The fur on the back of Wukong’s neck stood straight up, as he sensed the barely leashed killing intent from Trip.

“Er… Mistress, I couldn’t just let them insult you like that…”

“I’ll deal with you later”, said Trip, as she reached across the table to retrieve her revolver.

“Ah, please wait, Honoured Sister!” shouted the Abbot, as he hugged the revolver to his chest with both hands.

At a loss, Trip’s hand paused in mid-air.

“Please, let us study your weapon for one night. Just one night! I swear on my life that it will be returned to you tomorrow morning!” pleaded the Abbot.

“Why should I allow it?” Trip’s voice was like an icy blade. Her hand, stretched across the table, seemed more like razor sharp claws ready to tear through the Abbot in order to reclaim what was hers. Brother Broad Plans and Brother Broad Wisdom reflexively gulped in fear, as cold sweat erupted from their backs. Even the Abbot hunched his shoulders a bit, making it seem as though he was trying very hard not to curl into a ball for self-protection.

“Sister Trip, it may not seem like it, but we are under the yoke of the Crimson Army. We have to produce weapons for them, or face utter destruction! The way we are now, there is no way we could withstand even the first attack from the Lieutenant stationed here, the Black Wind Demon, and his army. But with your six-shot pistol, if every single Monk here was armed with it, we could hold off the army forever!”

“... very well. You will return it to me by dawn tomorrow.”

There was no need to add an “or else”. The threat, no, the promise of dire consequences was obvious in her voice.

“Please excuse us. I would like to retire for the night.”

“Of course! Brother Broad Plans, please have someone show them to the guest quarters.” said the Abbot in a tone so ingratiating that it caused the hairs on Trips arms to stand up.

Immediately, Brother Broad Plans pulled a cord on the wall that rang a bell, summoning a young monk to the door, to lead Trip and Wukong away.

Without another word, Trip followed the young monk out of the Abbot’s quarters, through the cold stone corridors, down and up long flights of stairs towards the living quarters that Brother Mender had pointed out to them earlier. Not once did she even glance at Wukong, who followed along quietly behind her, head down, shoulders hunched, meek as a mouse.

On the way to the guest quarters, they passed by the living quarters of the monks. There were individual wooden huts, and also large barracks where double-decker beds arranged in rows could be seen through the windows.

At last, they arrived at a large wooden hut that was some distance away from the living quarters. It was larger and more ornate than the other individual, utilitarian-looking wooden huts they had seen. The roof and pillars were decorated with carvings of dragons, tigers, and bears. The back of the hut was facing a cliff, while around the front of the hut was an elegant sand and stone garden that gave a feeling of tranquility.

Unfortunately, that tranquility did nothing to promote any sense of serenity in Trip. Her expression was still that of a glacier trapping several thunderstorms.

The young monk had guided them all the way without daring to utter a single word. With lowered head, he indicated the door to the hut, bowed deeply, then quickly scurried away.

Pushing the door open, Trip saw a single room. On one side, there were two double-decker beds, with a footlocker each. On the other, there was a solid-looking wooden table with several wooden stools. On the table, was a jug filled with water, along with several earthenware cups. Along the walls, were several wooden shelves and cabinets.

With forceful, authoritative steps, Trip walked to the table and sat down on one of the wooden stools. After taking off her backpack and crossbow, she gripped her knee hard with one hand, as though restraining herself from doing something pointless yet satisfying, such as flipping the table. With her other hand, she indicated one of the empty stools, looked at Wukong, and said, “Sit.”

Wukong, who was still standing meekly beside the door after entering, said in an uncharacteristically low tone, “This follower does not dare.”

“Follower? What a good follower! Why did you reveal my revolver, my FATHER’S revolver, to the Abbot?”

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“Mistress, they were disrespecting you! As your follower, how could I allow that?”

“So you decided to snatch my precious weapon? Without asking for my consent?”

“Mistress, trust me, we can’t allow them to disrespect us! If they don’t respect us, they’ll walk all over us!”

“To hell with respect! I don’t need their respect! They can look down on us for all I care. After spending one night here, we would be gone, and most likely would never meet them ever again! What need do we have for their respect? Unless… by disrespecting me, they disrespected YOU, and THAT, you could not take!”

Wukong lowered his head and kept silent. It appeared that Trip’s words had hit their mark.

