Chapter 12:
The Reaper of Souls
“YOUR HIGHNESS, run!”
“What?” The Prince of Joy was still confused, so Dai Shengyan wrenched him forward, making him stumble.
The assassin approached slowly. They scraped their blade against the brick wall with an earsplitting screech, sparks flying.
“Y-you… Who are you?” The Prince of Joy pointed at the assassin, his voice trembling.
The assassin’s only reply was a low, eerie chuckle. The sound was soft, little more than a murmur. Yet, as it spilled forth, it seemed to reverberate until the air itself laughed alongside the figure. The prince and Dai Shengyan both felt their scalps prickle with terror.
The Prince of Joy scrambled to his feet and ran with Dai Shengyan close behind. They turned several corners, and the assassin’s laughter gradually faded. Only when they no longer heard it did they dare stop, leaning against a wall to catch their breath.
“Was that a person or a ghost?” the Prince of Joy panted.
Dai Shengyan cautiously peeked around the corner to see whether the assassin was following them. The dim light revealed nothing in the darkness ahead; the assassin might emerge from that darkness at any moment.
Pulling back, Dai Shengyan said, “There’s no such thing as ghosts. It must be someone’s trick. We didn’t realize it while we were fleeing, but we’ve run quite far from the residence now. Let’s hurry to the county office and get help.”
“Good idea.” The Prince of Joy struggled to stand. “But I’m exhausted. Let me rest for a moment.”
The prince suddenly froze, his head lowered.
Noticing his stillness, Dai Shengyan asked, “What’s wrong?”
The Prince of Joy trembled as he pointed to the ground, voice quivering. “Look… Does that shadow have three heads?”
Dai Shengyan peered downward. On the ground was a massive shadow—the prince’s—and a thinner one—his own. But between them was an additional smaller shadow, as if a third head had sprouted from their shoulders.
They slowly raised their eyes, coming face-to-face with an expressionless visage. It stared at them, then slowly grinned, revealing gleaming white teeth.
“Ahhhhh!”
The prince and Dai Shengyan screamed in terror, scrambling away from the tree.
The assassin flipped down from the wall, landing gracefully on the ground. They raised their head, and their lips curved into a malicious smile.
“I am the Garuda of Qiye Garden, come to send Your Highness to paradise.”
The voice was low and genderless, like the whisper of a ghost from an ancient wasteland—hoarse yet clear, as if simultaneously echoing from afar and speaking right by their ears.
Their surroundings were pitch-black but for a few lanterns hung on the walls. Resembling a demon lurking in the darkness, the assassin called the Garuda stepped closer.
One step. Two steps. Three steps…
“Stay back! Stay back!” Dai Shengyan and the Prince of Joy stumbled backward in unison.
The Garuda reached the edge of the darkness, their body now bathed in moonlight below the shoulders. Clad in black robes, they stood as straight as a crane. As the darkness receded to the contours of the assassin’s face, a shimmering blade flashed like water. The black shadow darted owlishly between Dai Shengyan and the prince. In that moment, they seemed to hear rippling water. Then something warm and sticky splashed their faces.
Numb, Dai Shengyan turned around to glimpse the cold, long saber first. On its blade were inscribed the characters Hengbo in seal script. His eyes traveled up the blade, landing on the Prince of Joy’s horrified face—and the crimson gash across his neck.
Blood splattered, staining Dai Shengyan’s cheek.
Before him, the Garuda maintained a malicious smile. Bright-red blood stained their lips, bringing with it cruel beauty.
As Dai Shengyan stumbled backward in terror, he finally got a clear look at the Garuda. She was a woman of striking beauty despite the sharply arched eyebrows that gave her a fierce, murderous air. Her beauty was wild, like a leopard’s, sending a shiver down his spine.
In that instant, Dai Shengyan made a decision. Holding his breath, he lunged forward, drew a sword from the prince’s side, and thrust it at the Garuda.
The sword was adorned with jewels, its blade polished and reflective. It suited the Prince of Joy’s style perfectly, but as soon as Dai Shengyan drew it, he knew that he was doomed—the blade’s edge was unsharpened. Dai Shengyan had studied swordplay in his youth, never neglecting it despite his scholarly pursuits, yet even a grandmaster of the sword would be helpless now.
But so what?
Pouring all his strength into the thrust, he charged forward like a moth to a flame.
Even if there was only a sliver of hope, he had to fight!
