinary affair," Chai Jin declared. "This silver is the prize. Whoever wins takes it."

He deliberately threw the ingot on the ground, wanting only to see Lin Chong unleash his true skill.

Instructor Hong was furious at Lin Chong for daring to challenge him, greedy for the big silver, and afraid of losing face. He gripped his staff and took a stance called "setting fire to heaven"—a blazing offensive posture.

Lin Chong thought: Lord Chai wants me to win. He leveled his staff and answered with "parting grass to seek the snake," a patient, waiting guard.

"Come on!" Hong roared, swinging his staff down in an overhand strike.

Lin Chong stepped back. Hong pressed forward another step and swung again. Lin Chong saw his opponent's footwork had gone sloppy—and in that instant he flicked his staff up from the ground, spun with his whole body, and cracked the shaft across Hong's shinbone.

Hong dropped his staff and crashed to the earth.

Chai Jin was delighted. "Bring wine!" he shouted. Everyone burst out laughing. Instructor Hong couldn't even get up. The servants helped him to his feet, grinning as they did so; face burning with shame, he stumbled off outside the manor walls.

Chai Jin took Lin Chong's hand and led him back into the hall for more wine. He ordered the prize silver brought and offered it to Lin Chong. Lin Chong refused, but Chai Jin insisted until finally he accepted.

Chai Jin kept Lin Chong at the manor for several days, feasting him daily on fine food and drink. After five or six days more, the escorts began pressing to move on. Chai Jin threw a farewell banquet, then wrote two letters of introduction.

"Officials in Cangzhou are friends of mine," he told Lin Chong, "and the prison warden and head jailer there have close ties with me as well. Take these letters when you arrive—they'll treat you well."

He presented Lin Chong with another twenty-five-tael ingot and gave five taels to each of the escorts. They drank through the night.

At dawn they ate breakfast, and Chai Jin had servants carry their baggage to the road. Lin Chong put his cangue back on—though now it seemed more a formality than a restraint—said farewell, and set out with his escorts.

"In a few days I'll send someone with winter clothes for you," Chai Jin promised.

"How can I ever repay your kindness?" Lin Chong said.

The two escorts added their thanks as well.

They reached Cangzhou by mid-morning. Though small, the town had its streets and markets. They went straight to the prefectural office, delivered the documents, and were led before the magistrate. He accepted the papers, issued a receipt, and ordered Lin Chong committed to the prison camp. The escorts took their receipt, said goodbye, and headed back to the capital.

Lin Chong was brought to the camp: high walls, strong gates, wide grounds, deep ponds. Willows trailed green smoke beside the Hall of the Heavenly King; old pines stood dark against the sky. Men came and went—all hard-bitten souls who'd bitten nails and chewed iron, men who'd shed blood and bared their hearts.

The camp warden assigned Lin Chong to a solitary cell pending inspection. Other prisoners came to look him over and offer advice.

"These wardens and jailers are vicious," they told him. "All they want is to squeeze money out of you. Give them gifts, and they treat you well. If you've got nothing, they throw you in an earthen pit where you can't live and can't die. With the right bribes, you don't get your hundred welcoming strokes—they say you're sick and 'postpone' it. Without bribes, that hundred strokes beats you seven parts dead and eight parts crippled."

"Brothers," Lin Chong said, "if I want to pay, how much should I give?"

"If you want proper treatment, five taels for the warden and five for the head jailer—that'll do nicely."

Just then a head jailer came by. "Which one's the new convict?" he demanded.

Lin Chong stepped forward. "I am."

The jailer saw no silver forthcoming and his face twisted with contempt. He jabbed a finger at Lin Chong: "You thieving convict! Why don't you kneel when you see me? Just a little bow like that! I can tell you made trouble in the capital—you've got nerve, looking at me so bold. Your face is stamped with starvation, you'll never amount to anything! You're nothing but a beaten dog who won't die! When I get my hands on you, I'll grind your bones to powder. You'll see soon enough!"

The jailer cursed Lin Chong until the Buddha himself would have fled; Lin Chong didn't dare raise his head. The other prisoners scattered.

When the man had finished, Lin Chong took out five taels of silver and approached him with an apologetic smile. "Brother Jailer, a small token—please don't think it too little."

The jailer looked at it. "Is this for the warden and me both?"

"This is just for you," Lin Chong said. "There's another ten taels I'd like you to deliver to the warden on my behalf."

The jailer's face transformed. He smiled warmly: "Instructor Lin! I've heard your good name—you're truly a fine man! Marshal Gao must have framed you, that's clear. Though you suffer for now, you'll surely rise again. With your reputation and bearing, you're no ordinary man—one day you'll hold high office."

"All thanks to your kind care," Lin Chong said.

"Don't worry about a thing."

Lin Chong produced the letters from Chai Jin. "Would you also deliver these two letters?"

The jailer's eyes widened. "You have Lord Chai's letters? Then there's nothing to fear—one of these is worth an ingot of gold! I'll deliver them right away. When the warden comes to inspect you and orders your hundred strokes, just say you fell ill on the road and haven't recovered. I'll back you up so no one suspects."

"Thank you for your guidance."

The jailer took the silver and letters and left. Lin Chong sighed: "'Money can move the gods'—the saying's true enough. This is indeed a bitter world."

The jailer kept five taels for himself and brought only the other five plus the letters to the warden. He described Lin Chong as a fine man, said Lord Chai had sent recommendations, and explained that Marshal Gao had framed him—nothing serious.

"Since Lord Chai recommends him," the warden said, "we must look after him." He ordered Lin Chong brought before him.

Lin Chong was sitting gloomily in his cell when a guard called: "The warden wants you—the new convict, come for inspection!"

Lin Chong went to the hall. The warden said: "You're a newly arrived prisoner. By the founding emperor's law, all new exiles receive one hundred strokes of the rod. Men—strip him and lay on!"

"My lord," Lin Chong pleaded, "I caught a chill on the road and haven't recovered yet. I beg to postpone the beating."

The guard added: "This man is genuinely ill, sir—please show mercy."

"Very well," the warden said. "Since he's unwell, we'll postpone it until he recovers."

The jailer spoke up: "The post of keeper at the Hall of the Heavenly King has been vacant for some time now. Let Lin Chong take over that duty." He drew up the paperwork on the spot and led Lin Chong out to collect his belongings.

"Instructor Lin," the jailer said as they walked, "I'm doing you a real favor. The Hall of the Heavenly King is the easiest job in this camp—all you do is burn incense and sweep the floor morning and evening. Other convicts work from dawn till night without rest; and those without connections get thrown into the earthen pit where they can't live and can't die."

"I'm grateful for your help." Lin Chong pressed another three or four taels on him. "One more favor—could you have this cangue taken off? That would be even better."

The jailer pocketed the silver. "Consider it done." He went at once to get the warden's approval, and soon the cangue was removed.

Lin Chong settled into the Hall of the Heavenly King, burning incense and sweeping floors day after day. Forty or fifty days slipped by unnoticed. The warden and jailer, having been well paid, grew familiar with him and left him alone entirely. Chai Jin sent winter clothes and gifts as promised, and Lin Chong shared what he had with his fellow prisoners.

Winter deepened. One day around mid-morning, Lin Chong wandered out of camp for a walk. He'd gone a short way when someone called from behind: "Instructor Lin! What are you doing here?"

Lin Chong turned to see who it was—and that sight would lead him into fire and snow, nearly costing him his life before this tale was done. Who had he seen? Hear the next chapter to find out.