Late at night on October 31, 1979, a fierce gale was raging outside the forestry farm. The whistling wind scurried through the sea of trees, sounding like the wailing of ghosts and howling of wolves, permeating the air with an eerie chill.
Qin Youming lay on a communal bunk, hands pillowed behind his head. He appeared to be sleeping soundly, but his mind was still pondering the portraits on the brocade, especially the marked meridian pathways.
With a thought, he imagined himself as a swimming fish diving into his own body, treating those meridians as rivers, lakes, and seas, swimming freely within them. His thoughts ran wild, unrestrained, as if only this could suppress the aching pain throughout his body.
But somehow, these fantasies suddenly dissipated.
For no reason, the fierce battle on the train surfaced in Qin Youming's mind.
Fists and feet flew, silhouettes flipped.
But soon, he drove the image away.
After all, a peaceful life is the truth; it is the life an ordinary person should lead.
As for that world that didn't belong to him, it was nothing more than a dream.
The heart-pounding excitement was over; it was time to wake from the dream.
In this place where water froze into ice and breath turned to frost, Qin Youming could hardly conjure any other thought beyond eating his fill, dressing warmly, and sleeping every day. Even if he had money, there was nowhere to spend it.
Fortunately, Platoon Leader Yang had said that once winter set in, taking advantage of the agricultural slack, he could organize everyone to put on a performance and do some reading.
Outside the window, a cold moon hung high. The pale moonlight pierced through the forest sea and the rustling window paper, spilling into the dormitory.
Qin Youming rolled out of bed with a single motion and fished two warmed roast chickens from under the toasty mattress.
It was mainly because the forestry farm was too cold. He hadn't eaten them immediately, saving the two roast chickens for the second half of the night. The others also took out their private stashes of good things. Wrapped in their quilts, they sat around the heated kang, bonding and enjoying the lively atmosphere.
Just as they were about to start eating, Liu Dabiao, who had gone out to relieve himself, had yet to return.
Yu Wen waited anxiously. "That guy wouldn't have fallen into a pit, would he? Why is taking a piss such a struggle?"
Qin Youming, however, was drowsy. Recently, following Xie Lao San, he had basically familiarized himself with the terrain near the forestry farm. Leaving early and returning late daily, and having to tame donkeys to transport wood, he was exhausted.
"Should we go out and take a look?"
"In this cold weather, I'm not going."
The men were chatting desultorily when suddenly, a strange noise came from outside the window.
"Wa-woo!"
"In the middle of the night, who the hell is screaming like a ghost out there?"
Yu Wu had a hot temper and cursed instinctively.
But his face changed the moment the words left his mouth.
This sound didn't seem like something a human could make.
It was more like some kind of wild beast.
"Something's wrong!"
Qin Youming's eyes widened. Without a word, he bounced up from the bed, wrapped himself in a cotton-padded coat, grabbed the Hanyang-made rifle beside him, and charged out.
"Lock the doors and windows tight. Don't come out."
Once out of the dormitory, the cold wind poured into his collar, and the oncoming chill was biting. Qin Youming shrank his neck, gripping the rifle tightly. Without thinking, he moved toward the latrine with the same determination as if he were going to blow up a bunker, creeping forward.
Besides the ammunition he usually received from Platoon Leader Yang, his rifle was also loaded with a spare round, just in case.
Liu Dabiao had not returned for a long time, and coupled with that beastly roar, it was ninety percent likely he had encountered danger.
Don't let it be this unlucky.
He held his breath, stepping on the moonlight on the ground, and ran with his waist bent. In no time, he reached the latrine.
The night wind also brought the movements of others; presumably, the militia guarding the forestry farm had also heard that beastly roar but couldn't determine the direction for a moment.
"Liu Dabiao?"
Qin Youming was eager to save him and, disregarding everything else, crept into the latrine and called out softly.
But his voice was like a stone dropped into a well; he couldn't hear half a response.
By the moonlight, he quickly scanned every corner of the latrine until he saw a pool of dark red on the ground. His heart immediately sank to the bottom.
"Blood?"
Just as Qin Youming was startled and doubtful, a faint cry for help suddenly came from the latrine pit.
