Second Chance

Chapter 9 - Confronting the Old Monk

Upon entering the monastery’s garden, Jake and the boys saw Master Muk Long sitting alone. He was sipping tea at the small round teak table outside the pavilion surrounded by pine trees at the eastern corner, his eyes on the courtyard before him. There were six young men sitting silently on the ground – the eldest one didn’t look a day older than thirty – all bare-chested and muscular. Suddenly two of them rose and bowed to the old monk before bowing to each other.

From their actions, Jake smelled an approaching fight.

He was proven right when Lanky and Fatty held his arms, signalling him to halt.

“Please stay put for a little while, Mr Lone,” Lanky said softly. “We are just in time to witness the last of our seniors’ sparring session for today.”

“Who do you think will win this time – Lam-sing or Little Lung?” Fatty whispered to Lanky, looking excited.

“Why, Little Lung, of course. He’s the best of the lot.”

“Which one is Little Lung?” Jake asked, curious.

“The shorter one,” Lanky answered.

As soon as Master Muk Long made a hand gesture, the two men lunged at each other with thundering fists and lightning-fast kicks. The other four monks stood up and began cheering on the combatants.

Even though Lam-sing was a head taller, it didn’t bother Little Lung one bit and he seemed to have the situation under control. He was truly the aggressor with his more solid punches and agility. However, Lam-sing was relentless, his long arms blocking blows and keeping him out of harm’s way. Eventually he found an opening and moved in for the kill with a flying kick at Little Lung’s head.

The super-swift Little Lung ducked, and as his opponent flew over him, Little Lung landed a punch to his groin that sent him spinning back to earth and groaning in agony.

Jake winced, subconsciously squeezing his legs together. Although he was not the one who got hit, he could imagine the excruciating pain that Lam-sing was going through right now. Holy cow, this looks more like a game of death than a sparring session, he thought.

Little Lung waited for a few moments until Lam-sing got back his bearings, then helped him to his feet, and the two bowed to the old monk. Thereafter they hugged one another warmly, a broad grin on their faces. The small audience including Master Muk Long and the two boys cheered and applauded. The six monks then adjourned to the praying hall.

“Well, Mr Lone, what do you think of the fight?” Lanky asked enthusiastically.

“An awesome display of their skills,” Jake responded. “To think that their hands, their legs, in fact their whole body can be turned into a deadly weapon … it is simply out of this world. Frankly, I have never seen anyone fight like this before.” As he spoke, he realized he had to tread carefully with his next move – in the event of matters between Master Muk Long and him coming to a head, he only had four bullets left to defend himself while the old monk had six deadly martial artists by his side.

When the two men finally came face to face, Master Muk Long was astonished to learn that Jake was the owner of the abandoned horse. And the first thing he asked was: “I hope you didn’t encounter the witch in the woods, did you?”

Remembering what Chin-ling had written in her note, Jake lied, “No, I never met her. Like I’d told your two boys, I went for an outing and my horse strayed while I was having a nap.”

Master Muk Long was somewhat sceptical of Jake’s explanation – it was a flimsy one. Nevertheless he sighed in relief. “Amituofo, she is … err, I mean, you are safe.”

There was a brief silence. Jake, a keen observer, found the old monk’s question and reaction rather odd; he sounded and appeared anxious, especially when he made the speech error, as if he was more concerned about Chin-ling’s welfare than his. Why would he show compassion for her? – they are adversaries, he mulled. This old-timer is getting to be quite an intriguing character indeed. Mystifying even.

“But I did bump into the Yeti,” Jake continued. “And I would have been dead if not for your two boys coming to my aid. They are truly very brave.” He looked at Lanky and Fatty who were standing beside him, and patted them on their shoulders.

The twins beamed with pride.

