"The deity of Soil who discredited his rank is to be dismissed from his post. The protecting spirit is to obtain a penalty written down in his dossier. Xiucai What's-his-Name will obtain thirty blows of canes in about a month for his disregard for the spirits and inclination to lawsuits."

And quite so the story ended very soon.

But now Judge Bao was not inclined to jokes: in his thoughts he was still looking at the two arms of the dead woman.

Of course, when alive, Eighth Aunty had not any dragons or tigers at her arms; this fact was confirmed both by her husband, the dyer Mao, and by the numerous relatives, as well as by the still more numerous neighbors. Any signs of some magic or medicinal potions were not found too. The judge had once more examined the corpse in the presence of the chief town physician, got sure that the strange putrefaction spots did not vanish, on the contrary, they became even more distinct, and ordered to write this fact down to the record of evidence. After that he went heavily to his office and was now sitting there in an awful mood and with his head unbearably sore.

– ...imagine, the highly respected xiangyigong, he didn't take anything in the house of jüren Tong but tore to pieces his favorite tiger-stripped orchid that the worthy jüren Tong had planted according the Bahua canon...

– Who was it? – asked the judge feeling no real interest, just for distraction. He has turned a deaf ear to all previous parts of the long and variegated story of the loquacious xiucai.

– Well, the burglar himself! – Xingge the Third exclaimed gladly, happy that his boss has at last heard his tale and even seemed to become interested in it. – He tore off the favorite tiger orchid of jüren Tong and then pierced his own breast with a gardener's knife, just into the heart! When jüren Tong had heard about all this, he almost got a stroke, – continued xiucai, very content, because he didn't like Tong who was luckier than he (and, to say sincerely, quite haughty). – He was so sorry because of the orchid... So now he won't go to the Capital; and your substitute, the worthy Fuh, ordered to cut off the arms of the crazy burglar who has committed suicide and to nail them to the pillory at the town square in order to teach the others not to do so again.

– Was the burglar identified? – asked the judge flaccidly; his headache became a bit lesser, may be due to the drug or just by itself.

– Yes, he was indeed! His name was Fang Yushi, a seller of sweets, everybody knows him, a most honest man, unlike other sellers! That's why I was saying: he must have gone crazy. I used to buy rice buns sprinkled with caraway seeds from him, and now I really don't know where to find them! You surely have already noticed, the highly respected xiangyigong, that things are going wrong in our vicinities, well, and people say that in the whole Tianxia...

The judge interrupted xiucai:

– Why didn't Fuh report all this to me?

– He didn't want to bother you, the highly respected xiangyigong! For the case is quite clear, the criminal is known and besides he's dead...

But Judge Bao has diverted again his attention from the chatter of Xingge the Third.

These two silly happenings had something in common, something that made them two adjoining links of a chain, and Judge Bao felt the familiar hunting fervor, the state of mind when you begin suddenly to discern some fragments of the puzzle in the senseless collection of facts, insignificant details, pieces of evidence and testimonies, matching with each other, coinciding at completely unexpected angles, and you understand the right thread is in your hand and now you need only to pull at it, to pull carefully lest you don't tear it...

The violent and seemingly senseless deed of Eighth Aunty crowned by her suicide; and the equally inadequate doings of the respectable merchant Fang Yushi resulted in his heart being pierced. That's the point: the both cases were seemingly senseless and ended with the initiator's suicide!

– I'd like to have a walk in the square, – the judge murmured rather to himself and went slowly out of his office.

– Are you the highly respected xiangyigong Bao?

The question was excessive: only a blind could take the judge Bao for somebody else in Ningo.

The judge turned around without haste. He recognized at once this elderly monk in an orange cassock too. Venerable Banh, a member of secret service, a bit of bodyguard and surely a spy watching the illustrious Zhou-wang. However, he didn't manage to do anything during the recent carnage.

Didn't manage?

Didn't want?

– Yes, it's me, venerable father, – nodded the judge joining his palms respectfully under his breast. – It's just as the saying goes: you know all things, both explicit and secret ones! I just was going to meet you and talk a little. As far as I know, you had taken monastic vows and then were trained at the famous monastery under the Song mountain? Happy indeed is the cloister the patriarch of which was personally invited to the ceremony when our ruling Emperor Yong Le, the Son of Heavens, ascended his throne, be he alive forever! It seems to me that the Son of Heavens ordered to transfer the capital from Nangjing Beijing just following the advice of the Shaolin patriarch. Was it really so?

– The knowledge of "the lord who maintains undauntedness" is worth admiring, – the monk bowed his head modestly, but this modesty could not deceive the judge.

Venerable Banh couldn't have met him by chance!

– Then I'd like to ask you to show me, as unworthy as I am, the holy signs of tiger and dragon on your arms. I hope the monastery rules don't forbid this?

– Oh, no, the highly respected xiangyigong, just on the contrary! – the monk smiled, clearly flattered by this request of the judge Bao, for it was expressed in such a submissive tone. – Of course you can look at them! Here they are...

And he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows.

The highly respected xiangyigong examined for some time quite carefully the images shown to him (they were branded by fire on the forearms of the monk) and then asked innocently:

– Please tell me, the venerable Banh, can anybody have such signs besides the monks who had passed their tests in the Shaolin monastery?

– I haven't heard about anybody who'd dare to fake them, – the voice of the monk remained calm but his narrow eyes became still narrower.

– But can they be hidden in some way? – the judge went on. – If, for example, some warrior monk does not want to be recognized?

– It is possible, I think, – the monk shrugged his shoulders, – but what for? The scars would be left... Moreover, those who passed the Labyrinth of Mannequins are rather few and well known not only in the cloister. I suppose, you've heard that one who had become a Shaolin monk can get the right to leave the cloister freely only in three ways. The first is to pass the test; but it is not for everybody and requires at least fifteen years of daily exhaustive training; the second is to be sent to the external world on some errand but such occasions are rather rare...

– And what is the third?

The monk simply lifted his hands as if hinting that the third way out is opened for everybody and in any situation.

– I understand you, the highly respected xiangyigong, – continued the venerable Banh after a pause. – You were given a complicated and unpleasant case to investigate. Your duty is to solve this problem... but I think it would not be a great disaster if you'd soon give up your research. Naturally, it would be possible not before you'd have honestly found out all that is possible. And it somehow seems to me, as worthless as I am, that you've already done this. The disturber was acting alone, without any assistance, being surely mad. Besides, she's now dead, and who will be able to say in what state of mind the unlucky woman had been at that moment?