Hardly had the door closed indeed after the worthy follower of Kongzi and his later commentators, the judge Bao sighed heavily and unrolled the scroll.

He was given more emergency powers than he expected. Significantly more. Plus several blank tallies for the judge to fill in as he would think best. Plus the permission inserted inside the scroll... The judge Bao hoped very much that he wouldn't be obliged to use THIS permission. Yes, he was now allowed to do many things, too many even for "the lord who maintains undauntedness". But in case he failed the punishment would be especially severe; the judge understood this perfectly well. Well, it was necessary to pay to this case foisted to him as much attention as possible although in real earnest Bao preferred (Heavens knew it!) to investigate a recent case of murder: some rich merchant who came to Ningo on business was found just yesterday with his belly cut open in one of the town pools.

But, as a poet said, "the dreams of the spring are far in the heavens".

Judge Bao sighed heavily once more and went to make the examination of the corpses.

Everything was clear as to the corpses of the soldiers, the dog, the bodyguards and taiwey: broken necks and backbones, crushed sculls and other mortal injuries were simply the result of the battle. And each of them had but one wound; this fact made the judge to conclude that the killer was an experienced warrior who wasn't used to strike twice one and the same adversary, for is it reasonable to strike somebody who's already dead?

The body of Eighth Aunty, the culprit of the carnage, initially did not present any difficulties too: the cut-off throat was quite clear an evidence. And all witnesses were almost unanimous in their testimonies; the perspicacious Bao took care in advance to cross-examine them and to collect material evidence. At the same time he didn't forget to send one of his detectives to interrogate the dyer Mao and his numerous relatives as well as those of Eighth Aunty if any such (relatives, and not Aunty!) did exist. Even before the coming of the master of ceremonies the judge had felt that this case would be his, and such premonitions have seldom deceived him; that's why he decided to begin the investigation immediately. For it is well known that the success of investigation depends on the time of its beginning: when you go hot on the heels of a criminal the pieces of evidence have not yet disappeared, the witnesses are still at hand, and their memory is quite fresh.

Of course, it will be necessary to order the physicians of the town office to make the autopsy and other analyses to determine whether the respected married woman was acting under the influence of some venomous substance. But it was rather improbable; the judge doubted it while looking long at the calm and peaceful face of the dead Eighth Aunty and shook his head: she seemed to have died as one who had honestly fulfilled his duty. It was hard to imagine such a potion that could convert the humblest wife of the dyer Mao to a master of fighting arts capable to knock down a half of the prince Zhou’s guards!

Moreover, it would be easy to understand if the killer dashed at Zhou himself, but she preferred to break the back of the favorite dog of the favorite concubine and, satisfied with this heroic deed, cut her own throat eagerly!

Could she have hated that tiny dog to such extent as to send so much people over to join it?

Well, if you dislike the animal, throw a stone to hit it from afar...

The judge Bao disliked such cases. He solved them as well as all other ones but didn't like them. With usual murders, mugging and forgery it was clear from the very beginning whom to search for and where, while the cases of this kind never allowed to know in advance what facts would be disclosed this time, whose pet corn you'd tread on and who would feel worse in the end: the criminal or the excessively diligent investigator?

Naturally, the investigators of the Eighth Aunty's corpse have found out and recorded the fact that the criminal had died because of the cutting of her throat committed by the aforesaid criminal herself; further, that the wife of the dyer Mao had never been trained in any special warrior exercises besides washing and other homestead activities. It was confirmed by the evidence given by her relatives; being very afraid of tortures and thus very talkative all of them were repeating unanimously that Eighth Aunty had just vague notions of fighting without taking into consideration periodical beating of her drunken husband. And once again: forty or even more years of calm, inconspicuous life, no secrets: husband, children, home work, chatting with neighbors...

No, such woman could not kill about two dozens of the best guards of Zhou-wang including his personal bodyguards and taiwey in few minutes even for the sake of the most loathsome little dog in the world!

Nevertheless, the fact was quite evident.

The judge Bao stood for some more time near the dead body and was already going to leave when his glance fell by chance at the stretched arm of the woman. Bluish putrefaction spots began to show through at her forearm, and it was quite natural, but the form of these spots was strange, it reminded the judge of something very familiar...

Judge Bao bent down, gazing attentively and all of a sudden seized the other cold arm of the deceased and turned its palm up.

There it was, without any doubts!

At the forearms of the humblest Eighth Aunty there were dimly visible, as if tattooed by the death, the figures of tiger and dragon: distinguishing signs of warrior monks who passed through the Labyrinth of mannequins impassable for others in the Shaolin monastery in the land of Henan!

Just such tattooed figures, but branded with fire, were at the arms of the venerable Zhan Wo, the head of the Emperor's secret office, and the venerable Banh supervising Zhou-wang.

Judge Bao had awful headache. The drug prescribed by his doctor, usually very helpful, did not give any relief this time. Dull, tiresome ache was pulsing in his temples, his thoughts were confused; the judge could do nothing besides looking automatically through the pile of applications and complaints and other papers on his table glancing distractedly at the accurate rows of hieroglyphs but not understanding the essence of the written texts.

Xiucai [9] Xingge the Third was droning on under his breath at another table in the far corner of the room. He was as dull and tiresome as the headache with his hair swarmed-down and all his efforts to look younger than his real age. He has been sitting at this place for about ten years being unable to pass the examinations necessary to obtain the grade of jüren [10] . The reason of this was the "narrow-mindedness irremediable by any diligence", according to the opinion of some of his examiners.

Xingge the Third reminded the judge a xiucai from an old story who had once stayed to rest in a local temple and lay there naked wanting to cool himself. But it was a bit too cool in the temple (dedicated to a deity of Soil) and the xiucai caught a cold. Having brought some sacrifices to the altar of this deity he recovered but considered the situation to be abusive. So the xiucai wrote a detailed report accusing the deity of Soil of having forced him to bring sacrifices by ruse; then he burned his report at the temple of the protecting spirit of that place. There was no answer. Xiucai waited for ten days and then wrote another report accusing the protecting spirit of neglecting his official duties and burned it at the temple of the Jade Lord. At night the xiucai had a dream: he saw a fiery inscription on the wall of his house made in ancient rounded letters. The inscription read: