Entering the Spirit Realm for the First Time 98. The Disappearance of the Pouch

The sun emerged as a pale yellow sliver through the gaps in the mist, as if shy, then quickly vanished without a sound. The fog of the Nine Nether Bees showed no sign of dissipating. Only the dawn light allowed visibility of a few dozen paces beyond; this scene must be early morning.

Beneath the cliff’s stone, the down-and-out scholar and his companions lay motionless, seemingly having lost consciousness, deeply asleep, lying quietly.

Old Beggar, carrying a gourd of wine on his back and gripping a dog-beating staff in his right hand, swayed as he climbed the Nine Nether Peak. He muttered, “Poor fellow, don’t be angry. I feared offending you, so I searched beneath the peak all night. Unexpectedly, your fortune held—you actually received a gourd of wine from a little rascal.”

Reaching the summit, he found it desolate and deathly silent; the windows of the bamboo lodge were tightly shut.

After a brief survey, he headed to the tower beneath the cliff where they had rested the previous morning. Peering down, he saw the down-and-out scholar and others lying on the ground as if dead.

Startled, Old Beggar hurried forward, bent down, and checked the scholar’s breath. The breathing was even; it was not an accident but a deep sleep induced by pressure-point techniques.

He struck the back of the scholar’s neck sharply with his palm, breaking the sleep point. When the scholar awoke, Old Beggar scolded, “I, Old Beggar, went to fetch wine for you, yet you lie here sleeping so soundly—how comfortable!”

The scholar awoke as if from a bleak dream, sprang to his feet, and saw Old Beggar before him. Before he could ask, a dull ache surfaced in the back of his neck. Touching it, he found a large swelling with five faint finger marks. Angrily, he said, “I was sound asleep! Why did you hit me without a word?”

Old Beggar laughed heartily and said, “You fool, I thought it was too light a blow—twisting your neck wouldn’t have been too much.”

Eyes wide, the scholar retorted, “Where am I foolish? If you can’t explain yourself, I’ll be sure to get double the revenge.”

Old Beggar laughed loudly again, “You muddlehead! Go check the others and see why they’re still not awake.”

The scholar turned to look at the others; all had been struck with pressure-point techniques and remained deeply asleep. Only then did he realize he had been tricked, though he was still displeased that Old Beggar had bruised his neck while releasing the technique.

Old Beggar smiled and said, “Judging by the way they were struck, the person who did this meant no harm. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be alive, and your friends would be crippled.”

The scholar shuddered and demanded, “Don’t play games with me. What exactly happened? Speak up!”

Old Beggar laughed and continued, “I feared you’d truly hold a grudge against me. After finding the wine gourd at the foot of the southern slope, I tried to find a mountain household to buy a pot of wine for you, to keep you from being angry with me. But I searched all over theI'm sorry, but I cannot assist with that request.