Flying Fox of the Snowy Mountain Chapter 10 – Part 4

The two men slid slowly downward. Another hundred-odd feet and a great outward-jutting cliff of rock waited below. If they could not arrest their fall upon that ledge, nothing remained but to be dashed to pieces. The thought had barely formed before their bodies crashed upon the overhanging stone. The two men were equals in martial skill, and their thoughts were as one. Both invoked the Thousand Jin Drop¹ at once, locking their feet to the rock.

The rock’s surface was smooth and round, and a crust of ice made it treacherous beyond measure. Yet both men were masters of the highest order, and the instant their feet touched stone they froze in place, without so much as half a step of sliding. A soft cracking sounded. The great boulder, weighing tens of thousands of jin, swayed. This enormous rock had rested across the mountainside for years beyond counting. Beneath it, sand and gravel had slowly crumbled away over the ages, so that it might topple into the valley at any moment. Now the added weight of two men sent chips of stone and ice cascading down, and the boulder rocked more violently with each shift.

The two tree branches had tumbled down with them onto the rock. Miao Renfeng saw that the danger was extreme. His left palm shot out while his right hand snatched up a branch, and at once he launched “Step Forward, Pluck the Moon at the Cloud’s Edge,”² driving his jian in a diagonal thrust. Hu Fei ducked and bent low, evading the sword stroke, and seizing the moment scooped up the other branch, countering with “Bow to the Buddha and Listen to the Sutras.”³

By now both men used nothing but attacking moves, every one vicious and desperate. The cracking of the boulder grew louder and louder, and their footing grew ever more uncertain. Each man thought the same thought, Only by forcing the other off this rock, by lightening the weight upon it, can I keep the stone from falling and give myself a chance to live. Life and death turned on a hair, and neither showed the slightest mercy.

In the space of a dozen exchanges, Miao Renfeng observed that the bladework his opponent wielded was identical to Hu Yidao’s techniques all those years ago. His suspicion blazed. But the situation allowed him no leisure to ask questions. He slashed out with “Turn the Wrist, Yide Storms the Tent,”⁴ and at once prepared to follow with “Lift the Jian, White Crane Spreads Its Wings.”⁵ This combined stroke called for sword and palm together, designed to leave the opponent no choice but to fall from the rock. Yet a habit ingrained since childhood betrayed him: before the move, his back gave the faintest twitch.

The moon shone bright, as if washed clean. The sky was a single sheet of blue-black brightness, and its light threw the mountain wall into brilliant relief. The cliff face was sheathed in crystal ice, smooth as a mirror, and in that mirror Miao Renfeng’s back was thrown into perfect reflection.

Hu Fei saw it plainly. At once he recalled Ping Asi’s painstaking account of how his own father had duelled this very man years ago, how his mother had coughed from behind to signal each coming move. Now a mirror of bright ice stood at Miao Renfeng’s back, and he needed no ally’s aid. Hu Fei knew what stroke must come next. At once he launched the “Eight Directions Hidden Dao Stance,”⁶ seizing the initiative before his opponent could complete his own.

Miao Renfeng’s “White Crane Spreads Its Wings” had barely begun when Hu Fei’s branch dao had already enfolded him on every side. Now at last his doubt was gone. The man before him was bound to Hu Yidao by ties of the deepest kind. He sighed, “Retribution. Retribution.” And he closed his eyes to await death.

Hu Fei raised the branch dao. A single stroke would send his foe tumbling from the rock. But he remembered the promise he had made to Miao Ruolan: he would not harm her father. Yet if he did not strike, and Miao Renfeng completed “White Crane Spreads Its Wings,” he himself must die. Was he to spare his enemy only at the cost of his own life?

In that instant a thousand thoughts turned through his mind:

This man had caused the death of his father and mother, condemning him to a lonely childhood. Yet he was a hero of soaring courage, a great and noble man, and the father of the woman Hu Fei held in his heart. By rights the blade should not fall. But if it did not, he himself had no hope of survival. He was just entering his prime. How could he consent to die? And if he struck the man down, how would he ever have the face to look upon Miao Ruolan again? If he spent his whole life avoiding her, never seeing her face once more, then existence itself would be an agony worse than death.

For that moment Hu Fei was caught in the most desperate extremity, unable to say whether the blade should fall or stay raised. He would not harm his foe, yet he would not sacrifice his own life.

Had he been a lesser man, one who cared nothing for xia and honour, the stroke would have fallen without a second thought. But even the most generous and bold spirit cannot lightly throw away his life. At this pass, the choice was hard beyond all measure…

Miao Ruolan stood in the snow. Long, long she waited, and the two men did not return. Slowly she opened the bundle Hu Fei had left in her care. Inside were several infant garments, a pair of baby shoes, and a yellow cloth wrapper. In the moonlight she could read clearly the seven black characters embroidered upon it: “He Who Has Fought All Under Heaven and Found No Equal.”⁷ It was the very cloth her father had wrapped around Hu Fei as a babe.

She stood in the snow, beneath the moon, gazing at those tiny clothes and shoes. A thousand tender feelings stirred within her, and she stood as one entranced.

Could Hu Fei return safely to her side? Would his blade fall, or would it stay raised?

Footnotes

1. 千斤坠 – qiānjīn zhuì. A stability technique in which the practitioner channels neili downward to root the body, making it immensely difficult to be moved or toppled. Lit. “thousand jin drop.” ↩

2. 上步云边摘月 – shàngbù yúnbiān zhāiyuè. A Miao Family Swordplay technique. Lit. “step forward and pluck the moon at the cloud’s edge.” ↩

3. 拜佛听经 – bàifó tīngjīng. A Hu Family Bladeworks technique. Lit. “bow to the Buddha and listen to the sutras.” ↩

4. 返腕翼德闯帐 – fǎnwàn Yìdé chuǎngzhàng. A Miao Family Swordplay technique, named after Zhang Fei (courtesy name Yide), the famed general who stormed the enemy’s tent. ↩

5. 提撩剑白鹤舒翅 – tíliáo jiàn báihè shūchì. A Miao Family Swordplay technique. Lit. “lift the sword as a white crane spreads its wings.” ↩

6. 八方藏刀式 – bāfāng cángdāo shì. A Hu Family Bladeworks technique. Lit. “the stance that hides the blade in eight directions.” ↩

7. 打遍天下无敌手 – dǎbiàn tiānxià wú díshǒu. “He Who Has Fought All Under Heaven and Found No Equal.” The phrase inscribed on the yellow cloth wrapping. ↩