If You're Going To Do It, Do It Properly

Duho and the Red Headband Hall’s crew, dressed as bandits, hauled the carts along the forest track. They walked a good while to the rattle of the wheels before a broad clearing opened out ahead of them.

“We stop here.”

At Duho’s word the Red Headband Hall halted where they stood. A moment later a body of men showed themselves, among them the Great Saber Gang lieutenant he had seen last time, at their meeting with the gang’s leader.

The lieutenant came over to Duho wearing a satisfied smile. A brute who looked every inch the mountain bandit himself, he was Black Leopard’s right hand and the man in overall charge of this medicine raid.

“Quicker than I expected, eh?”
“It was nothing much, just as the Boss said it would be. We surrounded them, put a bit of fear into them, and they handed the carts straight over.”
“Even so, that’s fine work for a first job. The masks, the way you move your boys — none of it’s the ordinary sort.”

Of course it isn’t. How many years do you think I’ve fed myself by thieving?

Duho sneered inwardly. When it came to robbery, at least, he prided himself on standing a cut above the leader of the Great Saber Gang. He kept his thoughts off his face and spoke up smoothly.

“Thank you kindly. Odd little tricks like this happen to be my specialty. I hope you’ll take me in hand and set me right from here on.”
“You’ve a way with words, too. I like you. Don’t fret about finding your footing inside the gang — I’ll see to that myself. Now then, shall we have a look at the goods?”
“Of course. Lads — get the crates open.”

At Duho’s order the Red Headband Hall’s men opened the crates loaded on the carts. Inside, the medicine lay carefully wrapped and packed to the brim. The lieutenant lifted one out and sniffed at it, and when the faintly bitter smell of herbs came up he nodded, satisfied.

“They say this stuff works wonders. Have you ever used it?”
“No. I’ve only ever heard the talk — this is the first time I’ve laid eyes on it.”
“When I made inquiries about getting hold of some, they told me only the Shandong Escort Bureau sells it. Never thought I’d come by a whole crate of it.”

Duho leaned his face in close at that, made a show of checking who might be watching, and dropped his voice to a whisper.

“Which is why I set a share aside for you, sir.”
“My share?”
“Bring it.”

At Duho’s word one of his men brought over a pouch, which Duho passed to the lieutenant. The weight of it registered the moment it touched the lieutenant’s hand. He opened it up to find it packed with medicine, comfortably past ten even at a rough count, and his mouth stretched from ear to ear.

“Well, sir? Does it suit?”
“Haha! Suit me? I should say so! You’re a real find, you are. I took you for a man who was only good with his hands, but you know how to get on in the world as well. Any time you’re in trouble from here on, come and find me.”
“Thank you, Brother!”

The lieutenant clapped Duho on the shoulder, pleased with himself, and said,

“Off you go now, little brother. We’ll carry it from here ourselves.”
“Understood. We’ll take our leave, then. Put a good word in for us with the Boss.”
“Naturally! Don’t you worry. You’ve earned it — go and have a drink with your boys. When the chance comes I’ll lay on a proper spread for us.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll leave you to it.”

Duho made his farewells, gathered his men and disappeared. Only when the party was well out of sight did the lieutenant give his own men their orders.

“Take the carts. We’re heading for the storehouse.”
“Yes, sir!”

The men set to hauling the carts, and behind them a single man followed in secret.

The lieutenant took the carts deep in along the mountain track, the smile never leaving his face.

They say this stuff works wonders, don’t they? Keep back half and sell it quietly, and there’d be real money in it.

The heavy pouch inside his robe was a comfort. For a good while yet, it seemed, he could wander in and out of the pleasure houses as though they were his own front room.

He was still steeped in the happy daydream when his bladder sent up a signal. Raising a hand, he brought the party to a halt.

“Hold up. Stop a moment.”
“Is something the matter, sir?”
“I’m off to water the trees. Wait here a bit.”
“Yes, sir.”

The moment he vanished into the trees the men gathered in threes and fours and started up their chatter. Trailing behind them, Duho did not miss the opening.

Now.

Muffling his footsteps, Duho crept up to the very back of the carts. He opened the empty crate he had prepared beforehand, folded himself into it and pulled the lid shut.

A little later he heard the lieutenant’s voice, back from the trees.

“Move out again!”

The carts rattled into motion once more. Shut in the crate while it rolled on without a break, he was just beginning to stiffen all over when a voice came from outside.

“Store the crates in the storehouse. It’s valuable stock, so mind it properly and let nothing go wrong. I’m off to make my report to the Boss.”
“Yes, sir!”

On the lieutenant’s order the men set busily to shifting the crates. Then the turn came for the last one, the crate Duho was folded into.

“Ugh — why’s this one so heavy?”
“Never mind that, take a proper hold. Put your back into it.”

Grumbling all the way, the men carried it into the storehouse.

— Creeeak.

The storehouse door shut, and every sign of anyone alive went with it. Inside, the quiet ran so deep that all he could hear were the insects and a torch burning.

— Clunk.

Duho eased the lid aside and put his head out. He waited a while longer in the crate in case of trouble, and when nothing stirred he climbed out.

“Ohhh…”

He looked around the storehouse and let out a small sound of wonder. Silk, precious metals and weapons of every kind stood piled up in mountains, a staggering amount of treasure even at a glance.

This bastard’s done his share of wickedness and then some.

