This Flower-Faced Ghost Hand was something of a legend in the capital.
According to tales, in the old city’s Bawangfen Hutong, there lived a figure known as the Flower-Faced Ghost Hand, a master of all manner of disguise techniques. His skill in this craft was said to be unmatched in history, and calling him the best in China wouldn’t be an overstatement.
But these were mostly stories from decades ago. With the changing times, traditional artisans like him had fallen out of favour, fading into the realm of legend.
Even someone like Deacon Zhikong, who’d grown up in the capital’s hutongs, had only heard the tale from his grandparents, never laying eyes on the real person.
At this point, Xu Fei’s expression shifted.
“I’ve waited this long, and you’re telling me it’s just to spin some vague yarn to fob me off?”
“No, no, no, Master Jun, don’t get mad, hear me out!”
Zhikong’s explanation led to what followed.
Originally, Zhikong had dismissed it as some odd childhood story.
It wasn’t until he joined the Red Buddha Society by chance that he realised this legendary figure wasn’t just a myth, but real!
No one might know the Flower-Faced Ghost Hand’s origins, but lately, his whereabouts were firmly in the Red Buddha Society’s grasp.
That’s why Zhikong dared suggest it, otherwise, he wouldn’t have the guts to toy with Xu Fei, not even with ten lives to spare.
Hearing all this, Xu Fei nodded.
He reckoned it wasn’t a bad idea. As Zhikong had pointed out, thanks to the wanted notice and his own high-profile antics, Xu Fei was now a well-known face to the Red Buddha Society. Anyone could spot him a mile off, so waltzing in casually was out of the question.
At the same time, Xu Fei’s curiosity about this Flower-Faced Ghost Hand was piqued, eager to see a traditional craftsman in an age of rampant high-tech.
So he pressed on, “What are you waiting for then? Lead the way!”
Zhikong didn’t dare dawdle, quickly getting up and guiding Xu Fei to the black Hummer.
With Zhikong’s directions, Xu Fei drove through the capital’s streets and alleys, finally reaching Bawangfen Hutong in the west of the city.
Like before, the hutong was narrow. Xu Fei parked the car off to the side and opted to go in on foot.
The two walked one behind the other, deep into the hutong, until Zhikong glanced at a shabby courtyard on the left, its door marked with the number 33. He lit up with excitement, “Bawangfen Hutong, Number 33, this is it, Master Jun!”
Xu Fei knocked on the door, waiting ages with no response from inside. Even after knocking again, it was no use.
Finally, out of options, Xu Fei pointed at the courtyard wall, barely over two metres high. Zhikong clearly got the hint.
Zhikong leapt up first, planting his feet and vaulting onto the wall. Xu Fei followed, but before he could steady himself, he heard Zhikong’s startled yelp.
“Bloody hell! Master Jun, look!”
Standing on the wall, Xu Fei peered down and saw about twenty-odd people in the courtyard, all staring up at them with eerily cold expressions.
