Chapter Thirty-Six: A Ray of Hope in Despair

Chapter Thirty-Six: A Chance at Survival in Desperation

Unfolding the paper, Tie Xinyuan began to reconstruct the diagram of the Divine Arm Crossbow from memory, quietly discussing uncertain points with Clever Child. When he reached the section detailing the mechanism, he paused and said to the burly man, “There’s something missing from the original diagram.”

The man frowned. “What’s missing? Or are you just pretending to have forgotten something so you can make up the rest?”

Tie Xinyuan shook his head. “My ancestors were all blacksmiths—my grandfather, my father—they all forged iron. I’ve played with diagrams like these since I could walk. The one you want, the Divine Arm Bow, I saw for the first time, so I memorized it. As for Clever Child’s family—”

“They come from a line of bow and crossbow makers. I know that perfectly well, no need for you to say more. Tell me the important part.”

Tie Xinyuan swallowed and said, “The Divine Arm Bow uses a stiff limb and a flexible string, so it takes tremendous strength to draw. If you add a ratchet mechanism, at least sixty percent of the effort could be saved.”

The burly man lifted Tie Xinyuan and threw him heavily to the ground. “I don’t want any of your useless wheels. Just give me the original diagram.”

Tie Xinyuan was badly shaken, his nose struck and blood streaming down. His head buzzed, golden lights danced before his eyes. Even with Clever Child’s help, he could hardly stand steady. Wiping the blood from his nose, he struggled to say, “Only through constant revision can the best tools be made. This diagram of the Divine Arm Bow is itself the result of countless corrections.”

The burly man sneered. “I don’t believe you brats are capable of such things. I’ll give you one more hour—if the diagram isn’t ready, I’ll snap your necks myself.”

Somehow, the fox had crept to the doorway, yelping anxiously, pacing back and forth but not daring to enter. The burly man chuckled, picked up a teacup, and flung it. It struck the fox’s head; the animal slumped limply to the ground. Tie Xinyuan gave a heart-wrenching cry, rushing toward the fox, but was once again seized and thrown before the battered table. The man pressed down on his shoulders: “The fox isn’t dead. I held back. It seems you care for it—if so, get back to that diagram. Otherwise, I’ll skin it right now...”

Tie Xinyuan glared at the man, but seeing Clever Child place the fox with the other children, he grudgingly picked up the brush and resumed drawing.

The man laughed, grabbed his kettle, and drained it in one gulp. The heat was stifling. Sweat dripped from Tie Xinyuan’s neck and temples, rolling down in rivulets. Clever Child could barely keep up with the handkerchief, which was quickly soaked.

The fox revived, and hid among the children, afraid to come out. Even at a distance, Tie Xinyuan could see blood seeping from its brow.

The burly man seemed exhausted, struggling to stay awake. He hadn’t slept since yesterday, and the heat only deepened his drowsiness. Impatient, he got up to peer over Tie Xinyuan’s shoulder. The overall shape of the crossbow had taken form; the boy was consulting with the Li family lad over measurements. Progress was slow, but steady.

In truth, the man admired Tie Xinyuan; in his eyes, anyone who could recreate such a complex diagram from memory was a genius.

If only they were in Xiping Prefecture rather than the Song capital, he would have delivered this boy to the general as a treasure to be cherished. Xiping Prefecture boasted strong soldiers and horses, but lacked the Divine Arm Crossbow. Li Yuanhao kept it for his personal guard and trusted captains; no other Xixia units were equipped with it. Were it not so lethal to cavalry, the generals of Xiping would have no reason to yield to Li Yuanhao in everything...

For some reason, Xifeng Simeng’s mind was suddenly filled with the image of the snow-capped Helan Mountains, sunlight gilding the peaks—a memory from his childhood, when his father showed him the golden mountain. His father said it was the sacred mountain of the Wolf God’s tribe, and only the strongest men could ascend and offer tribute to the gods.

A sudden, searing pain shot up his arm. Looking down, he saw a mottled wolf biting his wrist. Terrified, Xifeng Simeng began to cry, calling for his father, but saw instead a white wolf holding his father’s severed head, staring coldly at him.

“This man is odd—just moments ago he was smashing things in a rage, now he’s crying. Yuan, are you sure he’s not truly mad?” said Clever Child.