He had made his own living by robbery, but he had always kept to a line that would not break a merchant company’s back. Nobody piled up this much without squeezing the lifeblood out of ordinary people. He could guess well enough now what sort of man Black Leopard was.

He’ll be weeping tears of blood tonight, and no mistake.

He pictured the man howling, and the corners of his mouth went up.

Duho muffled his footsteps again and put his ear to the storehouse door. Not a sound came from outside, so he eased it open. As luck had it the guard was nowhere in sight; he seemed to have gone off somewhere. Nothing could have suited Duho better.

He opened the crate that held the medicine and cleared away the packets laid neatly across the top to find straw packed beneath them, and in the same moment a sharp smell of oil came rushing up his nose.

“Yang Mujin, that bastard… He really is a lunatic.”

A hollow laugh escaped him. The crate was full to the lid with bundles of straw soaked through with oil.

He remembered what Yang Mujin had said when they found out the Great Saber Gang meant to rob the medicine.

Once they’ve taken the medicine, they’re bound to move it to the storehouse where they keep their valuables. You trail them, hide yourself in an empty crate, and ride in with it.

The guess had hit the mark dead on, and thanks to it Duho had walked all the way into the treasure storehouse at the Great Saber Gang’s heart without a drop of blood spilled.

And then there was Mujin’s last instruction.

Once you’re inside, burn it. We’ll take the price of the medicine out of what’s in there.

So that was why Yang Mujin had given the medicine up so meekly. Hand over a few crates of it and blow the whole hoard away in exchange: that was the arithmetic.

Ruthless. And not by any ordinary measure, either.

Then again, when he thought back to the Bound-Hand Duel and the beating he had taken there without so much as a chance to surrender, the man was a demon come up out of hell, no question.

Shaking his head, Duho carried the crates of oiled straw to spots all through the storehouse. He set them beside the bales of silk that would catch fast, against the stacks of bone-dry timber, and out through the middle and into the corners, so that the whole place would burn evenly.

Once every crate was in place, he drew a pair of flame sticks from inside his robe¹, one for each hand, pulled the caps off and blew. Flame leapt up.

— Hssk! Hsssssk!

He could picture the misery on the face of the leader of the Great Saber Gang as the man gulped wine straight from the jar to settle his burning gut.

“Here — just put it down to crossing the wrong lunatic.”

Without a moment’s hesitation Duho threw the burning flame sticks onto the crates at either end.

— Fwoosh! Fwoo-oosh!

The oil-soaked straw went up. The flames roared up and caught the rest of the treasure in an instant, and the air inside the storehouse turned scorching. Duho pulled his mask up tight over his nose and mouth.

Acrid smoke began to fill the storehouse from the ceiling down, but he did not move at once, waiting until the fire had gone past the straw and taken firm hold of the goods themselves. It did not take long, with the fire racing through the oiled crates at a terrifying speed.

A fire this far gone — water or earth will never put it out.

Duho nodded, satisfied. Nobody could stop it now.

He kicked the storehouse door open, ran out, and shouted at the top of his voice.

“Fire! Fire! The storehouse is on fire!”

The instant Duho’s shout rang out, startled voices burst up from every direction.

“What? Fire? Where?!”
“The storehouse! The storehouse is on fire!”

The Great Saber Gang’s men came swarming to the front of the storehouse. One look at the black smoke pouring from the gaps in the door and the blood-red blaze behind it, and every face went white in a moment.

“Hey! Get water! Quick!”
“Throw dirt on it, anything! Now!”

Men came running with buckets and flung water at the flames. Far from going out, the fire only blazed the higher. They did not know it, but no single bucket of water was ever going to kill a fire set in oil-soaked straw.

“It’s not going out!”
“Why’s it getting bigger?!”
“There isn’t enough water! Bring more!”
“Never mind water, pour dirt on it too!”

They hauled water and earth for all they were worth, but it was nowhere near enough for a fire that had spread through the whole storehouse. With every moment that passed the blaze only grew fiercer.

“Do something, anything!”
“If we can’t put this out we’re all dead! You think the Boss will let it pass?”
“Faster! Put it out, faster!”

The men shouted and drove one another on. Gripped by the terror of dying at Black Leopard’s hands if the fire was not put out, they kept at it grimly, but no amount of that would quench this fire; the flames had already swallowed the storehouse and were reaching into the building beside it.

While the gang rushed about out of their wits, Duho slipped quietly away. Up on top of the wall he turned and looked back. A vast tongue of flame punched through the storehouse roof and lit the night up like day.

“That bastard Black Leopard. He won’t be getting any sleep tonight.”

Humming to himself, Duho went over the wall. Watching the flames shrink behind him, he thought of Yang Mujin’s face.

He really is a frightening bastard.

Mujin had deliberately let the medicine be taken exactly as the enemy planned it, to put them off their guard, and then turned the same thing round to make their whole hoard worthless. The astonishing part was that he had thought the entire scheme up the moment the leader of the Great Saber Gang told him to go and rob the medicine, in less time than it takes to eat a meal.

Thank God I’m on that bastard’s side.

Knowing he stood on the same side as Yang Mujin sent a wave of relief through him. Getting beaten half to death at the Bound-Hand Duel and having it over and done with began to look like a piece of luck, because Black Leopard was going to come off far worse than he had.

No, he was already getting it, wasn’t he?

Duho shuddered before he knew he was doing it.

“Ugh — that gives me the creeps.”

Rubbing at his arms, Duho vanished smartly into the dark.

The great blaze burned on, as though it meant to swallow even the darkness.