Chapter 42: You Should Call Me Uncle

Chapter 42: You Should Call Me Uncle

The leader knew I was not someone to tangle with. But there were more of them, and he had his brothers watching — he could not afford to fold. He squared his shoulders and was just about to snap back when someone behind him caught his arm.

That man studied me for a moment. “You’re Great Dharma Master Xuanhong, aren’t you?”

I nodded. “I don’t deserve that title. I’ve returned to lay life. I’m only a common man now.”

The man dropped to his knees. “Dharma Master, please forgive me — I was blind, I had no idea. My father was at Pingdu Hospital not long ago. Terminal diagnosis, nothing more to be done. You were the one who saved him, free of charge. He’s never stopped telling us to be grateful for what you did. I’ve been hoping to find you ever since and never could. I never imagined I’d run into you here.”

I pulled him to his feet. “Please — the Dharma master belongs to another life. I’ve returned to lay life and gone into business. This elderly couple are from my hometown. Making a living away from home is hard enough. I hope you’ll leave them in peace.”

The burly leader seemed to place me now as well. He bowed again and again, calling himself blind, saying he never could have imagined meeting a living god today, begging my forgiveness.

I had not expected that after so much time, people still remembered me. The stories had probably grown in the telling. In any case, the men’s manner shifted immediately to something approaching reverence.

I raised one palm. “All things arise from cause and condition. I hope you will each make an effort to do good, work off the ill karma you have accumulated, and find your way back before it is too late.”

After seeing the group out, the elderly couple thanked me so many times I lost count. From now on, they said, whatever day I came in, the meal was on the house.

“It isn’t easy running a business,” I said. “If you don’t charge me, you might as well be hanging a sign that says I’m no longer welcome.”

I insisted on paying.

The old man did not know whether to take the money or push it back. He stood there looking thoroughly awkward.

I finally put the money away. “All right. Consider this one your treat. But if you refuse next time, I won’t dare come back.”

“You must come back,” the old couple said together. “You absolutely must. Next time I’ll make you proper, authentic Sichuan food.”

I left their restaurant and returned to the company.

Gu Kunling still had not appeared. The sky was darkening, and I was starting to worry. I had no way of knowing how the transfer was going on her end.

By rights, the Soul Hunters were meant to move at the zi hour, around midnight. But my pursuit of Ren Jingze to Big Bell Temple and the rescue of Gu Qiutang might well have startled the snake. It was entirely possible they had moved early because of me.

I ran back over the map Ren Jingze had shown at Lu Qingyue’s apartment. Two resistance bases — one in the northern suburbs, one in the western suburbs.

Sitting here waiting was pointless. I might as well go and look.

The Soul Hunters’ plan had been to hit north first, then west. But more than four hours had passed since I pulled Gu Qiutang out. If they had moved ahead of schedule, the northern base would already be done. I decided to check the western base first, and the northern one after.

In Pingdu City’s western suburbs lay Xishan Red Leaf Valley, south of Xiangshan — a scenic area that drew visitors only in season. The scenic area administrative office had five or six buildings, and that was the zone Ren Jingze had circled in blue on the map.

I took a company car and drove straight for Xishan Red Leaf Valley.

Because it was early summer, the trees in Red Leaf Valley were all green, and there were not many tourists or passersby.

Passing Fahai Temple, I remembered there was a safe house there.

Gu Qiutang had marked three safe houses for me in total, meant for my own emergencies. I had never expected the first one to be used on him.

Just before the scenic area entrance, I turned off into Chenjiagou Village and parked. Then I went invisible and continued on foot.

Evening had settled in. The scenic area gate was already closed. An old man sat alone in the gatehouse.

I vaulted the gate and headed directly for the office area.

The sun was low, the trees thick with summer green, everything quiet.

Then a shadow leaped from one treetop to the next. I looked up. There were people in the trees — many of them. Judging by their clothes, they were all dressed in black. Probably Sweepers.

I scanned with penetrating vision. No Soul Hunters. Perhaps the Sweepers were here to control the site, while the Soul Hunters were still busy with the northern base.

I slipped quietly into the office area and moved through the rooms. None were occupied. A single cleaner was sweeping the corridor.

I had no idea where the base entrance was. Better to stay out of sight and wait.

I retreated to the gatehouse and let myself in through the back, settling onto the bed in the inner room. Waiting up in a tree while the wind had its way with me held no appeal whatsoever.

Much more comfortable in here.

The old gatekeeper sat at the outer window the whole time, scrolling on his phone. About half an hour passed. Then I heard him shout for a vehicle to stop.

I leaned over to look. A black business van was pulling up — similar to the one that had taken Xuanhong last time.

