After that the woman threw the dead dog down on the body of the wang's concubine who lay in a swoon on the ground.

There was silence and confusion for a second. Everybody stood still: soldiers, eunuchs, gapers, prince Zhou demanding to give him any weapon... Only Eighth Aunty was shaking her head and looking at her hands as if she hadn't ever seen them before; and a shaven-headed monk clad in an orange cassock was sliding noiselessly towards the murderous woman. Keeping his place at the very end of the procession he he did not have an opportunity to take any part in the battle.

The wooden sandals of the monk touched the ground as lightly as leaves; the heaven-folk of the White Clouds may walk in such a way, for they are able to stand safely on a thin sheet of rice paper.

But even this monk didn't manage to come in time.

Eighth Aunty became suddenly as weighty and awkward as she had always been, but her hands stretched as if by themselves forward and down forcing her to sit down, and then the fingers of her right hand, like a spider hunting for the paralyzed prey seized the handle of the broken jian sword dropped by prince Zhou.

The orange cassock began to move two times faster like a cloud driven by a sunset wind; when the monk had to make but five steps to reach the wife of the dyer Mao she made a smooth, almost imperceptible movement and cut her throat with a fragment of the wang's sword just under her second flabby chin. The length of the broken sword was just sufficient to do this.

Thick blood gushed at the pretty Xuan who had hardly regained consciousness and fell aswoon again. Blood covered the face of the living wang's concubine and the corpse of her dead little dog.

It was to the Zhou-wang’s credit that he managed to collect himself the first. He dismounted, ran to the monk and grasped his bony shoulder.

– How can you explain this, venerable Banh?! – roared the prince and pressed the shoulder still stronger. – Is it not your duty to see to it that the plotters should be imprisoned and wait for the sentence in stocks, and not walk in the streets when the Emperor's brother is coming?! Or are you going to say once more that all things are vanity in this world and the Yellow Powder covers the eyes of the living?!

The monk didn't even wince, as if the wrathful Zhou were not clenching his shoulder like tongs or might have forgotten that this man spitting his saliva is a mighty ruler having enough power to decide whom to live and whom to die.

– All things are indeed vanity in this world, – answered the venerable Banh in an undertone, and doleful wrinkles deepened on his impassive, as if lacquered face. – I'm but an insignificant monk, how can I guess the will of the Nine Heavens, if the Lord of the Underworld, Prince Yanlo, would decide to prolong or to shorten one's existence? But I'll do all that is possible, all that a silly monk is able to do with his miserable force...

The grasp on his shoulder loosened. Zhou-wang knew perfectly well who stands behind the “insignificant” monk. Such gentle monks were supervising each of the Qin-wangs, or close relatives, and each of the Jun-wangs, or regional governors. And all these monks got a full-scale training in a famous monastery near the Songshan mountain. This was explained by some high policy requirements. But prince Zhou needed no explanations to understand who was dictating these requirements to the Emperor Yong Le: oh, anybody knows that the venerable Zhang Wo has other duties besides his formal ones, consisting in the relations with remote provinces and neighboring countries...

The venerable Zhang was one of the supreme leaders of the Shaolin cloister and for many years already he has been standing like a grey shadow at the back of the Son of Heaven.

The circle of the trusted persons of this humblest servant of Buddha was so wide that its outlines were fuzzy as if covered with a veil of mist; it was also so secret that the same veil hid it securely from all curious eyes. Only one thing was certain: the warrior monks, obedient to the orders of the head of the secret service were present throughout the country, from Henan to Fuzhou, and even from the Land of Morning Freshness to the Viet territories and the most distant Ruku Island. For it was just following the advice of the venerable Zhang Wo that the Emperor carried out an unprecedented purge of bureaucrats, signed the decree "On the Great Sea Travels" and granted the Shaolin monastery vast arable lands. Be you even thrice a wang, you should think thrice before grasping the shoulders of one of these damned spying monks! And the more so because each of the shaven-headed members of the monastery at Songshan mountain is worth a detachment of bodyguards. Or a detachment of assassins.

...Prince Zhou spat and went away. He knew for sure that he wouldn't entrust the investigation of this strange attempt to the venerable Banh even if the monk would insist on it. Let him do it, if such is his wish, secretly, without official orders. But it is necessary to decide who of the Ningo judges is worthy enough to solve this problem... oh, no, not today.

This day is already spoiled completely.

And the concubine Xuannu is to be sent away to her parents this week.

After seeing Xuannu the Faultless in a swoon, covered with blood, the dead dog lying on her bosom the prince could not feel anything but aversion to his ex-beloved girl.

And the body of Eighth Aunty was already being brought to the yard of the local guard office...

...The functionary was making a polite speech, long and flowery. He did his best to praise the honesty and incorruptibility of the highly respected xiangyigong [4] , remembered all his numerous merits one after another but still did not come to the point: why did he, the court official of the illustrious Zhou-wang, came so early in the morning to visit Bao the judge?

However, the judge Bao guessed the reason of this strange visit without explanation; more than that: he knew it for sure. Of course, the master of ceremonies was inclined to pretentious, highflown discourse and accustomed to flattery, but this time he did not overstate the merits of the highly respected xiangyigong in the field of solving many complicated cases. So it was not difficult at all for the visiting examiner [5] Bao to correlate the quite strange happening at the central street of Ningo the day before with the visit of the prince's Zhou court master of ceremonies.

As to honesty, the worthy master of ceremonies hasn't sinned against the truth too. For the Ningo people have long ago given to the worthy judge Bao the name of Bao the Dragons' Seal, hinting at his legendary predecessor and namesake who had become famous for his incorruptibility about three hundred years ago. All was true and clear from the very beginning and therefore unbearably boring. The judge was nodding his head politely listening to the courtier who had evidently read too much Kongzi, and rather not the books by Kongzi himself but his modern interpreters; but the thoughts of the judge Bao were turned to quite other subjects.

A new disease has appeared some time ago in the lands of the Heavenly Empire, Tianxia, and the common people soon began to call it "Buddha's Madness" because it distorted human conscience by an unexpected and inevitable feeling of an endless chain of reincarnations. The disease was constantly expanding and turning to real epidemic. Bao the judge has already heard about it many times and seen with his own eyes people who would go out of their mind as if thunder-striken: they forgot their PRESENT personality and were torn and tormented by conflicting memories of many previous lives. These awakened memories allowed them to tell in details the story of An Lushan [6] uprising or to remind the battles and marches of Zhuge Lian [7] or Sun Wu [8] , to speak some incomprehensive languages and to predict future events, but they were unable to recall their present name, to recognize their native home and their relatives.