Chapter Twenty-Seven: Suddenly Caught in a Trap

Ding Jun closed his eyes, recalling every detail from last night when Si Qin was stabbed and collapsed. Suddenly, he made a decision: Miss Fang, you stay at the monastery. I’m going to Zhada County.

Fang Qing immediately understood: You’re going to find Master Shi… the skilled healer?

Since Master Shi was the one pulling the strings behind the scenes, she no longer respectfully called him Uncle Shi.

We must find him to uncover the truth, Ding Jun said with unwavering resolve.

But what about Si Qin? If she dies, what happens to the baby—or conversely, if the baby dies, what happens to her? Fang Qing asked anxiously.

Ding Jun placed a hand on Fang Qing’s shoulder, looked into her eyes, and replied softly: Don’t overthink it. Follow your heart. What you worry about exists only in assumptions. We are caught in a whirlpool of adversity; we must carve paths through mountains, build bridges over rivers, respond to every move, and act according to the situation. Don’t make too many assumptions—that won’t help and will only disrupt morale, which is a cardinal sin in war. Now, calm down, have a good breakfast, then wash up and read a sutra. Remember, what we can change, we’ll handle at once; what we cannot change, forcing it is futile. Like when you asked me about the mark in the sutra library—what I knew, I told you; what I didn’t, I won’t fabricate, right?

Fang Qing quieted down, and the two silently exchanged gazes.

Sorry, she said after a long pause, feeling embarrassed.

Don’t apologize; you owe no one anything. We were all swept into this without cause. Now, I’m leaving. Everything here is in your hands. Keep in touch. Without hesitation, Ding Jun stepped out.

From the courtyard to the entrance of Tolin Monastery, the monks’ chanting echoed continuously. Suddenly, he felt a surge of anger—Master Shi had extended the battlefield to this ancient monastery on the Tibetan border, disturbing the peaceful cultivation of nearly a hundred monks. How despicable.

He started his vehicle and sped toward Zhada County.

Zhada, meaning "grassy place downstream" in Tibetan, was originally under the jurisdiction of Zaburong and Daba tribes. In October 1956, these tribes merged to establish the Zhada tribal office. By May 1960, Zhada County was formed under the Ali Prefecture, with its government stationed in Tolin Town.

Zhada County was once known as the smallest county in the mainland, so its streets were sparsely populated.

Master Shi’s private clinic was located north of Tolin Town, with a street-facing building for receiving patients and dispensing medicine. To the right of the clinic was a large black iron gate leading inward to the Shi family residence.

When Ding Jun arrived, the clinic’s wooden door was firmly shut, and all was silent inside. He moved to the side and knocked on the iron gate, but no one responded. It was clear Master Shi had closed the clinic to avoid trouble, moving his entire family away thoroughly.

On the iron gate was a half-foot square hatch. Ding Jun pushed it open and felt a heavy iron lock. He was prepared—two fine steel hooks hidden between his fingers slid into the keyhole. After four or five quick moves, the lock clicked open.

He pushed the door and then locked it behind him.

The Shi family courtyard was large—fifty paces north to south, a hundred east to west—roughly the size of a small sports field. Only one row of houses stood against the northern edge, facing south. Counting from the gate, there were fifteen rooms, providing quite spacious living quarters.

Ding Jun strode across the empty courtyard and entered the central northern room. It was a spacious main hall furnished with six sets of sofas. On the side walls hung several calligraphy and paintings.

The first thing that caught Ding Jun’s eye was an ancient script in clerical style, a copy of Mencius’s essay “Born in Anxiety, Die in Comfort.”

He stood at the door for five minutes, scanning the room repeatedly. A thin layer of dust covered the floor, with only occasional mouse footprints beneath the paintings—no other signs of disturbance. This meant no one had entered this house for a long time.

He inspected each room; all were the same—no footprints from living people.

Master Shi hadn’t returned? Where could he have gone? Was there nothing left here to hold him? Frowning, Ding Jun pondered and slowly backed out, surveying the courtyard.

Suddenly, he sensed a subtle but deadly intent—coming from the tightly shut clinic.

At the critical moment, he dashed to the right just in time. A bullet shattered the glass panel on the door where he had just stood, at head height.

