A Prophet - Chapter 1 (Part 3)

Chapter 3 - Faction Legends

Grandfather had seven capable assistants under his command, each possessing their own unique skills.

First, let us speak of the First Regional Boss. Grandfather recruited him into the faction in the thirteenth year of the Republic, which was precisely the second year after Grandfather took charge of the faction. The First Regional Boss was the faction's premier hitman; killing people, butchering dogs, and slaughtering pigs were all tasks he handled. He was the one among the current regional bosses who had followed Grandfather for the longest time. He looked extremely ferocious, plump, and wore a shaved bald head. He suffered from scurf on his scalp, which would itch whenever his hair grew out, so he never kept any hair. He shaved it every few days until it shone brilliantly. Every time the faction held a meeting, his head would be covered in sweat, making him look as though he were terribly hot. Grandfather recruited him into the faction in the thirteenth year of the Republic, which was precisely the second year after Grandfather took charge of the faction. Before joining the faction, the First Regional Boss was a butcher, running errands for a butcher in the street. One day after finishing work, the butcher gave him two pounds of smoked meat. Unexpectedly, on his way, he ran into a few thugs who insisted on snatching the smoked meat from his hands. The First Regional Boss refused to give it up, and they forced the issue, whereupon the First Regional Boss flew into a rage. A real fight is not like the graceful moves depicted in martial arts novels; when a real fight starts, you use whatever is at hand, whatever is most practical. The First Regional Boss first crushed one man's testicles, then gouged out another man's eyes with his fingers, biting and tearing, and finally smashed open a third man's head with a brick. As a result, the First Regional Boss was sentenced to death. This matter created a great stir at the time. When Grandfather heard about it, he felt this person was prime material, so he spent a large sum of money to redeem him and put him to use. Grandfather indeed possessed an eye for recognizing talent, and the First Regional Boss did not disappoint Grandfather's expectations. After joining the faction, he was daring and willing to fight. When a gang came to make trouble, he was always the first to charge forward, never blinking an eye when stabbing someone with a knife! There is simply a class of people in this world who get excited at the sight of blood, and the First Regional Boss belonged to this category. For so many years, he remained utterly loyal to Grandfather, and just like the Second Regional Boss, they belonged to Grandfather's personal guard. If the First Regional Boss was someone who grew excited at the sight of blood, then the Second Regional Boss was someone who grew excited at the sight of dead bodies.

The Second Regional Boss was a legend. He followed Grandfather at the age of fifteen. He was extremely daring and would do anything. In particular, he played the "Zhafei technique" with sheer mastery. "Zhafei" is underworld slang in the Abao circle, meaning playing at ghosts and gods. The more superstitious the common people were, the more a market "Zhafei" had.

That was in 1928, right on the eve of the Second Northern Expedition. Many regions in Jiangnan were rife with terrifying rumors of an "evil woman capturing souls." The rumors spread from Nanjing, claiming that a small boy was playing with his companions in the street when a woman walked over, patted the child on the head a few times, and turned away. As a result, the child immediately turned pale, his limbs stiffened, his eyes became vacant and unblinking, and he stopped speaking, having lost his soul right then and there. This rumor quickly blanketed the entire city of Nanjing and later spread to other regions. Consequently, many parents worried that their children's souls would be hooked away by the evil woman, and they rushed to tie red strings on their children or slip peach tree leaves into their pockets to ward off evil. Later, rumors spread that the evil woman did not even spare adults, so adults likewise rushed to tie red waistbands, and eventually even cut up women's menstrual cloths into pieces and placed them in every pocket, terrified that their souls would be hooked away by the evil woman.

