With my two companions, Lin Feng and Yuan Chongxi, and Aunt Fen’s six ghostly Sisters, I set off on a journey into Inner Mongolia; the trip, disguised as a travel tour, was in fact a crusade to investigate and eradicate the remnants of an evil cult, the Creed of the Eight Trigrams.

Little did we realize that this was an elaborate ruse to lure me into a trap! Not only did the mastermind of the whole episode, a man called Zheng Tong, harbored hatred towards us three; moreover, he had a father called Zheng Haoshan, whom my father had slain for the atrocities he had committed many years ago. Zheng Haoshan joined the Creed and became the Seventh of the Thirteen Apostles of the diabolical order. He was hell-bent on enacting vengeance on me, having armed himself in a surplus of druidic and mediumistic sorcery in addition to shamanistic venomous curses that had caused us a string of troubles.

During the course of our adventures, we encountered a former “paramour” of my father’s, a woman called Ulan, whom I promptly acknowledged as my godmother. With her a band of her henchwomen, we hunted and finally caught Zheng Tong, shooting him to death in the end. But we did not realize that it was hardly the end of our adventures in the north, but merely the turn of a page, as we found out that another band of brigands, consisting of more than a hundred men, were galloping menacingly towards us, with the intent of laying waste to the Black Dragon Keep where we now took refuge.

The advancing company of robbers and plunderers were under the impression that the defenses of the Keep were badly undermanned, I noticed, for they rode up to the slopes towards the portcullis of our fort brashly. They stopped before the gates and dismounted, slowly walking up the rest of the journey. I waited until they were close and gave the signal to fire. A string of gunfire erupted as everyone fired their rifles and the machine guns at the arrowslits of the ramparts disgorged a flurry of lead that reduced the invading army into shreds. The enemies were surprised by our ambush and more than half of their number were lost in only the first skirmish! With their mouths belching foul words of curse and profanity, the two Apostles led their company in an ignominious retreat and regrouped at the foot of the hill. I hissed instructions to the rest of the henchwomen, urging them to not fire unless needed to. We had to first observe and watch and adopt a careful defensive approach.

At the foot of the slope, the two Apostles did a headcount and realized the hefty loss they suffered. Driven to rage by the deaths of their men, they were set on maintaining the siege. But the blood vendetta was hardly enough to overcome their fear of our firepower. There they remained, dawdling with indecision at the bottom of the hill, without knowing what to do. I had expressly ordered everyone to refrain from firing their weapons to maintain the facade that we were having strong firepower despite being outnumbered. Without proper experience in battle and warfare, the brigands would never be able to truly divine our strength. But our resistance was enough to hold them at bay, at least while we waited for reinforcements. The two Apostles might even be cursing the Seventh for the wrong intelligence, I mused. The siege was now at a standstill, with neither side eager to make the first move. To the Apostles’ and the brigands’ dismay, what should have been a quick and decisive blitzkrieg had turned into a battle of attrition! Our wait endured until noon, when lookouts at the parapets reported of dust clouds rising on the horizon. Aunt Ulan’s reinforcements had arrived! But their arrival was also noticed by the Apostles; a sentry had alerted them to the coming of more enemies and, quickly, the company of marauders broke camp and galloped away hastily.

Aunt Ulan was leading the charge when she rode through the portcullis of the fort. “Did you prepare the things as I asked you to, Godmother?” I asked as she leaped off her horse. She gave a curt nod and muttered a “Yes”. “But I do not understand,” it was her turn to ask, “Warhorses are always strong stallions capable of traveling fast and far. Why do you need a lactating mare?” Her remark made me giggle. “Do you know why Genghis Khan was so victorious whenever he fought, Godmother?” I asked, “His horses. I have noticed that the brigands were all using horses of Western breeds earlier. Their horses have great acceleration, allowing them to traverse great distances in a short time! But this is also the weakness of Western horse breeds; they function well only in short and quick skirmishes, but they are less useful with their poor stamina in battles that require endurance! Heh heh heh!”

With my advice, Aunt Ulan instructed everyone to immediately eat and bring adequate rations of water. The chase would begin soon!

I released my spirit eagle and we followed closely behind as our hunt for the Apostles began. For two hours we rode, finally, we found the company of brigands resting from afar. With blinding speed we swooped upon them, firing our weapons as we charged at our unwary foes. Our enemies scrambled to their feet and clambered up their horses, although many of their number fell. In a flash, they were gone, leaving the corpses of a good many of their comrades behind.

We made camp that night, and carried on with our pursuit at first light. For miles and miles, we chased behind the company of brigands. But they seemed to be afraid of leading us to their stronghold, making endless circles on the spanless prairies, hoping to wear us out. Gradually, I noticed that the brigands fire their weapons more and more sporadically. This could mean that they were running short on ammunition, I realized. I kept a close eye on the remaining force they still had as our side managed to reduce their number at every skirmish and the brigands, now beginning to weaken, had to leave their dead behind. By the third day of our hunt, many of the bandits began collapsing from their horses; their steeds, now wearied and spent, could hardly gallop further!