Ding Jun swiftly dodged into a doorway beside the main hall and lay motionless beneath the window.

He didn’t want to kill, but the enemy kept pressing—what choice was there? He asked himself. Had he not been alert enough, that bullet would have pierced his skull.

At that moment, his body suddenly felt light, caught in a large gray net and suspended midair. The net tightened rapidly; he curled up to avoid injury.

“Ah…” someone yawned long and lazily, peeking out from behind a sofa, blinking small eyes at Ding Jun.

Finally, the wait is over. I’ve been here for seven days and nights—it’s exhausting! The small-eyed man stood, stretched, and yawned again.

Soon two more entered, one carrying a long gun—the one who had fired at Ding Jun.

“Snow Girl called; she’ll be here soon,” said the rifleman.

The small-eyed man answered, “We’re done here. Why not head straight to Tolin Monastery to meet her? Why linger here? Honestly, this Shi family courtyard feels eerie, like something’s off.”

A third man, wearing a greasy leather patch over his left eye, his right eye sharp and alert, slapped the small-eyed man’s shoulder: “Don’t overthink it; this place is perfectly safe.”

Small-eyed man shook his head: “No, no, I’m done with hiding. It’s suffocating, nerve-wracking, and maddening. Better to rush to Tolin and meet Old Jin—kill and rob to heart’s content!”

One-eyed man frowned: “Stop shouting about killing and robbing; that catchphrase isn’t good. If Snow Girl hears it, she’ll scold us again. We’re no longer the old Ten-Day Eagle, but her followers. We must obey her orders.”

Small-eyed man spat and fell silent.

The rifleman looked up at Ding Jun hanging from the beam, raised his gun in a shooting gesture, made a “bang” sound with his mouth, then laughed heartily.

Small-eyed man pulled a plastic bag from a cabinet, containing white liquor and cooked beef. The three drank and ate noisily.

Ding Jun silently weighed his options. To escape, he must slash through the net and kill all three. He was capable, and when caught, he’d slipped a blade between his fingers. It would take only seconds to cut through and break free. Once on the ground, he’d kill the rifleman first, take the gun, shoot the small-eyed man at close range, leaving only the one-eyed man alive.

This was his initial plan. But the repeated mention of Snow Girl made him reconsider. You can’t catch a tiger without entering its den. He would wait silently until Snow Girl appeared, then uncover all their plans before acting. That would be the true resolution.

After noon, the three, full and drunk, lowered the net from the beam and dragged Ding Jun back into the main hall.

Small-eyed man lifted the scroll with Mencius’s essay, revealing a white combination lock embedded in the wall. He quickly input a code, and the sofa in the northwest corner slid silently aside, revealing stone steps descending underground.

They dragged Ding Jun down into a large cellar emitting a strange stench. The cellar was thirty paces square, with cement table and chairs on the right. On the left lay a huge suspended copper plate over ten meters long and wide. Beneath it was a long rectangular pit filled with ashes.

Small-eyed man sighed: “What do you think Master Shi is doing with this setup? Copper plate, charcoal… is he trying to make grilled meat? Haha!”

The other two didn’t laugh. Ding Jun noticed the rifleman and one-eyed man exchanging glances, as if hiding secrets.

They placed Ding Jun on the copper plate and sat on the cement chairs.

Small-eyed man sniffed, frowned: “This smell is suffocating. Where does it come from? Hey, why are you silent? Cat got your tongue?”

The rifleman chuckled nervously: “I was just thinking—what exactly is this ‘Ancient Guge Divine Power’ we’ve heard about? Why do so many chase after it? Recently, we scouted dozens of times around the ruins of the Guge Kingdom, explored hundreds of caves—nothing. If the ancient Guge truly had such power, how could they vanish overnight? And if Snow Girl and the High Priestess possessed this power, why bother sending us? So I think it’s just a silly rumor—no such thing exists.”

Ding Jun noticed the rifleman never released the safety on his gun, ready to shoot at any moment.

“I’ve talked with Old Jin,” said the one-eyed man. “He believes firmly. We all know he’s been to the rear mountain and seen the Heavenly Eye Divine Wall himself. Though he can’t read it, he roughly understands from some pictographs that when the heavenly eye glows, the divine power manifests. But how the heavenly eye can glow, he doesn’t know.”