Grandfather happened to be able to exploit this opportune moment to make a fortune under the pretext of exorcising demons and summoning souls. One day, Grandfather was walking down the street when a young boy crashed straight into him. Grandfather saw at a glance that he was a petty thief, and with two or three swift movements, he twisted the kid's arm. Grandfather said, "At such a young age, you're already doing this! Careful I don't hand you over to the evil woman and have your soul captured!" The kid hardened his face: "I'm not scared at all!" Grandfather looked him over carefully and saw that indeed there were no red strings tied anywhere on his body. Grandfather smiled and said, "Aren't you afraid of death?" The kid said, "Ghosts believe that!" Grandfather grew rather fond of this fellow and asked, "Why steal wallets?" The kid tilted his neck: "Hungry!" Grandfather released his grip, patted his head, and said, "Come with me." The kid said, "What for? Are you handing me over to the evil woman?" Grandfather gave him a swat: "To eat!" Grandfather stopped at a street wonton stall and bought him a bowl of wontons. The kid wolfed it down in two or three bites, so he bought him another bowl, which he finished off just as quickly. Grandfather smiled: "How many more bowls can you eat?" The kid said, "If you can afford to buy them, I can manage to eat them." Grandfather waved his hand and said, "Fine! Proprietor, bring ten bowls!" The kid loosened his waistband and began eating like a madman, finishing twelve bowls in total. Grandfather smiled, knowing this was a man of talent! Later on, he learned that the kid's parents had died early and he had wandered the streets since the age of eight, so Grandfather intended to keep and employ him. Years later, he became the renowned Second Regional Boss of the Abao circle. Grandfather's eyes were truly venomous—venomous in the way he could see through a person's intrinsic value at a single glance. Grandfather had taken a fancy to the Second Regional Boss's daring. When he first followed Grandfather, the Second Regional Boss was unruly and difficult to discipline; turning a street-urchin thief accustomed to unbridled freedom into a disciplined Abao was no easy task. Grandfather beat him plenty of times, but he wouldn't cry, acting as though the person being beaten wasn't him at all. Finally, at his wits' end, Grandfather said, "Get lost!" Only then did he start to soften, because leaving Grandfather meant he would have nothing to eat. Eventually, the Second Regional Boss gradually submitted to Grandfather because Grandfather was a myriad times smarter than him—every time he was about to open his mouth, Grandfather already knew what kind of fart he was about to release. The Second Regional Boss was extremely daring and would do anything. In particular, he played the "Zhafei technique" with sheer mastery. "Zhafei" is underworld slang in the Abao circle, meaning playing at ghosts and gods. The more superstitious the common people were, the more a market "Zhafei" had. Before formally engaging in "Zhafei," Grandfather had intentionally tested his courage.

Grandfather told him: "Didn't you say you aren't afraid of ghosts? I heard that a beggar starved to death in the ruined temple three li outside the city. Tonight, go strip off his clothes and bring them back to me." The Second Regional Boss said, "What's difficult about this? It's not like I haven't done things like this before; back when it was freezing cold and I couldn't bear it, I even stripped burial robes off people who had just been buried." With that, he turned to set off. Grandfather said, "Wait a moment. I heard that people who starve to death turn into hungry ghosts after dying. At the midnight hour, they will still open their mouths to eat. I don't know if it's true or false. You go and take a bowl of rice, feed that beggar, and see if his mouth opens." The Second Regional Boss laughed: "Talking sheer nonsense. There's no such thing!" That night, a hazy moonlight blanketed the old city. The Second Regional Boss wrapped a small bowl of rice in a piece of cloth, tucked it at his waist, and set off stepping through the moonlight. That was a mountain god temple that had long been abandoned; the wooden door had several holes broken into it, and the Second Regional Boss walked for a full hour before reaching the place. All around was dead quiet, broken only by the occasional chirping of crickets.

The Second Regional Boss steadied his nerves and pushed the door. The door was broken; with an extra shove, the door creaked open, and a reek of corpse gas rushed straight toward his face. When a person dies, their body emits a special odor, commonly known as corpse gas. This smell is very peculiar—sweet yet fishy, and it carries a very long distance, which is why crows can always find them. Groping in the dark, the Second Regional Boss found the corpse and, aided by the sliver of moonlight coming through the door crack, began stripping off the clothes. Suddenly, he remembered the bowl of rice at his waist, hurriedly untied the cloth wrap, took it out, scooped up a handful of rice with his hand, and stuffed it near the corpse's mouth, thinking to himself: "It'll be a miracle if you can actually eat!" Unexpectedly, the corpse's mouth really did open—it opened slowly and even let out an "eh" sound. The Second Regional Boss suspected his eyes were playing tricks on him and blinked hard; it truly had opened. Trembling, the Second Regional Boss stuffed the rice into the corpse's mouth, and the corpse slowly began to chew. The Second Regional Boss was dumbfounded, his scalp tingling with numbness, as he watched the corpse finish chewing the rice, swallow it with a gulp, and with another "eh," open its mouth again. The Second Regional Boss went mad. "Go fuck your mother!" He directly smashed the bowl right against the corpse's mouth and face! With a sudden bound, the corpse sat straight up and let out a blood-curdling roar. Turning on his heel, the Second Regional Boss ran for his life, sprinting back into the city in a single breath. Grandfather was waiting for him, and seeing him return covered in sweat, asked, "Where are the clothes?" Out of breath, the Second Regional Boss said, "It's ruined, it's ruined, I ran into a real one! It ate, it really ate—" Grandfather laughed heartily and said, "Since it ate, you should feed it! He starved to death, and feeding him is also accumulating merit." The Second Regional Boss said, "It was too bizarre! I saw it open its mouth to eat, so I smashed the bowl onto its face, and it actually sat right up—" Grandfather was stunned: "You smashed it on its face?" The Second Regional Boss said, "Yeah, I ran as soon as I smashed it." Grandfather said, "You'll find out in a moment." About half an hour later, the First Regional Boss walked in from outside, his face covered in blood. The Second Regional Boss was startled: "Eldest Senior Brother, what happened to you?" The First Regional Boss burned with rage: "You still have the nerve to ask! That bastard hit way too hard!" Grandfather smiled: "Go wash up quickly."