Trip let out a huge sigh. Together with the air, she exhaled her anger, and just like that, she became much calmer.

“Listen to me, Wukong. There is a time when showing off or intimidating others can be a great tactic. Just now, was NOT one of those times. I needed those monks to think that they had nothing to gain from us. But no, you had to compete with them, even though we are greatly outnumbered. If the Abbot decides to keep my revolver, how are we going to get it back? Can we win in a fight against hundreds or thousands of his monks?”

“You say that you are my follower, but I do not need a follower I cannot trust. I need someone dependable. If you’re sincere about helping me, then go reflect on your actions, and think about how you can do better.”

Like a chastised child, Wukong kept his head lowered, and slowly walked to sit on the floor in a corner of the room. With his back leaning against the wall, he sat in the lotus position, while placing his metal quarterstaff across his knees.

Trip took a few deep breaths, centering herself and recovering from having to speak so much. Then, she took a drink out of her canteen rather than from the jug of water on the table, as she surveyed the room once more. With a sudden movement, she stood up, then started moving furniture around.

Twenty minutes later, the room looked ready to withstand a siege. The table had been turned on its side and placed before the back corner of the room where Wukong was sitting. The rest of the furniture had been arranged on either side of the table, leaving a small gap wide enough for one person to pass through.

In effect, she had created a bottleneck that would force any attackers to only be able to fight them one or two at a time. At least for a while. When the attackers finally got around to dismantling the bottleneck of furniture, there was a window at the back of the room for them to escape through.

At the door was a trap fashioned from string and sharpened stool legs. Anybody stepping through the door without warning would be thoroughly impaled.

Satisfied that she had done what she could to prepare, Trip began her nightly physical training regime, ending it with the meditation session accompanied with orange lights that gradually turned white, leaving her fully recovered.

Dressing herself in her black duster, with her knives, crossbow, and backpack near at hand, she hunkered down behind the table to sleep.

***

As the hour neared midnight, back at the Abbot’s quarters, the Abbot had asked Brother Broad Wisdom to summon his team to help examine the revolver.

After almost an hour of much scratching of heads and chins, stroking of beards and moustaches (not each other’s, thank you very much), hemming and hawing, Brother Broad Wisdom finally completed the impromptu discussion with his team. He turned towards the Abbot, but still hesitated to speak.

“Well?” prompted the Abbot.

“Er… Father, it’s like this. You see, this six-shot pistol is deceptively sophisticated. The chambers are exactly the same size and distance from each other, the parts interlock and fit together precisely, and there’s this weird spiral pattern on the inside of the barrel that we can’t make sense of. Even the bullets… we had to take one out and dismantle it, and it’s… we simply have never seen a bullet like this before! There’s more than just gunpowder in there!”

“So, what are you saying? Do you need more people?”

“Father, I’m saying that we need at least a few months to study this, before we can even start a trial and error process to make the machines that can make the components for the pistol and bullets!”

“Months? We don’t have months! You heard that woman, she wants it back tomorrow morning! You saw how that damned monkey demon handled Brother Broad Plans! Who knows what else it’s capable of!”

“Father, please, it’s not a problem at all.” interjected Brother Broad Plans. “We simply have to… remove Sister Trip and the monkey demon. Then we’ll have all the time we need to study this six-shot pistol.”

“Remove? Oh, er… now that’s a great idea. Good solution. Ahem, well, make sure it’s done quietly. And don’t let Brother Mender or any of his people find out about it. In fact, best make it look like an accident! We have our image to consider, after all.” As the Abbot said all that, he managed to maintain the virtuous air of a benevolent saint. As though he had not given his approval for the murder of his guests.

Brother Broad Plans smiled in such twisted delight, that his smile was more of a sneer, and his eyes became sharp triangular slits. It was obvious that he was eagerly anticipating his revenge for the indignities he had suffered earlier.

“Worry not, Father. Please, let me take care of it.”

“Good, good, I’ll leave it to you then.” said the Abbot, who then laughed heartily. His laughter was quickly followed by that of Brother Broad Plans, Brother Broad Wisdom, and the other monks in the room.

Although their laughter was loud and unrestrained, very little of it escaped the room. Such were the precautions the Abbot had taken to ensure that none could eavesdrop on the schemes hatched within his quarters.

-- Chapter 13, End --