Children Tales? - Part 2

If the reader could imagine Hanyu's dismay and uneasiness when, upon the conclusion of his ghostly narrative, he found himself under intense scrutiny.

The thought, once having entered their minds was so not easily got rid of. They thought of… well, of many things as it is possible to think when the gates of the imagination fling wide open.

Indeed, since childhood they had read and heard of such folkloric tales; and the thought that such otherworldly things even came across them seemed almost incredible, irrational… but still, terrifying and tangible, causing them to cower in fright.

Fear... a powerful feeling stripping away reasoning and wisdom.

Most children tales were made up, of course. Parents, grandparents, elders told scary stories when they were children to keep their behaviour in check and to restrain the unfavourable habits of youth. The lessons taught in those stories reminded them not to lie, not to steal, not to wander off to unknown places alone, not to trust in strangers, to listen to their parents, and to uphold high morals standards. Otherwise.... if they disobeyed... monsters would come to get them.

As one matures, those tales causing one to tremble during our childhood hold no power over our mind any longer.

But, there were other stories, ancient and dark stories, passed down through generations, becoming folklore and which instilled fright even in a grownup person. They were petrifying and powerful tales rising  beyond logic and above one's capability to dismiss them. Because, those monsters truly lurked in the shadows of the real world.

For a moment, Hanyu was a prey to various emotions as they stared at him. Eyes that certainly contained emotions which were unlike anything he expected. They were back to being vulnerable children quivering; wanting to flee or to hide, or in the worst case... to seize him, to bind his hands and feet and disposed of him into the dark forest.

It was alarming.

"What crazy ideas you have! Do you really believe that I am..." Hanyu stammered in confusion. "This is just nonsense!"

Even his nephew regarded him as if he was a monster.

Li Ji's chill fingers seemed to search for Shufeng's hand. At first, untouched by all this superstitions and gibberish, Shufeng was about to drop the foolery and laugh about it; however the unsureness and edginess upon their faces were altogether too strong to be resisted. Thus, with the possibility of practical joke, he toyed with their powerless imagination.

"Hanyu, you must be famished, why have you not touched your fish stew? Is it not to your liking?"

And there! This was the thought in their minds that had been spoken aloud. Yet, their eyes flickered with the expectation that in the end the story of Hanyu's adventure would be either a joke or some hallucination caused by his exhaustion. For sure, this situation was all too illogical.

At this, Hanyu replied bluntly: "Your Highness, aren't you afraid I'll turn to my true form once the fish hit my tongue?"

Shufeng appreciated that Hanyu was trying to defuse this tense situation by his banter, but instead he only managed to arouse additional suspicion.

The wooden spoon abruptly stopped mid-air, and following a groan his trembling hand dropped the spoon before he had tasted the fish stew.

Jian, who was sitting next to his uncle, glanced at So Dzong blocking the entrance, then at his startled companions sitting around the glow of flaming embers. How preposterous the whole affair was! Jian regained his senses, for indeed, nothing of a suspicious nature had been observed. As his uncle lifted the spoon, this action had clearly exacerbated the stabbing wound at his side. Why did my flesh creep and my knees quake with fright? How ridiculous, thought Jian.

"As incoherent as his story may be, Uncle's wound is definetely not imagination."

Jian could no see no other way out of proving they were acting unreasonably than to undress the wound. "The old tales speak of the were-beast amazing healing powers, do they not? Well, behold..."

As soon as the last strip of gauze uncovered Hanyu's skin, Jian could not believe his eyes, but he held his peace. His hand poked at the undamaged skin.

"What's wrong?" Hanyu murmured, taken aback by his nephew's reaction and his lack of sensation.

"Your wound has cicatrised..." His voice trailed off. "But I saw it with my own eyes... the blood... the tear in your clothes." 

Meanwhile, the Alchemist, standing a little further away had been keenly watching him all the time—though he never appeared to have once glanced at Hanyu.

If the alert gaze of this man, who had lived more than the passing of time showing on his face, was staring very hard at Hanyu, it were not for the reasons the reader is actually thinking of.

With feelings half of alarm and half of curiosity, Li Ji approached Hanyu to examine herself the wound. No flesh was torn, merely a bruise the size of a man's hand. She gasped and plopped to the ground uttering the same words as those of Jian.

"The wound caused by the stabbing had totally disappeared!"

Even Shufeng began to feel a bit nervous. "Did you both see the wound? Are you sure of it?"

"Of course I saw it," she said adamantly.

During that time, Hanyu was so spellbound with horror that a sort of numbness had come over him.

There was no denying that a certain sinister and oppressive atmosphere, which even Shufeng could not ignore, pervaded the entire cave.

Still, the prince was reluctant to believe such folktales. And refusing to doubt the conviction of his beliefs, he decided to examine Hanyu himself.

What were the explanations for his unnatural recovery?