This was a setup. That starved beggar was actually played by the First Regional Boss in disguise; the real dead body had already been moved away by the First Regional Boss. But nobody expected that the Second Regional Boss would fly into a rage from the shock and directly smash the First Regional Boss. From then on, a deep scar remained on the First Regional Boss's face, yet Grandfather grew increasingly satisfied with the Second Regional Boss.

Compared to the First and Second Regional Bosses, the Third Regional Boss could be considered a refined, scholarly type of Abao. There was no topic of astronomy, geography, Yin-Yang, or the Eight Trigrams that he did not know; he was also well-read in the Analects and Mencius, fluent in his speech and elegant in his literary style. This kind of sanctimonious wolf draped in human skin was the most terrifying kind. The Third Regional Boss followed Grandfather in 1930. Prior to that, he was a rural fortune-telling scammer who understood some theory and excelled at cheating. One day, he came into the city to ply his scams and ate his way into Grandfather's territory, actually daring to set up a stall on the street to tell fortunes! The First Regional Boss suggested to Grandfather that he slice him, but Grandfather said, "Let's wait and see."

Grandfather sent a few men to probe his depth, and the little feet came back reporting that this kid cheated skillfully and the common people were all taken in. Grandfather decided to go meet him in person. Arriving at his stall, Grandfather saw that the man was only in his early twenties, a fair-faced scholar wearing a long gown, carrying himself with great poise, and rattling off divinations like a flowing river. Grandfather intentionally left him loopholes to let him cheat, and the kid, thinking he had encountered a plump roe deer, rambled on endlessly about toads and water dragons. Grandfather nodded repeatedly, and finally gave him a few silver dollars, saying, "I don't have much silver on me today. Come home with me to collect it, and while you're there, take a look at my residence, adjust the feng shui, and I will surely reward you handsomely!" The Third Regional Boss hurriedly packed up his stall and cheerfully followed Grandfather home. The outcome can be imagined: the moment he stepped through the door, he was bound by several little feet, and the First Regional Boss walked right up and slapped him across the face: "You motherfucker don't even look for a place to shit!" The Third Regional Boss was slapped until stars danced before his eyes, but he knew in his heart that he must absolutely never admit to being a scammer. He said dejectedly, "Why is the master doing this? I am merely a humble fortune-teller, coming to your esteemed territory just to earn a bite to eat. I know not how I have offended you venerable sir!" The Second Regional Boss, standing nearby, finally lost his patience, marched over and kicked him, then slapped the back of his head with rapid smacks: "Are you still going to put on an act! Are you going to keep playing dumb with my boss?!" Tears streaming down his face, the Third Regional Boss said, "Spare my life, old master! I am just a fortune-teller; if my divination isn't accurate, I'll refund the money, please don't hit me old master! Up above I have a seventy-year-old mother, and down below a three-year-old child!" The Second Regional Boss exchanged a glance with the First Regional Boss, who drew the butcher knife from his waist and walked right up to the Third Regional Boss: "I'll slice off your tongue right now, let's see you put on an act then!" Weeping, the Third Regional Boss shouted to Grandfather: "Esteemed master, say something! Wasn't my divination for you accurate just now? It was all going fine, master!" Grandfather waved a hand, and the First Regional Boss retreated to the side with his blade. Grandfather walked up in front of the Third Regional Boss, extended his thumb, and said, "Brother, you've got real guts!" The Third Regional Boss was startled: "What guts, master?" Grandfather nodded and said, "A man of talent." The Third Regional Boss continued to play dumb: "Master, are you speaking of me? I'm just a humble fortune-teller—" Grandfather flicked his hand, and a flying nail shot out, striking dead center in the Third Regional Boss's left ear. Instantly, the ear was pierced through, and a small piece of flesh on the earlobe was blasted away. The Third Regional Boss yelled in agony: "Master, I'll talk! I'll talk!" Grandfather let out a thunderous shout: "What's your alias?" "Biansha Ren!" "Where is your origin?" "Peixian County, Xuzhou!" "Who is your grandmaster?" "Ding-shui Fengzi!" "How long have you practiced?" "Wang!" "Have you slaughtered a party?" "I dare not!" The First Regional Boss and Second Regional Boss saw at once that Grandfather was still the most formidable, subduing this kid in just a few moves. This entire exchange of questions and answers consisted of underworld slang from the Abao circle. "Alias" asks what his real name is, "origin" asks where he is from, "grandmaster" asks who his leader is, "Ding-shui Fengzi" means unorganized and roaming in criminal operations, "practiced" asks how many years he has been in this trade, "Wang" means the number "three," and "slaughtered a party" asks whether he has ever killed anyone. Grandfather had taken a liking to his eloquence and daring, and especially his posturing, unyielding refusal to confess—traits that made Grandfather feel this person was indispensable.