A blink later, the blade shone like frost, shedding its jeweled splendor as it sliced through the darkness. The Garuda raised an eyebrow and met the sword with her saber. With a flick of her wrist, her water-like blade slid along Dai Shengyan’s to just below his hand, leaving a long, shallow cut.
Dai Shengyan’s wrist throbbed in pain, and his sword clattered to the ground.
The Garuda sneered. “Does every scholar have a death wish?”
Dai Shengyan closed his eyes and sighed. “I am no match for you. Do as you will.”
The Garuda tapped Dai Shengyan’s cheek with her saber. “Aren’t you going to beg for your life, old man? You could claim to have a large family depending on you, a hundred mouths to feed. Maybe then I’d… Fine, I still wouldn’t let you go.”
Dai Shengyan forced a dry laugh, humoring her. “Before I die, I have one question: Why did you assassinate the prince?”
The Garuda stroked her chin. “Hmm. I suppose there’s no harm in telling you now.” She kicked the Prince of Joy’s rotund corpse. “Anytime this scoundrel had nothing better to do, he went around snatching women off the streets. All the beautiful girls within a few hundred miles of Jiangzhou ended up in his residence. The women were sold into slavery, and the men couldn’t find good wives. The men were furious, the women resentful. Isn’t that reason enough to despise him?”
Dai Shengyan sighed. “The world is unjust, but killing is also unjust. Though he lived hedonistically, he never took a life. What you’ve done isn’t justice but a crime.”
“Justice?” The Garuda laughed. “I was paid to do this. It wasn’t about justice; it was about money.”
That stunned Dai Shengyan into silence.
“But is killing truly the greatest evil? If he could treat beautiful women as playthings, then I can treat humans as ants. Where is the injustice in that?” She looked down at the prince’s corpse. Despite the wicked smile curving her lips, she resembled a temple statue watching from above, her gaze cold and emotionless.
Dai Shengyan suddenly understood. He straightened his robes and closed his eyes, ready to meet his end. “Do it.”
He stretched out his neck so that it resembled the throat of an old duck pulled over a chopping block. His thin body didn’t fill out his voluminous robes—they fluttered emptily in the wind, making him look like a scarecrow. It was somewhat comical.
The Garuda laughed again, the coldness in her eyes vanishing in an instant. “Well, actually, your death isn’t set in stone. I happen to have a favor to ask of you.”
“I won’t do anything evil.”
“I know, I know,” the Garuda replied. “Here’s the thing. I, uh, made a little mistake and ended up with a child.”
She said this as casually as if she were talking about picking up a stray dog on the roadside—and not a particularly welcome one. Dai Shengyan’s mouth twitched, but he said nothing.
“I haven’t read much, so I’ve been struggling for months to come up with a good name. They say you’re a great scholar, second only to Confucius, Mencius, and Zhu Xi.” The Garuda pulled a piece of paper from her robe and handed it to Dai Shengyan. “This is my son’s birth chart. Look it over, divine the trigrams and five elements or whatever, and then come up with a good name. If you do, I’ll let you go. I’ve always respected scholars. It seems like a fair deal, doesn’t it?”
Dai Shengyan shook his head. “My knowledge of divination notwithstanding, you’re an outlaw, and I’m an official. Even if you spare my life, I’ll have to post wanted signs with your portrait on the city walls tomorrow. There’s no way around it, so just get it over with.”
“Why’re you so stubborn? Ah, forget it. Post them if you must. Do you really think you and all those useless government officials can catch me?” The Garuda stuffed the birth chart into Dai Shengyan’s hand, then poked his shoulder with her saber. “Hurry up. I don’t have much time.”
Dai Shengyan took a deep breath, suppressing the storm of indescribable emotions in his heart.
The Garuda had been ruthless and cold when killing, but she was otherwise carefree and flippant. In all his years, Dai Shengyan had never met anyone like her.
Perhaps all those who rolled around in mountains of corpses and seas of blood were a bit twisted.
Glancing at the yellow paper in his hand and the Hengbo saber resting on his shoulder, he thought for a moment. “How about a single character for his name? ‘Lian,’ as in ‘Amid the vast green wilderness, a shadow falls between the rippling waves.’ That pairs well with your saber’s name, ‘Great Waves.’”
“A shadow falls between the rippling waves,” the Garuda muttered a few times, and her lips curved into a satisfied smile. The unconcealable wickedness in her eyes tinged her seemingly kind smile with malice and mischief.