None.

Li Ji was the most frightened, while Jian bravely wore a mask of calmness. Were there really no explanations for his unnatural recovery?

Li Ji glanced towards So Dzong. If one were to believe ancient legends…

Alchemists could walk through water and fire, rise into emptiness without falling, and strike against solid matter without finding it an obstruction.

They could change the shape of things, like stone into metals, and they knew a thousands other transformations in all their inexhaustible variety.

Also, they could also make mountains and rivers change place, shift about cities and castles. And change men's thoughts.

…Well, if she was foolish enough to believe such extraordinary accounts, wouldn't a puny stab wound be a trivial matter for So Dzong?

Regaining his awareness of the situation, Hanyu cried out to So Dzong: "Master! I have become a Changwei*! I will lead the monster here and surely you will all die because of me! Please, end my life this instant!"

The echoes of his voice died away slowly. Then, in the intense silence that followed, the Alchemist walked toward Hanyu with slow and measured steps, with his hands clasped behind him.

Bewildered but inclined to accept his fate, Hanyu urgently begged the Alchemist to take him away deep into the forest and to destroy him before the last thread of his humanity had disappeared and thence inciting him to murderous intent.

Upon these last words, Jian and his uncle fell into each other arms. They were weeping and saying their goodbyes. 

The Alchemist showed no vestige of emotion. With a perceptible impatience in his tone as though he was anxious to bring the matter to a conclusion as soon as possible, he said in a clear concise voice:

"I also saw your wound." Then he smiled. "Do you remember the words you once told me? That if you must die, you hope not to die a boring death. Ah! Is this death interesting enough for the likes of warrior such as you?"

Hanyu raised his head at him, eyes widened in shock and could not comprehend why So Dzong could joke about him dying.

In his confusion, Jian was unable to remain calm, and jumped onto his feet, "Old man!... How dare you ...," he was cut short due to uncontrollable sobbing.

"Yes, I saw your uncle's wound. Just a couple of broken ribs," So Dzong told Jian reassuringly. "And as for you, my old friend, there is no boring nor interesting way to die. What's worst than any type of death is to leave those who loves you behind."

Next, there was amusement in his face, "What you all saw was merely blood on his clothes. Did you actually see the wound?"

Recalling what happened, in truth they had not seen the injury with their own eyes per se. Seeing the blood, the torn garment and his pain, they naturally though he was wounded. In fact, they were nowhere near Hanyu when So Dzong cared for his injury.

No sooner than Jian set down his unconscious uncle on the fur pelts, So Dzong had sent them away with specific tasks: Jian to fetch some drinking water, Li Ji to prepare a medicinal numbing balm, and Shufeng to cut strips of bandages.

So Dong pursued: "You simply forced it on your mind and fooled yourself thoroughly when you heard Hanyu's account that he had been stabbed.

"And here, all of you have got up this whole rumpus of were-tiger, fox demon, and fish stew; on account of this man's obvious hallucination, and also on account of my unashamed relative who found it funny to encourage your own weakening of mind." So Dzong eyed the prince deliberately, who, in silence, shuffled back to the fire and away from his companions as would a scolded child.

So Dzong friendly sympathy was distinctly written on his face when he turned to Hanyu: "My friend, you have suffered greatly. Your weary body, the hunger, the sleepless nights, the unrest of mind, the anguish to know whether or not those three fools were safe; all of this contributed to your demented state of mind and your eyes deceived you. The blood on your clothes is not yours, but most likely your enemy's."

Then the old man looked each one of them sternly. "Changwei... Ah! How ridiculous indeed."

Then a thin soft voice barely floated to everyone's ears: "The fish stew only uncover nekomata not were-tiger. His story was about a were-tiger. Was it not? So why did they get so flustered about the fish... Shall I be blamed if they are too easily scared?" Shufeng justified himself quite unabashedly, however he had not raised his eyes from above the level of the floor.

Jian and Li Ji didn't respond out of respect for their Prince. But then again, he had spoken with a tinge of timidity and innocence similar to one of a little boy expecting his father's rebuke, and it was quite endearing.

A secret cease to be a secret when shared by too many—and The Alchemist was keeping a fifteen-year's long secret from everybody.

But when there was something in the recent events which had threatened his secret with discovery; he was nerving himself to reveal the identity and the origins of the woman clad in white foxskin, but instead he hesitated and pondered the question if he should actually tell them.

But their fragile minds were not ready yet. Most importantly, the prince was certainly not prepared for the truth.

So he had them believe that they had listened to the account of a man's delusion.

Although, if at the time Shufeng thought nothing of it, he remembered later on that he noticed something peculiar stuck into the fibres of Hanyu's garment.

But before he could do so himself, So Dzong had already picked up the garment off the floor and threw it into the fire.

This something peculiar was...

A gilded broken nail.