Chapter 1851 - The Arrest (Part 3)

Cui Hantang was stout of build, but quick on his feet. He whipped one sleeve upward like a bronze shield to guard his head and face, his free hand shooting out to seize the sorcerer's wrist. Yet the old man was faster by far. Cloth ripped with a vicious tear, and Cui Hantang felt a sudden chill below the belt. He cried out and leaped backward a full meter.

Heart still pounding, he looked down. From his lower abdomen to his crotch, his Daoist robe gaped open in a long gash. Though the chainmail's groin-guard had deflected most of the blow, his trousers were partly slashed as well—leaving him indecently exposed, a cold breeze whistling through the gap.

Had the chainmail not intercepted that strike, his prospects for happiness in the lower half of life would have been finished. And given the old demon's fondness for poison, even a scratch might have sent him straight to Cuigang Cemetery.

The brush with death left Cui Hantang shaken and furious. Any lingering inclination to toy with his opponent evaporated.

Lian Nishang had watched the chief narrowly avoid disaster in that lightning exchange, her face blanching white. Since he had ordered them not to shoot, she shouted instead, "Release the dog!"

Two sharp barks, and the handler let go. The wolfhound, straining at its leash, shot toward the old man like an arrow. The four-meter gap closed in an instant; jaws snapped at his arm. The sorcerer snarled, "Seeking death!" and swept his iron talons upward at the dog's underside—a blow that would certainly have killed the animal.

At that precise moment, Cui Hantang seized the instant the sorcerer's attention was diverted. He raised the object in his hand and pointed it at the old man. A spark of light flickered in his palm, followed by a rapid crackling: pa-pa, pa-pa. The sorcerer jerked as if struck by lightning; his movements froze, and the iron talons slipped from his fingers. His whole body curled into a ball, convulsing uncontrollably.

Cui Hantang sheathed his sword-shaped device and pointed at the old man. "Well? How does the taste of lightning suit you?"

Still trembling, the old man demanded, "You—you—what did you say? Wh-what magic is this?"

Cui Hantang thrust a finger skyward and declared grandly, "The Divine Empyrean School, True Art of the Five Thunders!"

"Ah! Say that again!" The old man's face twisted with fury, and he struggled to lunge at Cui Hantang.

Startled, Cui Hantang raised his hand and administered another jolt of the "True Art of the Five Thunders," then stepped back, eyeing the sorcerer warily.

The old man collapsed, tears and mucus streaming down his face. The reek of urine wafted up—he had lost control of his bladder.

The arresting soldiers stood slack-jawed. All they had seen was a blue spark leap from Daoist Cui's sword and strike the sorcerer, felling him in an instant. Closer at hand, Lian Nishang had observed more clearly: from the sword had shot a slender filament, its tip attached to a glittering object that had latched onto the sorcerer's body.

She recalled the "hand-cranked electric shock method" that Chief Zhou had described in an interrogation course—the reactions were identical. Presumably this was the same technique.

The soldiers swarmed forward, shackling the sorcerer hand and foot, stuffing something into his mouth to prevent suicide. Just as they were about to lead him away, Cui Hantang stopped them. "Strip him first and search him thoroughly!" He was still afraid the sorcerer concealed other tricks.

And so Wu Zhiqi was stripped bare—not even undergarments remained—and manhandled roughly by the crowd. Still uneasy, Cui Hantang ordered all the horse lanterns lit, bathing the sorcerer in blinding light. He picked up a twig and prodded the man's withered skin, poking here and there.

Gagged, Wu Zhiqi could only make muffled, inarticulate howls. He had never imagined he would suffer such humiliation. Cui Hantang shouted, "Hold him tighter! I'm not done searching!"

Lian Nishang looked puzzled; the assembled soldiers wore equally baffled expressions. This wasn't some pretty woman or handsome youth—just an old man who looked like a specter with his clothes off. What was Daoist Cui so interested in?

Before long, Cui Hantang had pried up a small flap of skin beneath the sorcerer's ribs using his twig. He ordered several men to grip the sorcerer firmly, then pulled on a pair of gloves with a sinister grin. Seizing the flap, he gave a sharp tug. With a tearing rip, the sorcerer screamed in agony—a large swatch of skin had been peeled away!

Everyone recoiled in shock. They hadn't expected Daoist Cui to be so ruthless as to flay a man alive. But something was off: the peeled skin didn't bleed.

"This is human skin, all right," Cui Hantang said, brandishing the membrane, "but not his."

Lian Nishang saw that although the exposed area was reddened, there was no broken skin or bleeding. On closer inspection, the membrane was actually a pouch. She didn't dare open it; she simply produced a kraft-paper evidence bag and deposited the object inside.

Cui Hantang located similar pouches on the sorcerer's arms and thighs—smaller in size. He cursed, "I knew you had secrets on your person! Now that I've plucked you clean, let's see what other tricks you can pull!"