Master Muk Long shrugged and gave Jake a half-smile. “Ah, yes, that detestable creature. She is the bane of our efforts to go after the witch. You’re very fortunate to escape from her, Mr Lone; the Yeti, after having tasted the flesh of man, has a great appetite for human beings now.” He paused and turned his attention to the two boys. With a commanding tone, he said, “You are dismissed. And Lanky, go to the stable and bring the horse here – on the double!”

Then out of courtesy, the old monk invited Jake to join him for a cup of tea, expecting to receive a polite “no” for an answer – he had gathered from Tong Wing-mun that Jake was an atheist and the presence of religious men always made him feel uncomfortable. So when Jake gleefully took up his offer and pulled a chair, he was completely bowled over.

“I can see all your disciples are skillful fighters, Master Muk,” Jake said, as the old monk poured him a cup of tea. “Did they learn to fight like that from you?”

“No, no, of course not,” Master Muk Long replied, smiling and shaking his head. “We were from the Shaolin Temple before we came here. There, the monks, who are martial artists themselves, taught us the various forms of kung fu for good health and self-defence during our journey to enlightenment. If you’d seen them sparring just now, each has his own fighting style; that’s his speciality.”

“Yes, I saw it; very interesting indeed,” Jake said, sipping his tea. There was a glimmer in his eyes – this was the break that he had been waiting for. “What about you? What is your speciality?”

Master Muk Long grinned. “Oh, I’m afraid I don’t have any.”

“You, the master of six disciples who are proficient in the martial arts, a non-fighter?” Jake scoffed. “I find your statement very hard to swallow.”

“I mean I am not into the physical sense of it,” Master Muk Long clarified. “Mine is a different kind of martial art which was developed from Tai-chi, a gentle and graceful form of exercise. Because this technique is so ancient, not many people have heard of it.”

“Is it called Dim-Mak?”

The old monk raised an eyebrow. “For a man who is ignorant of the martial arts, you certainly are very insightful. How did you know?”

“Oh, just a lucky guess,” Jake replied, faking innocence.

“Yes, you guess correctly,” Master Muk Long said, drinking his tea to the last drop then pouring himself another cup. “The knowledge of this technique remains in seclusion to this day. Not even my disciples know I practise it – they thought it was Tai-chi. But since you are a very close friend of our benefactor Mr Tong, I’ll let you in on my secret.”

Jake glowered at the old monk silently – keep talking, you son-of-a-b***h, you’re getting warm.

“Dim-Mak was created many centuries ago by a Taoist monk named Zhang San-feng, the same man who developed the original Tai-chi form,” Master Muk Long added, unaware of Jake’s motive. “At first it complimented acupuncture to cure certain illness but was later turned into a weapon to cause death. Due to this, its technique was taught only to the most trustworthy students.”

“Presently, how many in Beijing are still practising Dim-Mak?”

“There used to be three, but two had since died, the last about a year ago from old age. I am the only one left.”

“Have you ever killed anyone with your Dim-Mak skills, Master Muk?”

The old monk, taken aback by Jake’s forthright question, did not respond to it. Instead he cast the ex-gunman a long look.

“Why are you here, Mr Lone?” he finally spoke, his tone sounding more like a demand than a query.

Permitting himself a slight smile, Jake leaned forward and said, “You invited me for tea, remember?”

“That is true, but I’ve been reliably informed by Mr Tong that you dislike socializing with the preaching fraternity,” Master Muk Long pointed out to Jake. “Yet here you are, chatting and drinking tea with me. It is so plain obvious that you are doing this for a reason. And why are you so keen on Dim-Mak all of a sudden? Bringing up this topic has reopened old wounds for me.” Having said that, he stared daggers into Jake, as if warning him to refrain from asking further.

Jake sat back and instead of feeling intimidated, expanded his smile to a full-blown one, his expression completing his thought: Perfect! My first shot has clearly rattled the old sod. He then took a slurp of his tea. “Good tea,” he commented as he refilled his cup. “It has an herbaceous aroma to it, just like the ones in my plantation.”

