SCP International

In the era of Yongle, there was a fisherman in Sānshān who was renowned for his talent. Every net he cast came back full, and so all desired to share his oars. A person of small character envied him and hid soybeans in his boat. When he next braved the waves and wind, the talented man battled to control the oar and mast, for the boat seemed to go mad. At that moment, a black fish, maybe thirty chǐ in length, appeared suddenly in the sea; it led the way ahead, and the boat followed. In an instant scales swarmed around them to accompany and protect the fisherman, and for a moment a rainbow crossed the sky and the rain and wind dispersed. Soon enough the sky emerged on one side, and a tall, ragged cliff, exuberant and luxuriant, emerged — it was a mountain. The talent raised his oar, astonished and helpless, not knowing where he was, only that he was under the water. He looked around, and found his surroundings to resemble an old port. There were many lookout towers, covered with spiralling wisterias. Aged beasts leaned over the beams, peeking at the exuberance of the old days. Soon enough, a girl clothed in black had come from afar and bowed. Her name was Hǎi-Ruò zǐ (海若子), which means "child of Rjok the ocean god", and she had transformed from a black shark. She said that if someone were to meet a torrent, he could pray to her and call her name, and she would respond and save him. The talented fisherman desired to speak, and the mershark emerged with a flourish, driving away the shadows. She raised a few pearls and wove them into her path. The fishermen thus returned to their home and told the others what had happened. From then on, whenever the fishermen met with turbulent waters or inclement skies, they would shout: "Rjok, Rjok!" Then the waves would calm and they would reach the other side, which the people of the time called Rjokang, which means "harbor of Rjok". Note that Rjok means "to follow", and also the name of ocean god.

Here, the wind and mist are clear, the low waves cling to the stone, the trees are eternally verdant, the flowers do not wither, the weather is clear and bright, and the passage of time is fleeting — it is truly a pleasant place for boaters to take a rest. It is the city from which Han people outside the eighteen provinces opened up all the forking boundaries; those living in the strange lands of the five continents come and go here. Ships on the four seas, whether they meet a torrent or desire to reach their destination quickly, will pray to the gods; if the gods sense it, they can be trusted to be of help; though in different mirrors, in the blink of an eye, they will meet here. Upon entering, one sees towering mountains and dark droplets of jade rain. One cannot reach the other side of these mountains alone; those who leave the port exit its domain in the blink of an eye. Once one travels by boat for an unknown number of lǐ, the wind changes suddenly, the sky and earth change in appearance, the stars part at the boundary and become vast, and one is closer to his destination.

Those not of our kind can also enter; of them, those who do not respect the Three Teachings draw the ire of the gods. Going southwest from Qīng'ōu Bay for seven lǐ one encounters the Capitan, in stone, like a mighty warship, with its sails, ropes, chambers, cannons, and planks still intact with markings on them; men in elaborate robes hold their weapons and scurry about, uneasy and confused, staring at their surroundings. What carved this? It is not manmade, but natural. When the western farangi, with their iron coffins came to Nányáng, they used their swords and guns to slice off the myriad lands, massacring the people in their endless greed. They tried to discover the secret of the land, wishing to seize it for themselves with their troops for their colonial aims. But they still worshipped their own god, which they called Deus, and thus in their pride and arrogance they were forbidden to enter. The Academia Científica, the foreigners' equivalent of the Abnormality Institute, tried many times unsuccessfully; in the end, they commanded the Chinese under their rule to fool their god in an attempt to cheat the order of the world. They ordered a man named Wāng to carry out their plan; he fasted for three days, burning spices to show his intention. Then he set out on a ship and entered the outer waters of Rjokang. But in response to his treachery, a punishment came: every chǐ he sailed would be like sinking into a thick swamp, stiff and difficult to move; in not more than a few days the rum had run out, and both the crew and the ship had turned to stone, with only two or three people able to escape this fate. Thus it cannot be said that the gods observed nothing — They are all-seeing.