Although lactating Mongolian mares did not have the explosive speeds that Western breeds often boasted of, they were more able to travel at great distances with their stronger hardiness and excellent stamina. Moreover, the Mongolian mares could also be used as milk animals to satisfy our hunger, eliminating our need for a supply line. The enemy came unprepared; they had initially believed this to be a short but victorious assault, hence they came with no supplies and ration, putting themselves in a severe disadvantage that we ultimately exploited to the fullest. The Eight and the Ninth Apostle fight to the end; when they were finally surrounded, they hid behind their horses and put up a last stand so gritting and valiant that we could not approach them without risk being wounded ourselves. We peppered rounds and rounds of machine gunfire around them, forcing them into cover and I released Xiao Qi and the Sisters. They flew behind the enemy’s lines and possessed the two Apostles, forcing them to crawl out of hiding. The two Apostles were shot like dogs, as the henchwomen that came with us fired their weapons without mercy, emptying their ammunition into the two villains like target practice. When our work was done, I took out my Spirit Gourd; I had been collecting as many of the brigands’ souls as possible, and this was the final bunch available.

But when Xiao Qi and the Sisters returned, I was being pelted by projectiles of another form: curses and angry admonishments; they were angry for the pain they felt when the villains were being fired open when the Sisters were still possessing them. But the manner of their own deaths was many times more agonizing and gruesome compared to these two men, I thought sourly as they continued venting their annoyance.

We took no part in the closing stages of the strife between the warring factions of brigands in Mongolia later after the final battle. Aunt Ulan took her henchwomen with her, sweeping the strongholds of two dead Apostles. She pillaged and plundered what she could and effectively solidifying her dominance across the lush wilderness of Mongolia. But we, on the other hand, had other obligations: a report to Tao Gang and his superior, Deputy Director Zhao. We contacted them and gave them a lengthy report about the fates of Zheng Tong, and the two Apostles, masking the entire conflict as simple bloodshed between different blocs of belligerent brigands and highwaymen, sparing them both of the intrigues and mysteries that might baffle their mundane minds. This was also to spare any more trouble for my godmother and me, who could be implicated as a purported accomplice or worst, an adjunct ringleader of a band of Amazonian highwaywomen. What was more, both Yuan Chongxi and I were still hardly over the fact that we have killed. It was a peace that we would have to seek on our own while making our own penance.

But Deputy Director Zhao and Tao Gang were not fools nonetheless; they obviously noticed that the bloody battles waging in the Mongolian wilderness were definitely more than mere conflicts driven by greed and desires. Still, they knew what we were capable of; they made no more inquiry into the matter, more than happy to see that placidity had returned somehow, at least for now. When we showed them the scenes of our battles when they came a few days later, they knew better than to delve further, only expressing their surprise and amazement at our abilities. Even the matter of the whereabouts of the remaining plunder and horses of the dead brigands were conveniently left out of the conversation.

I would leave the discretion of how their reports were to be properly furnished to the two officers. We packed our things and returned our rented car before making ready for our flight back to Beijing. Word later came that the Deputy Director had wanted to send us off at the airport, but he slipped away when he saw the fearsome contingent of Aunt Ulan and her girls when they came to our departure at the airport. At the gates, Aunt Ulan held my hand tearfully. “Do not forget to come see me when you’re free, Son…” Aunt Ulan was reluctant to see me leave, I knew. To have a son after so many years she kept single, yet she has to send him off after only a few days of reunion. We hugged before we said our farewells; I promised her that I would return when time permitted, and I thanked her entourage of female warriors for their hospitality and we promptly walked with heavy shoulders through the threshold under the “Departure” sign.

We collected our boarding passes and Xiao Qi’s ghost perched on my head. “Cry if you want to,” she said, “There’s no need to put up a manly facade now!” Something about what she said struck like a chord in my heart, and my eyes began welling with tears. I had no craving or aspirations for a life of plundering and marauding, no more than the act of taking one’s life. But the trip to Inner Mongolia had also become a journey of self-discovery; a realization of my love for the freedom that one could feel and embody while riding on the boundless meadows of the north. Everyone at Aunt Ulan’s camp was straightforward and honestly eloquent people; a quality that would hardly be easy to find in city-dwellers.

We boarded our flight with trails of tears slowly drying from my damp eyes. Our short flight back resumed again with another bout of our journey via the subway and train, during which I was plunged back into the hectic and busy city life; my tears fully dried as my former mindset and psyche came back to me as if a switch had been flipped. It was dark when we reached Wu Zhong County, and there were my father, Uncle Quan, and Old Man Chen waiting for us outside the train station. Apparently, Lin Feng had called ahead to tell his father of our return when I was still sulking earlier. It was odd, seeing three older men waiting for three younger juniors. Father broke into a huge laughter. “You seemed to have grown a lot, my son.” Beside him, Uncle Quan and Old Man Chen each gave their son and disciple approving nods.

We first went to Aunt Fen’s to drop the Sisters in addition to a package of beef jerky that we promised Mr. Zhang, who was overjoyed to see us return. He would have kept us longer if not for our need to leave and see to our things. Yuan Chongxi slipped off later, to meet his girlfriend, whose name we still not know, while Lin Feng went off to look for Yuanyuan. This might be how couples develop their relationship, I mused, seeing as how my companions were so eager to meet their sweethearts right after our adventure. This could be why some would say some time away could do wonders for relationships. For a string of few days, I remained alone at the Center. Lin Feng returned a few days later, allowing me to take a day off. But trouble came knocking again, just when Lin Feng was on duty, in the form of a man named Kang from a neighboring town.