“It is your tea, compliments of Mr Tong,” Master Muk Long said, drumming his fingers on the table impatiently – what is taking Lanky so long? He had grown a distaste for Jake’s company and he wished for their conversation to end.

But Jake was having none of it.

Like a chameleon, his smile disappeared in a blink. He turned solemn and his narrowed eyes pervaded a sense of ominousness. “Look at me, Master Muk,” he kind of growled. “I want you to pay close attention to what I’m going to tell you.”

The old monk shook off the shudder that passed through him and focused on Jake rather than on the appearance of Lanky with the horse in the courtyard.

“I had a wife,” Jake began his narration. “Her name was Li Mei-suet. She was the best thing that ever happened to me. Before knowing her I was a hired gun, a ruthless killing machine who would get pleasure from watching his victim’s brains getting blown out. She helped change my world, made me realize that the only source of joy and happiness in life is to love and be loved. Everything seemed to be moving in the right direction for us. But it was not to be. Five months after we got married, she died. The doctors said it was heart disease. She had just turned twenty-five. I was devastated beyond words. That was about three years ago.” He paused and took a sip of his tea. “You asked me why I am so keen on Dim-Mak. Well, Master Muk, it’s like this: only yesterday did I discover that my wife was actually killed by a Dim-Mak strike. And I believe her murderer is still here.”

Having said that, Jake stopped speaking and drank his tea again, this time with a big gulp. Then he waited in grim silence for the old monk to react.

Finally Master Muk Long crossed his arms at his chest and asked in a raised voice, “What are you implying, Mr Lone? Are you accusing me of murder? Where is your evidence?”

It was Jake’s turn not to respond. Under the sunlight, sitting close to him, he could see droplets on Master Muk Long’s bald pate.

It’s a cold day yet he is sweating, he thought. This means only one thing: he is nervous.

“Your silence tells me your so-called evidence is pure hot air,” Master Muk Long snapped. “Please mind your words. I am in no mood for tasteless jokes at the moment.”

“On the contrary, you have given me all the proof I need,” Jake replied. “Thank you kindly. You have been very cooperative.”

Master Muk Long c****d his head to one side. “W … What do you mean?” he spluttered.

Jake answered his question with a sinister grin. He was about to pull his gun on the old monk when he heard the clip-clopping sound of a horse’s hooves. He frowned – Lanky had picked the wrong moment to emerge with Flash.

At once the tense atmosphere was alleviated, and Master Muk Long stood up. “Your horse is here,” he said tersely. “Goodbye and have a pleasant day, Mr Lone.” At the same breath, confusion held sway of his mind – was Jake really that brilliant in detective work or was he playing a mind game? He felt totally at a loss, but this was not his immediate concern. Right now he just wanted the man out of his sight.

Jake got up too and after positioning the knapsack on his back, adjusted his coat. “Likewise, Master Muk,” he reciprocated. “And you have my profound gratitude for taking good care of my stallion.” Then as he sauntered past the old monk, he delivered a parting shot: “Oh, by the way, does Chin-ling know you are her father?”

Master Muk Long stared open-mouthed at Jake, his face turning white. “This is preposterous!” he managed to blurt out before storming off.

Jake rewarded himself with a smug smile; he was right on target. He first suspected the father-daughter relationship when Master Muk Long fretted about Chin-ling’s well-being. After that he noticed the old monk’s long delicate nose and full lips bore a strong resemblance to her. Putting two and two together, it was not difficult for him to come up with this conclusion.

“What did you say to Master, Mr Lone?” Lanky asked, as he helped the ex-gunman mount up. “He looked pretty upset.”

“I told him a joke, but he couldn’t catch the humour,” Jake responded, winking at the midget. “Tsk, tsk, your master is always so serious.”

Lanky grinned. “Will you be coming back?”

“Oh, you can count on it, Lanky. And much sooner than you think.”