Two figures in Sweeper gear stepped out. “CWP investigation. Open the gate.”

The old man checked their credentials and lifted the barrier.

I went invisible and followed them through.

The van pulled up at the office area. Nine people climbed out, driver included. They divided into three teams of three, each carrying a detection device, and moved into the building’s various rooms.

The figures in the trees did not come down.

After a few minutes, one of the men called out, “Captain — something’s off in here.”

The others converged. I drifted closer.

It was in the east room on the first floor of the innermost building.

The nine men shifted a row of cabinets aside. Behind them was an iron door.

They began placing charges.

A blast tore through the door.

Eight of them crawled through the breach. One stayed behind to guard the opening.

Minutes passed. Then a second explosion, heavier than the first, and a column of thick smoke erupted from the hole. The entrance caved in immediately after, sealing over.

The blast inside was clearly meant to bury these Sweepers alive.

The lone guard outside spun around, frantic, already moving to help — when the figures dropped from the trees. They hit the ground running, poured into the building, and put the remaining man down with swift, coordinated efficiency.

I watched from the shadows and did nothing. I still could not tell who was who.

Then the group moved to a second hidden room and began clearing it out — equipment, all of it. They loaded everything into the van the Sweepers had arrived in and drove away.

Fake Sweepers.

They were using Sweeper identities and a Sweeper vehicle to move the equipment. Clever — the biggest advantage was slipping through the Qiankun Department’s wireless detection net.

I followed the van as it wound toward the mountain road, keeping my distance.

It had barely reached the Chenjiagou intersection when an explosion punched the vehicle off the road.

Four mist-figures came shooting out of the tree line on both sides. A sharp crack, and the van door caved in. They piled inside, and the interior erupted with noise.

Soul Hunter Whips.

So the Soul Hunters had been waiting here all along. The Sweepers who had gone in were nothing but the advance team.

I was glad I had not been riding the van. I would not have come out of that well.

The Soul Hunters dragged several bodies clear and were moving in to search when a shout rang out, an invisible figure was kicked free of the wreckage, and a blood-soaked man came bursting out of the van gripping a suitcase in one hand.

The Soul Hunters surged after him. “There we go — we’ve got a big one!”

Four Soul Hunter Whips cracked toward him at once.

The blood-covered man was extremely agile. He twisted and dodged and hit back hard, and the exchange became a real fight. But through all of it, he never once released the suitcase.

Who were these people?

I kept scanning with penetrating vision, but I genuinely did not recognize him.

I only moved when he was clearly about to give out. I activated the joined two green jade tokens.

Time froze.

I released the invisible people’s invisibility mechanisms one by one.

Ren Jingze. Tang Tingsheng. Ran Weiping. Luo Shu. No sign of Lu Qingyue.

Even if she was somewhere nearby, it made no difference. I had frozen time across at least five hundred meters, and I was still invisible. There was nothing she could do.

I swept the surrounding area. Neither she nor her husband was anywhere in sight.

I did not know the blood-covered man. But if the Soul Hunters had been trying to kill him, he was probably on our side.

I hauled him onto my back, picked up the suitcase he had been protecting with his life, and headed for Chenjiagou Village.

I found my car where I had left it, laid the man and the suitcase in the back seat, and did one more sweep of the surroundings. Nothing.

I drove out of the mountains by a different route — south around the hillside, then north. When I came up on Fahai Temple, the safe house came to mind again. I decided to move him into that safe house to hide.

“You — you’re Gu Beichen?”

The man in the back seat had come around. I had let my invisibility go while driving. He was half-slumped across the seat, breathing in ragged pulls.

I was mildly surprised. “You know me?”

“Of course I do.” He paused to catch his breath. “You’re my sister’s son. You should call me Uncle.”

I glanced back at him. “Trying to take advantage of me? I just saved your life. I don’t have an uncle.”

He laughed — quietly, through the pain. “Fair enough. Nobody ever told you. You don’t even know your own birth mother. How could you know me?”

“What exactly are you trying to say?” I said, a note of irritation creeping in. “My parents both died in battle. My grandmother raised me. My mother died when I was one year old. I never had the chance to know her.”

The blood-covered man let it go. “My name is Wang Rongliang. From now on — call me Uncle Liang.”

“No,” I said. “I’ll call you Old Wang. I don’t know you.”

“You little brat. What ‘Old Wang’? Sounds like ‘old bastard.’ Are you trying to curse me?”

Despite everything, I actually laughed.

He could not tell a friendly remark from an insult. But he was older than me, and I had at least once been a monk of some standing. I could not be bothered to argue.