Chapter Thirty-Six: The Eight Tiger Divine Generals of the Tang Clan in Shu

Footsteps sounded outside the door. Tang Guang pushed Baoling inside, wearing a mocking, sinister grin. “Master Tianjiu, I know you’re still holding a grudge over the massacre in Sola Hongwang Village, east of Kathmandu in Nepal. I’ve heard you and Jin Chan-zi go way back, and this kind of case has already happened three times, each time to your friends. Yet I have to admire you. Even with Jin Chan-zi pressing you so hard, you’re still desperate to protect these three barrels of thangka fragments. But I don’t understand—what use are these fragments, really? Do you honestly believe they can be pieced back together into the original thangka and have the power to subdue demons?”

Tear stains marred Baoling’s cheeks, her hair hung loose, and two fresh cuts marked her jaw. When she saw Guan Wen, her eyes filled with deep sorrow, as if she had lost all hope.

“Who are you?” Master Tianjiu asked through gritted teeth.

“I’m Tang Guang,” Tang Guang replied with a laugh.

Master Tianjiu pondered for a moment before a sudden realization dawned. “Tang Guang? You’re from that mysterious sect on the southwestern frontier of China, aren’t you?”

Tang Guang straightened, his smile fading, and nodded. “That’s right, I’m from the Tang Clan of Shu.”

Master Tianjiu drew in a sharp breath. “Tang Guang… the Tang Clan of Shu… Are you Tang Guang, one of the ‘Eight Tiger Generals’ of the Tang Clan?”

Tang Guang nodded again, a cruel glint in his eye. “Exactly. I am Tang Guang, one of the Tang Clan’s ‘Eight Tiger Generals—Bringing Glory to the Ancestors, Slaying All Foes.’”

In that instant, he was no longer the sneering, sly middle-aged man he’d appeared to be. The weight of that name seemed to bestow upon him an immense, fathomless power. His presence shifted in a heartbeat, transforming into that of a mighty general, commanding and unyielding.

Master Tianjiu fell silent, sighing three times.

“Master Tianjiu, Jin Chan-zi has said: as long as you reveal the secret of the Sumeru Mustard Seed Chamber, you can live. Of course, he hopes that after this ordeal you’ll come to your senses, lead the wise men of the Five Nations and Twelve Monasteries away from Tibet, and stop opposing the Azure Dragon Society. The Azure Dragon is elusive, its strength so great that even the Pentagon in the United States takes notice. You, a humble sage from Nepal, trying to resist them—isn’t that like a mantis trying to stop a chariot?” Tang Guang shoved Baoling forward, arrogance and self-importance etched in every line of his face.

Guan Wen caught Baoling, feeling her body tremble like a candle in the wind.

“Three days. I expect results,” said Basang before slowly withdrawing.

Tang Guang walked over, untying Master Tianjiu, then leaned close to his ear, whispering menacingly, “If you hadn’t brought the thangka fragments here, none of this would have happened. It’s too late for regret now. Think of your friends—Haizhelun’s family in the Dream Whisper Villa of Uttar Pradesh, burned alive; Maichai’s family in the Guoduo Qiya Fortress of Zhongying Province, burned alive; Tuxianjing’s family in Sola Hongwang Village, burned alive. But did you know? None of them died by fire. Like Feng He, their throats were slit before being set alight. They begged me for mercy, swore never to hide those silver barrels for you again, even offered all their money and women, pleading for their lives. But it was all useless. The Tang Clan’s Eight Tiger Generals were born executioners—our only interest is in killing…”

Master Tianjiu’s arms jerked as he roared, “I’ll kill you—!”

Alas, he had barely lunged before Tang Guang spun and threw him back, sending him sprawling.

“Forgot to mention,” Tang Guang sneered, “Jin Chan-zi’s poison is extremely potent. Once it takes effect, your martial arts are gone for at least a month. So now, just like the other two, you’re powerless—useless. Well, I won’t delay your deliberations any further. Goodbye, goodbye…”

Tang Guang backed out as he spoke, licking his lips with a blood-red tongue, casting a wicked, leering smile at Baoling.