Tie Xinyuan sat beside the fox, looking glum. “Hurry and nail his hands and feet down. I’m worried he’ll snap out of it soon; if he does, we’re all doomed. You’ve seen it—he could break a tree with a punch.”

Simeng cried for a while, then realized his body seemed to have grown; though wolves had torn his limbs, his strength returned. He struggled, but the head wolf’s gaze held him motionless.

Clever Child hammered long iron nails into the man’s limbs, but even so, he writhed constantly, eyes shut, blood soaking the floor.

“He’s too strong—if we don’t chop off his hands and feet, he’ll break free,” Clever Child said.

Tie Xinyuan fetched an axe and brought it down hard on the man’s wrist. The force wasn’t enough to sever it, exposing white bone instead.

Before Tie Xinyuan could strike again, Simeng’s eyes snapped open, and a beastly howl burst from his bloodied mouth. Startled, Tie Xinyuan raised the axe and swung it at Simeng’s brow, determined to end him—the only way to ensure their safety. If he failed, they would all be lost.

At the last instant, Simeng twisted his head; the axe buried itself deep in his cheek, piercing the eye socket, a gush of red and black fluid spurting forth.

He shrieked, his body convulsing on the bedboard as if struck by lightning. With a furious roar, he wrenched his arms free from the nails, blood spraying from his ankles as he tore himself loose and staggered upright—still bearing the axe in his face, drenched in blood, a fearsome sight.

Tie Xinyuan, seeing his arms break free, abandoned the axe and fled. Clever Child tried to rush over but was dragged away by Tie Xinyuan. A wounded beast was at its most dangerous.

The two boys and the fox sprinted from the house, darted through the grass, and upon spotting a well, Tie Xinyuan kicked the fox into it without hesitation, then both boys jumped in after.

It was a dry well, not deep. The fox scrambled into a nearby hole, and the boys followed, crawling on hands and knees after it. Only when Clever Child shut a small wooden door behind them did they collapse back-to-back, hearts pounding in their chests.

When Little Fortune lit a candle, the other children saw how pale the pair looked, white as sheets.

“How’s he still alive? We should have nailed the spikes into his skull,” Clever Child said, still shaken.

Tie Xinyuan nodded. “Lesson learned. Next time, act first. I thought that pinning his limbs would hold him and we’d get some answers—who he was, what he wanted, who sent him. I never imagined he’d be this ferocious.”

Clever Child nodded. “Still, I know where he’s from.”

Tie Xinyuan was surprised. “You do?”

“Of course. I’ve seen men like him before along Ganliang Road. Most were bald or nearly so. This one had a head of hair, so I didn’t realize at first.”

“You mean he’s from Western Xia?”

“Yes. I was under his arm for so long I nearly passed out from the stink of mutton on him. My father always said: if a man’s clean and doesn’t smell of sheep, he’s Han; if he reeks of mutton, he’s probably a barbarian.”

At that, Tie Xinyuan tackled Clever Child and started pummeling him. “It’s your fault for not keeping a clean trail, bringing villains from Western Xia after us. How will we ever have peace if this goes on?”

Clever Child covered his head and took the beating. After a while, when Tie Xinyuan stopped, he said miserably, “How is this my fault?”

Tie Xinyuan ignored him, pressed his ear to a pipe to listen, then sat back. “He’s rampaging upstairs. I just hope he keeps it up; with all that blood loss, maybe he’ll just die.”

Clever Child counted the children in the hideout again and nodded, satisfied. “They’re all just a bit frightened, no real harm done.”

Tie Xinyuan fetched his schoolbag, filled with dry biscuits he’d bought earlier, and signaled for Clever Child to distribute them among the children.

Seeing everyone eating happily, Clever Child asked, “Why did that man suddenly go mad, smashing things and then falling asleep?”

Tie Xinyuan winced. “Maybe he has epilepsy or something.”

Clever Child nodded and kept eating.

Tie Xinyuan lowered his biscuit and asked curiously, “You believe that?”

“Of course. If you say so, I believe it.”

PS: At this point, I suddenly realize my draft stockpile isn’t working with our current pace or context—some readers may have noticed. So, I’m discarding the old drafts and writing anew. Once these chapters are finished, I’ll post the old drafts publicly for everyone to judge. With respects, Ji Yu.