The Heavenly Sword & the Dragon Sabre Chapter 1 Part 8

Wei Tianwang’s¹ right hand drew the sword from its scabbard whilst his left pinched the blade between two fingers. Power surged through his fingernails, and with a crisp snap, the blade broke cleanly in two. He returned the truncated weapon to its sheath. “Who would want your worthless stub of a sword?”

Guo Xiang² saw the fearsome strength in his fingers and felt her alarm deepen.

Wei Tianwang observed her change of countenance and felt immensely pleased with himself. He threw back his head and laughed, a piercing sound that battered the eardrums and set the pavilion’s roof tiles rattling.

Then came a thunderous crack. The stone pavilion’s roof split apart and a large object crashed through. Everyone started in shock—even Wei Tianwang had not anticipated this. He had channelled his full neili³ into that laugh, yet had intended no more than to show off his inner power. The laugh itself contained no true mirth, merely a forceful exertion masquerading as merry bellows of “ha ha, ha ha.” That it had actually shattered the rooftop caught him between delight and astonishment. He had not realised how greatly his internal cultivation had advanced of late. Then he looked at what had fallen through—and his surprise doubled. There lay a man clad entirely in white, cradling a yaoqin,⁴ still sound asleep with his eyes firmly shut.

“Well!” Guo Xiang exclaimed with delight. “So you were here all along!”

This was none other than the man she had encountered days before in a mountain hollow, playing his zither whilst playing weiqi against himself.

The stranger heard Guo Xiang speak and sprang to his feet. “Miss, I have been searching everywhere for you. Who would have thought we’d cross paths again here?”

“Searching for me?” said Guo Xiang. “Whatever for?”

“I forgot to ask your honourable name.”

“Honourable name?” Guo Xiang laughed. “All that flowery pedantry makes my skin crawl.”

The man blinked, then chuckled. “Quite right, quite right! The more a man puts on airs and spouts empty courtesies, the less true learning he possesses. Such fellows are best suited to gulling bumpkins—there they’d do splendidly.”

As he spoke, his eyes fixed upon Wei Tianwang and he gave a cold, derisive laugh. Guo Xiang was delighted; she had not expected this stranger to be so perceptive, taking her side so readily.

Wei Tianwang’s iron-blue complexion darkened further at that stare.

“And who might you be?” he demanded coldly.

The man ignored him entirely. Turning to Guo Xiang, he asked, “Miss, what is your name?”

“My surname is Guo,” she replied. “My given name is a single character: Xiang.”

The man clapped his hands. “Well! How blind I have been! Before me stands none other than the illustrious eldest daughter of the Guo household,⁵ renowned across the Four Seas. Your father is Guo Jing,⁶ Guo daxia,⁷ the Great Hero. Your mother is Huang Rong,⁸ the Heroine Huang. Save for the ignorant and witless, save for fools who cannot tell good from ill, who in the jianghu⁹ has not heard of them?

“They are accomplished in both the literary and martial arts: swords, spears, dao,¹⁰ ji,¹¹ fists, palms, qi cultivation, the zither, weiqi, calligraphy, painting, poetry, song, and verse—in all things they surpass the ancients and stand peerless in our age. Ha! Yet certain deluded souls remain oblivious to their thunderous reputation.”

Inwardly, Guo Xiang was amused. So you were hiding atop the pavilion and overheard my exchange with these three. It seems you know nothing of my parents either. I am the second daughter, yet you call me “eldest.” And you claim Father is accomplished in zither, chess, calligraphy, and poetry—what utter nonsense. Aloud, she asked with a smile, “And what is your name?”

The man replied, “My surname is He. My given name is Zudao.”

“He Zudao!”¹² Guo Xiang laughed. “‘What is there to speak of?’¹³ A humble name indeed.”

He Zudao said, “Compared to the shameless boasters who style themselves ‘Heaven-this’ or ‘Earth-that,’ inflating their own importance beyond all measure, my humble name is at least not nauseating.”

From the moment of his arrival, He Zudao had showered the three with bitter mockery. Seeing him crash through the pavilion roof, they had recognised him as no ordinary man; at first they held their tongues, waiting to discover the white-clad stranger’s background. But as his barbs grew sharper, Wei Tianwang’s patience snapped. He lashed out with a backhanded palm strike at He Zudao’s left cheek.

He Zudao ducked, slipping beneath the arm. Wei Tianwang felt a slight numbness at his left wrist—and the short sword was gone from his grasp. When Wei Tianwang had snatched Guo Xiang’s sword, his movements had been so swift the eye could scarcely follow; she had been caught off guard, utterly unprepared. But He Zudao’s counter was effortless, almost offhand, the blade simply vanishing from Wei Tianwang’s grip without any remarkable display of speed or technique.