"Brother Qin, I'm here, save me!"
Qin Youming looked toward the sound and saw a head exposed in the latrine pit, voice choked with sobs, hands clutching the edge of the pit, covered in excrement and urine.
Seeing the person was still alive, he didn't care about the dirt and bent down to pull him out. But just as he bent down, he noticed that Liu Dabiao's face had changed at some point. His eyes were wide open, pupils darting wildly, staring straight above Qin Youming's head.
The corner of Qin Youming's eye twitched. He was just about to ask what madness had taken the kid when, before he could open his mouth, he felt a warmth on the back of his neck, as if something had dripped onto it. His heart jolted.
Damn it.
Liu Dabiao came to his senses at that moment, looking terrified and frantically signaling Qin Youming with his eyes.
Qin Youming lowered his gaze to look at the shadow on the ground. In the shadow cast by the eaves, it seemed something was perched up high, half-exposed, looking down at him.
As for the warm thing dripping on his neck, it was ninety percent likely that beast's saliva.
Something that can scale walls and walk over roofs—could it be a leopard? Or a lynx?
There was no time to think. Qin Youming's pupils shrank sharply. He saw that the black shadow had already pounced down silently, fast as lightning, soaring through the air like a flying creature. In an instant, he felt a gust of rancid, foul wind striking from behind his head. The hair all over his body stood on end, and he hurriedly rolled to the side.
While rolling, Qin Youming finally saw the true face of this thing.
Like a tiger but not a tiger, like a cat but not a cat, covered in black and yellow stripes, eyes glowing green, saliva dripping from its mouth.
"Yellow Tiger?"
It was actually a golden cat.
Also known colloquially as a "Biao."
Qin Youming was astonished in his heart, but before he could steady his stance, a cloud of cotton lint exploded from his chest, scattering in the wind.
The cotton-padded coat had been ripped open with a large gash.
This beast's claws were sharp.
In the midst of his shock, he felt a blur before his eyes and a gust of bloody wind rushing toward his face. A sharp claw went straight for his throat.
"Fuck you!"
In his shock and anger, Qin Youming realized it was too late to fire. He simply let go of the gun, dodged the claw sideways, and at the same time flung his coat, throwing it over the golden cat.
With its vision obstructed, the golden cat swiped empty-handed. Just as it was about to maneuver, a straight right leg swept out from under the coat, hitting it squarely in the waist and abdomen.
In a flash of lightning, two figures passed each other.
Qin Youming rolled out several meters, steadying himself on one knee. He slowly removed the tattered coat from his body, squinting at the vicious beast under the moonlight as it prepared to pounce again. He felt something warm flowing down his cheek and his heart tightened; in the end, he wasn't as fast as this beast.
Before he could catch his breath, the golden cat leaped to pounce again, its fangs bared, the fleshy spines on its
Qin Youming made a one-handed grab, using a military grappling technique. His hand formed a claw like an eagle's, intending to lock onto the beast's neck, but as they were tangled together and the vicious creature kept rolling and struggling, he could not exert his strength for a moment.
The two figures rolled and tumbled out a distance in a heap.
Seeing the beast beneath him about to break free, Qin Youming hardened his heart. He looped one arm around the golden cat's neck to lock it in place and, with the other hand, summoned all his strength to smash his fist down.
In the fierce struggle, man and beast were inseparable.
The golden cat clawed and bit, its thick tail lashing like an iron whip, emitting crisp paps.
Qin Youming was covered in blood, yet he refused to let go.
At this moment, he was startled, furious, and abnormally excited. Hot blood streamed down his face, and his body was racked with pain. Spurred by this adrenaline, his fists swung even faster and harder; before long, his knuckles were slick with blood.
It took a full five or six minutes of pounding before the crazed golden cat gradually ceased its struggles.
Qin Youming still dared not relax his grip. Amidst the rolling, he seized the opportunity to grab a jagged stump of wood and stabbed it viciously into the golden cat's belly several times. Only when the beast in his arms was completely motionless did he let out his breath and collapse, his strength spent.
With that release of tension, Qin Youming felt as if his very bones had fallen apart; his whole body burned with pain.