Rjokang extends for about seven hundred lǐ. At the northern extreme is a tall mountain, known as Mount Shū (Mountain Trance) or Mount Tàipíng (Mountain Giantscreen). It is myriad rèn tall, and it is so steep that humans cannot climb it. On its peak are beautiful trees and precious stones; around it hundreds of kinds of birds sing and dance, and occasionally one can hear the cry of a phoenix. Throughout its face one can find strange stones and ethereal caves, or the places where mythical creatures come and go; often, one finds people who have lost their way home; those from Zaitun, Shantou, Panyu, Penghu, Gumi, Old Harbor or one of the many other ports who have veered off course and in the wilderness entered Rjokang from their course without a plan. At the top of the mountain is a temple gate, which shines a divine light at night that fills heaven and earth, illuminating faraway lands like a bright lamp; in the evening calm the water flows here, the falls so clear as to be formless, the ripples reflecting the shining clouds ever so stunning and far away; so misty and pleasant to the ear that one appears to be staring into the void and listening to the music of immortals. Sometimes one can see a red wave; the good observers through the Westerners' telescopes say it is a carp, but do not know where it comes from. The carp is said to jump up as if it desires to reach the door of heaven; thus the people call it the Lóngmén, or "Dragon Gate". The stream proceeds south through three mountains and two hills, and when it comes out into the sunlight swirls and is abundant in the color of the forest for a hundred lǐ. Then past Zhāoqíqiū it splits into three rivers, the Gǔlù, the Huáluò, and the Pǔlóng, which flow another forty lǐ to the ocean; the left flows into Dōngpǔ Bay, the middle into the Mershark Bay and the right into Qīng'ōu Bay, which all have inhabited coasts. The city reaches from the interior up to here; this is Rjokang.

There is in Rjokang the Wǔfāngfǔ, or the Mansion of Five Directions, which covers six mú, stacked to two hundred seventy chǐ, adorned with colorful banners and a heavy, serene door, with corridors decorated with elaborate curtains; its wondrousness is evident. In the past, it was the home of an immortal; now, it is restored and used as a public office.

There is Tiānfēimiào, or the Shrine of the Heavenly Maiden, a hundred and seven steps from the eastern peak of Hǔyéqiū, or Old Tiger Peak. It is said that in the fifth year of Jiajing, Kāng the woodcutter saw a beautiful lady riding a pale tiger pass through this place, and suddenly a clear stream began to flow like a river, and a fairy sailed down in a boat and disappeared along with the water. In the seventh year, the lord of the prefecture began to build a temple here, and two tigers came but did not harm the people, merely dwelling within the temple, and they were venerated as divine tigers by those who came after.

There is Dùwūtán, or Lake of Suffered Crows, fifteen lǐ east of the bluestone marker on Zhāoqíqīu, or Banner Peak. It is half a lǐ across and black as the night; its water is sticky and thick and hard to collect, but when collected can sustain a lamp; this is the "oil" that the author of the Dream Pool Essays spoke of. Whenever it is placed in a container or scooped, the remains of bones appear at the bottom; it is not known of what these bones are, and they have not been identified. Some say these are evil bones from hell, and filth flows from them that does not subside, and does not touch the bottom; strange sounds can be heard from it. Even so, brave people collect from it, carry it, hide it, and use it.

There is the Yèkūquán, or Spring of Night Weeping, which is by the side of Yìlíng Pavilion on Hūyuè Mountain. It bubbles up into a pool, and at dusk its flow sounds like murmuring. At night one can see some white mists, which looks like men of ancient times, playing weiqi under the shelter of the pavilion. Some time latter, one of shadow players may throw a chess piece on the ground, jumping into the pool. The people cannot stand next to the Pavilion for long, or the remain ghosts would hook their souls away to continue the game, leaving only the wanderering corpses. When the rooster crows three times, everything gone in smoke.

There is Lù'érxī, or Fawn Brook, which is in the forest three lǐ west of Xīnxiāng, where a silent stream pours. People who wish to cross it or drink from it must ward off misfortune by paying respects facing north. One may only cross the stream three times in a day; those who cross a fourth time disappear. Somebody said that the fact of this incident was the fairies appearing from the shadows transfering the disrespectful guys to other places, such as Mong Pong. The stream's water can cure light illnesses, and beasts often come to drink from it. If one encounters those that speak like humans, or humaniod creatures that ask one's secrets, one must reply to them, but avoid speaking too much or for too long and never reveal one's name.

There is the Liánlǐ Peach Forest, at the top of Zhāoqíqīu. Fèi Mójié, of the remnants of Tungning; Wū Xiānchéng, head of the Gōngxuán branch of the Chee Kung Tong; and Mù Líbó, leader of the Heshun Kongsi, all gathered here using abnormal artifacts. Raising a large banner above the Jiàn tree, paying their respects below it, they praised to the heavens. Here the Southern Abnormality Institute came together, becoming the Three Enclosures Alliance. But as time progressed, today's people recognize the trees as good sources of wood and use it for firewood; the old wilderness is filled with new greenery that breaks through the soil.

The expanse of this fruitful land is filled with an inexhaustible number of wondrous marvels; the rest can be found in the original text.