At the threshold, he muttered to himself with a cold laugh, “Such a beautiful woman—roasting her after killing her must be quite a delight.”

The door closed. Baoling’s tears flowed silently down her face.

“Are you all right?” Guan Wen raised her collar.

Baoling trembled even harder, her voice shaking. “If… if someone must die, kill me first. I’d rather die by your hand than fall into his. I just saw… back where I was held, he used a knife to slice flesh from a corpse and roast it… I’d rather die at the hands of a sane person than have him kill and eat me…”

Guan Wen opened his arms, and Baoling immediately collapsed into his embrace. At that moment, a warm hug was worth more than a thousand words.

“How did they capture you? Where’s Gao Xiang?” Guan Wen asked.

“I don’t know. After Feng He was killed, Gao Xiang, Old Dao, Chizan, and I left the compound, looking for a hotel. We passed through a dark alley and suddenly smelled a strange floral fragrance. Then I lost consciousness. When I woke, I was under the control of that madman. I haven’t seen anyone else,” Baoling replied.

Mandrake—every part of the plant, from seed and root to petal and scent, is a powerful narcotic. Blended with other toxins, even the strongest person… can’t resist it. This time… it’s truly inescapable…” Master Tianjiu struggled to his feet, his tone desolate, stripped of all his former arrogance.

He went to the door and pushed and pulled at the iron bars again and again, but the heavy black door didn’t budge.

“We’re finished,” he said. “Falling into the hands of the Azure Dragon Society, there can’t be a good end.”

“But we’ve never offended them, and we don’t even know the thangka’s secret! I only came to Tashilhunpo Monastery to seek a dream. I have no quarrel with anyone…” Baoling sobbed.

“They want the secrets of Tashilhunpo, the thangka, and Mount Niseri. Until those secrets are revealed, they won’t kill us. The problem is, we don’t even know what the secret is—Master, you are renowned for your wisdom. Can you tell us what is hidden in these thangka fragments?” Guan Wen’s composure remained, for he knew that the secret was both the cause of their disaster and their only hope for survival. Basang and Tang Guang would not act rashly until they had it.

Master Tianjiu went to the silver barrel, scooped up a handful of fragments, and raised them high before letting them spill through his fingers in a sparkling cascade.

“I have always believed that the key to exorcising evil lies within these fragments. The outside world is mistaken—they think I collect them for some treasure, or to monopolize the secret of eternal life in Tibetan Buddhism. Rumors swirl—both the underworld and the respectable blame me for being selfish and greedy. But they are all wrong. For years, I have devoted myself to unraveling the secret of the thangka fragments, to complete the great work of exorcising evil. Everyone believes that in the golden age of the Tang dynasty, a king and two princesses subdued the demoness of Rakshasa, and from then on, humanity north and south of the Himalayas could rest easy. In truth, ‘subduing the demon’ was a last resort. The king and princesses aimed to eliminate the threat entirely. But their power was only enough to suppress her underground, not destroy her.”

Guan Wen believed this without doubt.

In Lhasa, following Master Cheng into the depths, he had understood the helplessness of the ancient king and princesses. Subduing the demon was like drinking poison to slake thirst; only by eradicating it could peace be lasting. As humanity advanced, the evil lurking in the underworld evolved as well. Not only did banishing it become more difficult, even the act of keeping it suppressed became untenable.

“So everyone misunderstood you,” Guan Wen said.

“My original name is Kanna Doporun. The Kanna clan is one of Kathmandu’s great families, owning countless houses and fields east of the city. Since the twenty-fifth generation, my family has suffered a terrible curse—our numbers dwindled from tens of thousands to mere hundreds, with more than half in each generation struck by strange illnesses, dying in agony. The twenty-ninth patriarch, Kanna Habiwu, went to the summit of Everest to pray for salvation. There, he received a revelation: each generation’s wisest son must devote his life to exorcising evil, and the clan would prosper. Thus, our fate became intertwined with the eradication of demons. The sooner we complete this task, the sooner our misfortune ends.” Master Tianjiu scooped up two more handfuls of fragments, flinging them upward like a goddess scattering flowers.