Compared to the first three regional bosses, the Fourth Regional Boss always gave off a taciturn vibe and disliked talking, but he was the faction's "technical strategist," or in modern terms, a STEM talent. Before setting up a scam—especially a major "Zhafei" scam—he was the one who prepared all the props. He could mix cinnabar and yellow phosphorus in precise proportions, and using this concoction to draw talismans allowed them to glow in the dark. He could mix alum into bizarre medicinal water, and writing words on paper with a brush dipped in this water left nothing visible afterwards; then, by applying fire, the paper would darken and the handwriting would appear.

The Fifth Regional Boss belonged to the same category as the Third Regional Boss, being another scholarly Abao. His greatest capability was being able to map out the nation's dragon veins (mountain ranges) without a single error. Before every feng shui scam, wherever Grandfather asked about, he could answer, laying a solid theoretical foundation for every feng shui operation of the faction.

The Sixth Regional Boss was known as the Wind Hound. "Wind hound" is underworld slang meaning a horse. It is said that this nickname was given to him by Grandfather because the Sixth Regional Boss possessed excellent lightness skills. On ordinary days, he was responsible for contacting informants, public relations in the underworld, and scouting locations before setting up a scam, running tirelessly like a horse, hence earning this elegant moniker. The Wind Hound possessed formidable martial arts, specializing in lightness skills and Ancestral Crane Boxing. Speaking of lightness skills, they weren't actually as miraculous as legends claim—such as "bounding two or three li in a single leap, rising four or five zhang off the ground"—that's Sun Wukong, not a human. Anyone who is human has weight and must obey gravity. So-called lightness skills actually mean having quicker footwork, running faster, and scaling walls and trees more nimbly than the average person. The common method of training was to strap sandbags to one's legs, then persist in running every day or jumping up from a small pit. As the weight of the sandbags increased, a person's load-bearing capacity grew stronger and stronger. After bitterly training like this for several years, once the sandbags were removed, one's legs felt as though a heavy burden had been lifted; running gave the sensation of wind beneath the feet, and the whole person felt remarkably light. In the "Seventy-Two Arts of Shaolin," there are specialized records on training methods for lightness skills. The Wind Hound's lightness skills were indeed exceptional; a wall over two zhang high—he would channel strength into his soles, take a running start, glide his toe across the surface of the wall, exert pulling force with his hands, lift both feet in succession, and vault right over with a swift whoosh. Furthermore, he modified his family's hereditary Ancestral Crane Boxing, infusing it with the hard fierceness of Hong Boxing. Grandfather often said that the Wind Hound was a martial arts prodigy. The Wind Hound was born in the tenth year of the Republic, and his uncle was a backbone member of Wang Jingwei's Axe Gang. According to the Second Regional Boss, the Wind Hound was only fourteen years old when he followed Grandfather, and Grandfather recruited him into the faction because he valued the social connections behind him.

The final regional boss was the Seventh Regional Boss, who also had a nickname—"Immortal Hand." He entered the trade late and had the least seniority among all the regional bosses. Previously, he was a little foot under the Second Regional Boss. Because of his ruthlessness and superb Zhafei skills, just before I entered the trade in 1948, he had just been recommended by the Second Regional Boss to become the faction's Seventh Regional Boss. The "Immortal Hand" looked sneaky and rat-faced, his eyeballs darting around in circles whenever he looked at people.

These regional bosses were all formidable, deserving to be called dragons and phoenixes among men, but you must not forget that they all bowed submissively to Grandfather. You can well imagine just how formidable Grandfather truly was.