For a long time Rjokang had no ruler; each region had its residents, many of whom had grievances. A great man named Luó Sùqiū was born, they say, on Zhūyá; he had saved a carp in a market of the Lí people. Years later he desired to cross to Nányáng, and on his way he met with a group of Japanese pirates and was tied up on their vessel. Then a red jiāo appeared out of the water and towered over the pirates' ship; though many of them were magicians and used all their strongest techniques they could not leave a mark on it. In an instant the dragon crushed the ship with its tail, curling it around Luó and bringing him away. Then it landed in Rjokang and leaving behind one of its scales disappeared and was never seen again. Luó held the scale and suddenly clutched his chest, for he had grown a large, sharp-pointed tail, as if he were a jiāo-man, and his body resounded with a strange power that could change the weather. When he placed the scale down he returned to an ordinary man. The days and months passed and Luó remained in Rjokang, allowing the dragon's way to prosper and bringing his power down on those who plotted against it, driving spies off the island and resolving the difficulties of those in need; the people respected him and referred to him as Old Dragon-Head, and made him the first Lord of the City. In the end he passed away, leaving the dragon's scale to his successor; it has hence been passed down since.

Now the city is ruled by the factions, among which the most eminent are the Three Enclosures Alliance, the Yánfú Kongsi, the Jiǔyáng Sect, the Jīlóng Sect, the Xuánluó Faction, the Huànmiàohuá Five Fingers; they are all excommunicated by the Qing court. Whenever the lord of the prefecture returned Heaven, the people of these factions choose one of their own to lead the city, who outsiders call the Great Ruler, but they call the Lord of the Red Scale. Under the lord are four who hold treasures; they are the White Fan, Golden Blade, Copper Scale and Violet Lamp; they handle records and military matters, the court and the treasury, payments and festivities. Then there is the Qiāolán Bureau, where the leaders of the factions and the tradespeople of all kinds meet. Below these are the ministers, who are not major enough to mention.

In singing while climbing a mountain, drinking while leaning against a rail, idly chatting against the wind, or looking out over the distance, the towers and platforms reach to the sky, the waves and currents extend far away; the men of mystic nature flaunt their talents, through the clouds they do not part. Carriages and horses reside here, where it is extravagant and flourishing. The city discusses other places' curiosities, and it is easy to overhear them. Steam and fragrance emanate from the shops, where people exchange drinks happily; a hundred people speak the same tongue, yet in their own accents. Once again I look into the distance across the clouds, sails rolling across the tranquil sea for a thousand xún; the swarms of boats resembling arrows, which all desire to strike their target of profit. Turning back to the city, the blinding brilliance clears; filled with new greenery, the natural obstructions grow. Looking left I see the miracle-working doctors' courtyard and a forest of apricot trees surrounding a well of oranges; looking right I see the Kuiyang sect's fancy residences, shadowed by the sparse fence. Then the rivers diverge, their water irrigating the fields; I see raised paths around fields with their troughs and ridges stretch to the horizon. Oxen and horses run, the stars shift in the sky; suddenly the singing stops and the lanterns enter the city. Yet I have seen colorful sights atop the platforms and pavilions. Then I suddenly felt I was fall into the flashes of runninghorse lamp, and the aleidoscopic panorama and noise continued through the night…

In the thirty-seventh year of Shi Huangdi, Xu Fu set sail and came here. Those who came later discovered the ruins of an old city, with artifacts like Qin ban liang and cut jade, and reported this.

At the beginning of the Eastern Han, Mù went to see the waves. He spent a day walking alone on the coast, and heard a song from afar. A girl in azure clothes was sitting on a rock. They spoke and got along well. The two swam together and rode a whale to see what lay beyond the seas. Then he returned and did not see her again. Mù spent the day distracted and wrote On the Mershark, which mentioned this place.

At the end of the Song dynasty, when the throne was pushed to the south, the navy sailed in the East Sea. Looking to the north, suddenly an island rose from the earth, dark and foggy. Those who saw it all did not trust in it, and did not enter. The island then scattered like mist.

In the era of Jiajing, a talented fisherman from Sānshān met with tumultuous waters, and was saved by a mershark, Hǎi Ruòzǐ, and brought here. It is now a stopping point for boats, known as Mershark Bay.

At the beginning of the Wanli era, the pirates plundering from the people sought to sell their wares in Khuntien. Luó Sùqiū saved them, and transferred them to Rjokang. Thirty-three years of peace and prosperity followed, and the people saw his values and made him the leader of the city; Rjokang Prefecture was thus established. Luó was encouraged to return and protect his village, but he did not listen, remaining in the ocean and presenting tribute to the Ming.