“Now, all is lost,” he said. “I cannot piece these fragments together. I can’t even start the work of exorcism. And as Tang Guang said, in protecting them, I have brought disaster to my friends. I never should have let the Kanna clan’s doom taint their lives…”

Suddenly, Baoling stopped crying, staring blankly at Master Tianjiu’s back.

“What is it?” Guan Wen whispered.

“That scene appeared in my dream too… To break is to rebuild… To break is to rebuild… Breaking means we’re on the wrong path, we must start over… I see it, I see it!” She shoved Guan Wen aside and rushed forward, plunging both hands into a silver barrel. After a moment, she scooped up a handful of fragments and threw them into the air without even looking.

“What are you doing?” Master Tianjiu shouted angrily.

In the past, he thought of the fragments as priceless. Even a stranger touching them would enrage him.

But Baoling seemed not to hear. She scooped up more fragments, held them before her eyes, and stared intently. Then, she pressed her face into them, unmoving, remaining silent for several minutes.

Guan Wen gazed at her back, a strange feeling stirring within him. Images flickered in his mind. He felt as if he was pushing open a door to the secrets hidden among the thangka fragments; if he kept searching, he would understand.

What was it? What could it be? He pressed his fingers to his temples, as if squeezing out the elusive thoughts.

Slowly, Baoling began to make a low, plaintive sound, like an infant’s cry or the lament of a soul through many lifetimes. The sound shifted into a deep, solemn chant, ancient and winding, not any modern tune Guan Wen recognized.

Suddenly, Baoling cried out, “Break it, we must break everything…” She grabbed more fragments and hurled them into the air, aimless, nearly deranged.

“Stop!” Master Tianjiu shouted again.

Guan Wen rushed forward, blocking him, and warned quietly, “Don’t interrupt. She’s onto something.”

Master Tianjiu’s face was full of confusion. “What?”

Guan Wen immediately cupped his hand over Master Tianjiu’s mouth. Together, they watched Baoling.

“Master, I understand now. Breaking is for rebuilding. We must overturn all our old conclusions. Everyone was wrong from the start. You can’t just hide away—defense alone is impossible. In a moment of life and death, only radical action will do. That’s it, that’s it… that’s it…” Baoling gasped, shoving over the silver barrel.

She proceeded to topple the second and third barrels, dancing with wild joy.

After a while, Baoling was spent. She stopped, covering her face with her hands and standing facing the wall.

Fragments now covered the floor, like a sudden snowfall in the night.

Master Tianjiu’s face was twisted, clearly struggling to contain his anger and resentment.

“Baoling.” Guan Wen walked up behind her and spoke softly.

“I’m exhausted.” Baoling’s body swayed as if about to fall.

Guan Wen reached out, holding her shoulders. “You’re tired. Lie down and rest a while.”

He spread his coat on the ground for Baoling and urged her to lie down, then sat beside her so she could rest her head on his lap.

“Sleep a while, you’ll feel better,” he said.

“I can’t tell what’s dream and what’s reality anymore… I’m so tired, I want to go home…” Baoling murmured.

“When this is over, I’ll take you back to Hong Kong,” Guan Wen comforted her.

Baoling’s eyes suddenly flashed bright and clear, fixed on Guan Wen. “Not my home in Hong Kong, but in…” She switched to another language, naming a place.

Master Tianjiu cried out, “What? What are you saying? How do you know that place?”

Baoling repeated herself in the same language. This time, Guan Wen recognized it as Nepali, and the place as somewhere linked to Kathmandu.

Cold sweat broke out on Master Tianjiu’s forehead. He strode over and looked down at Baoling, asking her urgent questions in Nepali, his voice anxious and fearful.

Baoling answered him calmly, one question after another.

Suddenly, Master Tianjiu fell to his knees and kowtowed to Baoling again and again.

“She… she’s… she is the thirty-third generation sage of the Kanna family, the Princess Chao Ge, who studied with the Great Dharma Wheel King of Sikkim since childhood…” Master Tianjiu’s voice was hoarse and trembling with a mixture of awe, sorrow, and joy.