Even the topknot was taken apart; sure enough, items were concealed there as well. Cui Hantang ordered the clothing and confiscated belongings sorted and bagged separately. A tattered rain cape was fetched from the grounds to cover the sorcerer.

Wu Zhiqi had been gaunt and hideous before; after this ordeal—hair loose and wild, naked save for the cape—he looked positively monstrous. Burning with shame and rage, he could say nothing with his mouth stuffed; his body writhed in protest. The escorting officers beat him with their batons until, overwhelmed by pain, he meekly allowed himself to be led away on a chain.

Cui Hantang instructed Lian Nishang and the others to take the sorcerer back while he returned to the hidden chamber for a more thorough search.

Carbide lamps had been set up throughout the burial grounds, illuminating every corner. The soldiers stung by hornets or wounded by hidden projectiles had been carried off—Cui Hantang suspected the prognosis was grim. The sorcerer hailed from the southwest, where he had cultivated a passion for poison; his every weapon was undoubtedly envenomed, and his hand was utterly merciless.

Inside the compound, Li Ziyu and other police officers, along with Political Security Bureau personnel, were conducting a dispersed search. Cui Hantang returned to the secret chamber and joined Li Ziyu, who was cataloging evidence, in a meticulous inspection and registration of the sorcerer's paraphernalia. Though the chamber was small, it contained an astonishing array of miscellaneous items. Some Cui Hantang recognized—props used by itinerant Daoists to hoodwink the credulous. Others were pills and powders of various kinds. He sniffed each one, musing that the old devil's collection was quite complete; once the case was closed, he would have to find a way to acquire it for himself.

Against the wall stood a pair of finely crafted bamboo walking sticks. Cui Hantang picked one up for a look—then his face changed. He set it down gingerly. When Li Ziyu looked puzzled, Cui Hantang produced a pair of leather gloves from his robe and donned them. "Be careful," he said.

Li Ziyu had no idea what warranted such caution. He watched Cui Hantang slip an oilcloth bag over the lower end of the bamboo tube and gently twist the handle. From the tube emerged a triangular head, followed by a body banded black and white—a deadly many-banded krait!

Having lived in Guangzhou, Li Ziyu knew the snake's fearsome toxicity. That was why, on tonight's operation, everyone wore thick cloth gaiters—precisely to guard against nocturnal snakebites. He hadn't expected to find one stashed in this very room!

He watched Cui Hantang hold his breath until the snake had slithered entirely into the bag, then cinch the opening tight. Wiping his brow, Cui Hantang muttered, "That was close!"

Had he not been on his guard—Wang Dong's death had already warned them—had he handled the bamboo staff carelessly, he might have been bitten!

Cui Hantang knew Guangzhou had no antivenom for banded kraits. Producing and storing snake antivenom was extremely complicated; only Lingao General Hospital kept any on hand. A bite here would almost certainly be fatal.

The other bamboo staff was empty—presumably its occupant was the snake he had crushed outside the gate. In retrospect, had tonight's raid not been so well prepared, he might have died several times over. A shiver of residual fear mingled with secret admiration for the Rotting Daoist—how on earth had that man survived, even thrived, in the wilds of southern Shandong and northern Jiangsu?

"Chief, this is..." Li Ziyu, too, had broken out in a cold sweat. He had never seen anything so sinister.

"This is a snake staff," Cui Hantang explained. "They supposedly originate in western Hunan, used specifically to conceal banded kraits for assassination." He demonstrated with the bamboo cane. "See how ingeniously it's made? The interior nodes have all been hollowed out—just enough room for a meter-long krait. There's a trapdoor at the bottom, released by tugging the handle, and at the tail end another mechanism to restrain the snake so it can only poke its head out to bite and can't escape... Truly a wicked design." He sighed.

Li Ziyu listened, heart racing. To think the realm of the Great Ming harbored so many demons and monsters! He had always believed Australian rule was an improvement over the Ming—the common people lived in peace—but the concept of "the darkness of the old society" had never truly sunk in. After the sorcery case and everything that had followed, the contrast between the two worlds hit him with full force.

"What exactly was the false Ming's government doing all these years!" Li Ziyu exclaimed with genuine indignation.

Cui Hantang smiled and nodded. "That's the difference."

Because of the snake-staff discovery, the search of the room proceeded with extreme caution. It took over an hour to inventory and remove every item. Finally, only the pile of broken jars in the corner remained.

Cui Hantang feared these vessels might be containers for raising venomous insects—"cultivating gu." He approached gingerly, donning mask and gloves, and pried open the first jar. To his surprise, it contained metal fragments of various sizes, silvery and glinting—loose silver, perhaps, in scattered chunks.

(End of Chapter)