In the twenty-fourth year of Wanli, a mist covered the outer seas, and the tone changed strangely; the people were all shocked. When the Master of the Golden Blade heard this, he mustered troops to investigate. Suddenly a ship appeared and docked at Dōngpǔ. Aboard was a man in violet robes, claiming he came from the phantom islands and wished to become allies. These phantom islands are a hidden country, floating on the four seas and hidden in empty mist. The Lord of the City rejected the offer, for Rjokang is Chinese land, though far from the Central Plain, it has never been taught otherwise, and he did not want the society to be led astray. How could one like him speak of martial prowess, and how can one change his interests because he fears trouble? Rjokang, he said, must remain an open door forever, the master of the eastern path for the travelers of the ocean. The emissary thus left.

In the thirty-seventh year of Yongli, the House of Koxinga fell to the Qing; the people here who parted as a result were no more than one in ten.

In the fifty-ninth year of Yongli, Kangxi discovered the matter and sought to draw in peace and confer a title upon the sea lords. The Northern Abnormality Institute's minister came with an offering of money, but the Lord of the City did not take it, and left it in the sea. The emperor was angry and sent three thousand troops in retaliation, but was not successful except to kill many of the secret visitors to Rjokang at the shores, corpses towering. The Lord of the City was angry and transformed into a red dragon, spewing fire throughout the sky and destroying the governor's residence. The Manchus came multiple times to attack, but after the cinders floated ten lǐ, the waves would once again become tranquil.

In the 107th year of Yongli, a scholar named Samenado from a black magic secret society called Association of Mutants in Nányáng, had learned a powerful evil curse; he became erratic and the society found it difficult to accept him. Thus he escaped to Rjokang and feigned insanity, using soul-consuming demon magic to scare the people; the people still believed this. He began to give sermons that spread the beliefs of his cult, raising money and disturbing the hearts of the people. His greed was like a serpent's belly, and though it was fed he was never satisfied. In the end he desired to rally his troops to attack Wǔfāngfǔ. Ah, in the end, the evil cannot defeat the good; how can the red soul be broken? The Lord of the City and three of his allies from the Kuiyang sect broke through his plot and beheaded him at the door; his corpse was publicly displayed in the square. Soon the incident faded into memory.

In the 254th year of Yongli, the minister of wine offerings of the Northern Abnormality Institute, along with a man from the eastern seas named Clifford Craneman, or in his native tongue Gaketsu Tsuruto, for he was the leader of the Japanese Onmyō-ryō. He said that in the past, Japan had fought over the throne, and the Northern Court had stolen the throne and established the Shūshū-in. His ancestors had tried to reclaim the right to the throne. The Southern Court thus perished, and in order to avoid being plundered his ancestors had hidden the holy artifacts in the emperor's throne room in a hidden place. Hidden for long, they caused confusion, and the books slowly perished; the stories remained, scattered among them. Considering all their opinions, they hid them on the island. The Lord of the City allowed this and sent troops at their guidance, and discovered a sword, a magatama, and a mirror in a cave. The leader of the Kuiyang sect, Fōu Qiūzǐ, was laying within at the time, and seeing their arrival he knocked on a stone pillar, turning it into a chest and a case, and upon opening the seal on the artifacts the precious light was visible. The chest hid the three treasures of Japan, and the case held the Heirloom Seal of the Realm. The Kuiyang sect's leader took these and placed them on the ground, smiling slightly but saying nothing, and once again reteurned to his rest. The visitors took three bows and left. The minister and visitor from the eastern seas stayed for a few days and then left. Later it was heard that eight nations were sacking China, and the Qing emperor was in the west. When they returned, the nations' armies were sacking the capital. At that time, the two men and eleven foreigners from the West signed an agreement to work as one and form the SCP Foundation, wishing to control the anomalous throughout the world. The Three Enclosures Alliance joined under the banner of the Abnormality Institute, and was tasked with watching over Rjokang and the overseas Chinese.

In the 258th year of Yongli, Sun Yat-sen and his people came from Sānfān, with plans for a great matter. He conversed in secret with the Lord of the City for three days, then joyously left with money for his plan. The next year, the Tongmenghui was established in Tokyo with Sun as its leader.

In Minguo 1, the Qing rule had been overthrown, and the era was changed from Yongli to Minguo, and the president was the ruler. It is a pity that the traitor Yuan Shikai, who had originally betrayed the Qing, dismissed Sun in an instant and used his troops to establish independence. He is like Sima Zhao, for everyone knows what he is thinking. Thus people were speaking of this in various lights, even here. The work has not yet finished.