Ding Jun listened quietly, skillfully cutting through the net’s knots with his blade, slicing two-thirds through every rope below him. With a sudden thrust, he could break free in seconds.

He memorized those strange keywords: Heavenly Eye Divine Wall, Heavenly Eye, Divine Wall, ancient Guge pictographs.

He knew the three were waiting for Snow Girl. The real final battle would erupt the moment all arrived. Whether one against three, five, or ten, he had confidence to resolve all troubles and restore peace to Zhada County and Tolin Monastery.

Old Jin also mentioned a strange three-ring crescent mark found inside Tolin Monastery—very odd. We all know the strange sight of three crescents appears only in—

The one-eyed man was cut off by the small-eyed man’s surprised interruption: “Really? What does the mark look like? Did Old Jin explain?”

The one-eyed man rolled up his sleeves and scratched the cement table sharply with his fingernail. The sound sent chills through Ding Jun.

“The strangest part is the Arabic numeral ‘16’ in the center of the mark. Think about it—when we first saw the three moons in Mirror Illusion Abyss, was there any Arabic number? No,” he said.

The small-eyed man jumped up, circling the table, clapping loudly.

“Hey, stop clapping and talk!” the one-eyed man called.

Stopping, the small-eyed man’s eyes shone fiercely as he slammed the table. “I’ve figured it out—Tolin Monastery is connected to Mirror Illusion Abyss. Perhaps someone passed through Mirror Illusion Abyss, and on the way back left this mark at the monastery. So the mark holds a secret, not just random carving. Crescent, crescent, crescent… Why three crescents, not full moons or half moons? Humans find full moons easiest to draw—a circle suffices; half moons are simple too, like dumplings. But crescents—the two arcs nearly overlap…”

Ding Jun was moved; the reasoning was sound, but he wondered: What is Mirror Illusion Abyss? How could there be three moons?

It was likely that if the Ten-Day Eagle following Snow Girl came from Guge, then Mirror Illusion Abyss lay somewhere deep in the snowy mountains.

“Yes, yes,” the rifleman and one-eyed man nodded in agreement.

“So, what’s in Mirror Illusion Abyss? What’s inside Tolin Monastery?” Small-eyed man pounded the table again. “What are we waiting for? Let’s go to Tolin Monastery!”

The rifleman and one-eyed man shook their heads: “No, let’s wait for Snow Girl.”

Unable to contain his excitement, the small-eyed man slapped the table with every sentence: “Under the whole sky, only in Mirror Illusion Abyss can you see three moons… The one who left the mark is warning others something happened at new moonrise. The crescent represents time. Sixteen? Sixteen, sixteen…”

Ding Jun pondered the mark and the meaning of the Arabic numeral 16, puzzled. He hoped the small-eyed man would reveal more about Mirror Illusion Abyss to aid future search.

The rifleman repeatedly pressed his thumb against the trigger, eyes cold, murderous intent rising. But the dim cellar light and the small-eyed man’s excitement masked this from his companions.

“Think again—what’s in Mirror Illusion Abyss?” Small-eyed man answered vaguely, half-revealing.

The one-eyed man sighed: “What could be there? Empty, no birds or beasts. Stop teasing us—want to drive us crazy?”

The rifleman sighed deeply: “Sigh, I thought you’d figure something out. All this mystique, just false hope. Treasure’s everywhere; smart people just draw a line and find gold and silver. Meanwhile, we’re busy as hell and catch nothing.”

Small-eyed man smiled faintly, mumbling again: “What happened in Mirror Illusion Abyss? New moonrise… Why leave an Arabic numeral? Who is this mark for…”

Ding Jun noticed the small-eyed man had an effeminate manner. Now, his hands hung at his waist, fingers flexing, flicking, forming graceful poses, speaking with a shy tone. Even talking to the one-eyed man and rifleman, his legs shifted constantly, like a dancer warming up.

These odd behaviors triggered countless subtle clues in Ding Jun’s mind, suddenly illuminating a thought: Ah—dancer… Tolin Monastery dancer, the sixteen Vajra Maidens! Of course—the Arabic numeral ‘16’ represented the sixteen Vajra Maidens!

End of excerpt from “High-Speed Hidden Master,” Chapter 27: Trapped!