He lay under the moonlight, panting heavily. Glancing sideways, he saw the golden cat beside him bleeding from its mouth and nose, its head smashed into a blur of blood and flesh, with several holes in its belly through which its intestines had spilled out.
Just as he was about to catch his breath, Qin Youming felt a sudden chill run through his body. His gaze fixed upon an old tree branch a few steps away, where a pair of snow-bright, cruel eyes were looking down at him from above.
Even with its body concealed in shadow, the revealed outline of this creature was significantly larger than that of the golden cat.
By the moonlight, peering through the faint, dappled patterns, Qin Youming drew a sharp breath. It was actually an adult Northeast leopard.
"What is this situation? Why haven't those militiamen arrived yet?"
Qin Youming groaned inwardly. Before he could struggle, the leopard had already swooped down with a whoosh.
At this life-or-death juncture, how could Qin Youming resign himself to fate? Gripping the wooden stump, he prepared for a desperate fight.
But his strength was mostly spent, and he was covered in wounds. Before he could even raise his hand, the leopard was right before him. Its head hung low, eyes gleaming with a fierce light, jaws wide open, it pounced to kill.
It was over.
Smelling the scorching, bloody wind, Qin Youming felt a chill permeate his body, his eyes wide open in fury.
Just as he was about to have his neck bitten off and blood splatter the scene, who could have guessed that at this critical moment, another figure would suddenly appear behind the leopard.
The newcomer moved with vigorous strides, swift as an arrow leaving the string, yet made not a sound. Leaping and vaulting like a ghost, only at the instant of soaring into the air did he silently flash behind the leopard. His right hand shot out, fingers splayed like a dustpan, and pressed down.
He pressed down on the leopard's lower back.
Qin Youming stared wide-eyed. He saw the leopard's bright eyes visibly dim, and its body, carried forward by its pouncing momentum, fly out three or four meters like a kite with a cut string, crashing headfirst into a tree stump.
Just like that, it was dead.
The black shadow drifted to the ground, still making no sound.
Qin Youming saw clearly: the newcomer was none other than that black-robed old man.
The old man lowered his eyelids and grinned strangely. "The White Lotus Sect's beast-driving technique? Haven't seen that in years."
These words were not addressed to Qin Youming, but rather to the night, to the cold wind.
Qin Youming was horrified. From the old man's tone, it seemed these beasts had been driven here intentionally by someone.
And what the hell was the White Lotus Sect?
Wasn't that something that only existed in history books?
As if in response to his conjecture, two bangs of gunfire suddenly rang out from the other end of the tree farm, mixed with several beastly roars.
No wonder those militiamen hadn't made it over in time; they were likely tied up.
Over here, the black-robed old man had just finished speaking. His originally hunched body moved abruptly, like a wraith under the moonlight. His footwork appeared ordinary, yet a single step carried him four or five meters—truly shocking to the world.
Qin Youming lay on the ground, his hands and feet ice-cold. He saw that as the old man took a step forward, another black shadow emerged from the moonlight behind him. Dressed in night clothes, it drifted away, retreating without a fight.
Well then, there was someone else hiding in the shadows.
Qin Youming was greatly shaken.
The black-robed old man did not give chase. He turned back to look.
Qin Youming started and quickly closed his eyes, feigning unconsciousness.
The old man was not buying it. He said indifferently, "Kid, where did you learn that Eagle Claw move just now? It's absolute rubbish; you're disgracing your ancestors' legacy."
It turned out that earlier, when grappling the golden cat, Qin Youming had subconsciously used a move from the Eagle Claw technique. But he hadn't learned it formally; he had seen someone else perform it with his own eyes and figured it out in secret. In his tension just now, he had used it alongside his grappling technique.
Qin Youming flushed with embarrassment. Just as he was about to speak, he opened his eyes and looked—under the bright moonlight, there was no trace of the old man.
"Why are these people so elusive and ghostly?"
Muttering a couple of sentences, he suddenly remembered something. He hurriedly scrambled up from the ground, first rushed into the latrine, grabbed Liu Dabiao's arm, and used all his strength to yank him out of the cesspit. Only then did he walk quickly out of the latrine.