In Minguo 12, Zhuó Ēn​cí, a Justice of the Peace from Macau in Xiangshan and a descendant of the talented fisherman, had a child named Záoshān, who was harmonious with the people and spoke honestly. A bloodthirsty demon named Wēn, originally his sworn brother, grew jdeeply ealous of him and obtained the power of the mershark, suddenly killing his father and harming the people, and was carried by the wind and waves to Rjokang. The Lord of the City did not investigate, and was stabbed in the back and died; the people could not bear it and shuddered in fear all day long. Záoshān came to save Rjokang, helped by a German esotericist named Zeppeli, who was teaching breathing techniques to him. In a few days he had mastered the mystical technique, and used illusionary sounds, sound waves which ordinary people cannot hear, to restrain the shark-demons. At that time, the two fought on the outer islands of Rjokang, and Záoshān split the ocean as the Christians say their Moses did, forcing the criminal to come out into the open, and with a thousand fists tore him to pieces. But the mershark's lives were still in danger, for Wēn's corpse suddenly rose up and gnawed at Záoshān, holding him down in the void. Then the technique ceased for a moment, and the waves suddenly came over them; the ship carrying the evil sorcerer's prisoners was lost in the deluge and has not been found. The later generations remembered him, creating a large shrine and enshrining him as Zokhoi, literally means "the person who chiseled out the sea". His widow Christina bore his child after his death, and established a college in Kowloon, where he was born; Kowloon, too, had a Way to this place. His friend, Spelt Condraki, carried on his will and opened a martial arts school, gathering the skilled anomalous fighters of the world to learn and transmit the sound-attacking arts. For a time he quelled the shark-demons, and the people referred to this place as the "Shark Punching Center". Following this, Záoshān's child, Záosāi grew up, and created the new techniques of the Youyin Sect, which is useful not just for punching sharks but for expelling demons.

Note: Later generations discovered that the prisoners aboard the ship were not lost in the waves. Zokhoi had destroyed the barrier of time and created a gap, which led them to another world; there they founded a village that is now known as Hong Shing. The whereabouts of Zokhoi himself are unknown.

In Minguo 24, the Blueshirts desired to harm the Communists. They entered a musical group known as the "Noonday Oak Troupe", disguised as artists, and used decadent music to stop people in their tracks. However, they could not assassinate the people in the streets, and so they brought disaster on the ordinary people with their attacks. The Master of the Golden Blade discovered this and sent both parties to jail. That year, the new Lord of the City ordered public sparring banned.

In Minguo 25, Japan showed their desire to rule China. They revived evil ways and let poison flow onto the land. The Japanese planned to capture Rjokang and use it as a naval base; thus they instructed their "Unit Negative Numbers" to create in secret the evil Magatsuhi to gain the hearts of the people. Wishing to infiltrate Rjokang, they claimed the souls of the people, and turned them into demonic soldiers. How fortunate it was then that Àoshuāng, a craftsman of Fixed Flowers, had produced myriad seeds of calming flowers, for when they bloomed they could drive out the evil drawn in from outside the seven mortal forms. But this controlled the people like the outbreak of a disease, and it was hard to isolate people. Their bodies would be corroded by demons, and the corroded parts could not be removed save for being cut off. At that time, a man who had once worshipped the Westerners' mechanical god but had reconvered to the Green Emperor came from Lu Town and set up a steam-hospital, where he fashioned mechanical replacements for those who had lost their arms, and cleansed the souls of those who had been possessed. At this time, Záosāi's people, too, came to assist. With this support, Rjokang did not decline, and three years of anxiety and poisoning were calmed.

In Minguo 28, some dolphins seemed to have gained human intelligence, and moved to this place. They learned many things, and were taught the theory of Bolshevism. The next year, they established a republic, and Rjokang established friendly relations.

In 1950, China was filled with soldiers. The world was divided into three; their hearts were many, and people who came and went often disliked each other. At this time, the Lord of the City began to use the Gregorian calendar of the West, and ceased to call Rjokang a prefecture, instead calling it a Free City; no longer did they care for the left and right, but they did not follow the lead of the Westerners. They remained neutral, not wishing for division between Han people. There was also a leader from the Foundation, who was not from the Council, who stated that the Northern Abnormality Institute was in collaboration with the Communists, intimate with the Nineteenth Bureau. As such they formed a separate Branch, led by the Three Enclosures, called themselves the Traditional Chinese branch, and vowed to carry on the traditions of the past. At that time, the Communist Party rejected foreign forces; the Foundation could not send in troops, and so the Overseers silently recognized the Three Enclosures.

In 1965, [DATA EXPUNGED]