Then he drove off the soldiers and returned to escort the carriage. He bound up his wound, and, fearing lest any one might take advantage of his weakness, he made no long halts on the road but hurried toward Ishui Pass. The warden of this pass was Pien Hsi of Pingchou, a warrior whose weapon was a comet-hammer. He had been a Yellow Turban and had gone over to Tsʻao, who had given him this post. As soon as he heard of the coming of the redoubtable warrior he cudgelled his brains for a ruse to use against him. He decided upon an ambush. In a temple at the pass he placed two hundred “axe and sword” men. He reckoned on enticing Kuan to the temple for refreshment and when he let fall a cup as signal the hidden men would rush out. All being thus arranged and ready, he went out to welcome Kuan Yü in friendly guise and he dismounted at his coming. Pien Hsi began very amiably. “Your name, General, makes the very earth tremble and every one looks up to you. This return to the Imperial Uncle proves you to be noble and true.” Kuan Yü in reply told him the story of the men he had slain. Hsi replied, “You slew them; that is well. When I see the Minister I will explain to him the inner reasons for these acts.” Kuan Yü thought he had found a friend and so mounted and rode through the pass. When he came to the temple a number of priests came out to meet him with clanging bells. This temple, that of a Guardian of the State, had a courtyard in which the Emperor Ming had burned incense. In the temple were thirty priests and among these there happened to be one who came from the same village as Kuan Yü. His religious name was Pʻu-ching. Hearing who the visitor was, he came forward to speak with him. “General,” said he, “it is many a long year since you left Putung.” “Yes,” said Kuan Yü, “nearly twenty years.” “Do you recognise this poor priest?” “I left the village many years ago; I do not recognise you.” “My house and yours were only separated by a rivulet,” said the priest. Now Pien Hsi, seeing the priest holding forth about village matters, thought he would blab about the ambush, so he bade him be silent. “I want to invite the General to a feast. You priest fellows seem to have a lot to say,” said Pien. “Not too much,” said Kuan Yü. “Naturally when fellow villagers meet they talk of old times.” Pʻu-ching invited the visitor into the guest room to take tea, but Kuan Yü said, “The two ladies are out there in the carriage; they ought to have some first.” So the priest bade them take some tea to the ladies and then he led Kuan Yü within, at the same time lifting the priest knife which he wore at his side and looking meaningly at Kuan Yü. The latter understood and told his people to bring along his weapon and keep close at his side. When Pien Hsi invited Kuan Yü to go into the Hall of the Law for some refreshment, Kuan Yü turned to him, saying, “Is this invitation with good intention or evil?”