Wei Tianwang started forward, his fingers curving into hooks as he clawed at He Zudao’s shoulder. He Zudao sidestepped, and the strike swept past. At that moment, Pan Tiangeng¹⁴ and Fang Tianlao¹⁵ leapt backward out of the pavilion. Wei Tianwang’s fists and palms flew in a tempest, wind howling with each blow. In the space of a heartbeat he had unleashed seven or eight strikes. He Zudao dodged left and slipped right, yet not so much as the hem of his robe was touched. He stood with the short sword cradled in his hands, making no move to block or parry the onslaught of furious blows; a slight shift of his body was all it took to leave Wei Tianwang grasping at empty air.

Limited by her youth, Guo Xiang’s martial skills were not yet refined—but her discernment was exceptional, honed by years among first-rank masters. She watched He Zudao turn aside ferocious attacks with the lightest of movements, his body flowing like water. His style belonged to no school she recognised; it stood apart from every renowned tradition of the Central Plains. The more she observed, the more intrigued she became.

Wei Tianwang had launched more than twenty strikes without forcing his opponent to counter even once. A low growl escaped him as his stance shifted. His movements slowed, but each blow now carried crushing, concentrated force. Standing in the pavilion, Guo Xiang felt the pressure of the wind from his fists driving her backward step by step until she retreated outside.

Now He Zudao dared not simply evade. He thrust the short sword into his belt and planted his feet firmly, then bellowed, “You think you alone possess hard techniques? Do you imagine I do not?”

As Wei Tianwang’s double-palm strike drove forward, He Zudao countered with a single palm, meeting force with force. With a resounding crash, Wei Tianwang stumbled backward two paces. He Zudao stood unmoved.

Wei Tianwang prided himself on external techniques that few in the world could match. Yet his opponent had met him head-on without any feint or leverage, answering hard with hard—and driven him back. He refused to accept defeat. Drawing a deep breath, he gave a thunderous shout and drove both palms forward once more. He Zudao answered with his own roar and countered with a single palm. Stone cracked and splintered overhead, and debris showered down through the hole in the roof.

Wei Tianwang staggered back four paces before he could plant his stance. After those two exchanges, his hair was wild, his eyes bulging. He pressed both hands against his dantian,¹⁶ breathing heavily as he circulated his qi. His chest hollowed, his belly swelled like a drum, and his bones crackled and popped. Step by slow step, he advanced upon He Zudao. Observing this display, He Zudao dared not take it lightly. He steadied his own cultivated qi¹⁷ and prepared for the coming assault.

Wei Tianwang closed to within four or five feet of his opponent—the distance at which he ought to have struck. Yet he did not halt. He advanced another two paces until the two men stood face to face, so close their breaths mingled. Only then did his palms lash out: one aimed at He Zudao’s face, the other driving toward his lower abdomen. This time he had split his attack to divide and scatter his opponent’s defence. Both stance and striking force had reached their utmost ferocity.

He Zudao likewise struck with both palms. He crossed them: his left met Wei Tianwang’s left, his right met Wei Tianwang’s right—yet he had divided his force between hard and soft. Wei Tianwang felt the palm aimed at his opponent’s abdomen sink into emptiness, whilst the palm striking at the face seemed to collide with an iron rampart. Before he could comprehend what had gone wrong, a tremendous force slammed into him and sent him hurtling out of the stone pavilion.

This exchange was still hard against hard, force meeting force. The weaker must suffer injury; there was no room for manoeuvre. Whether Wei Tianwang planted his stance or crashed to the ground, his own rebounding force combined with He Zudao’s devastating power would surely have him coughing blood. Pan Tiangeng and Fang Tianlao shouted in unison, “Help him!”

Both men leapt forward and seized Wei Tianwang’s arms, hoisting him upward. Only thus did they dissipate He Zudao’s crushing palm force. Though Wei Tianwang escaped injury, his organs churned and his bones felt ready to shatter. He could not catch his breath, and his strength drained away. The red-faced, squat fellow Fang Tianlao saw his shidi¹⁸ suffer such grievous punishment, yet concealed his fury behind a beaming smile. “Your palm force is rarely seen in this world, sir. I am filled with admiration.”

Guo Xiang thought, When it comes to the fierce, overwhelming power of palm techniques, who can rival Father’s Eighteen Palms of Dragon-Subduing?¹⁹ You Three Kunlun Sages²⁰ dwell in your remote mountains, gazing at the sky from the bottom of a well, convinced you reign supreme. One day I shall show you what the heroes of the Central Plains are truly made of.

As the thought formed, her heart gave a sudden pang. The Central Plains master she wished them to see was not her father—it was Yang Guo.²¹

She heard Fang Tianlao continue, “If you would not mind, old as I am, I should like to test your swordsmanship.”

He Zudao replied, “Master Fang, you have been most courteous to Miss Guo. I bear you no grudge. There is no need for us to spar.”

Guo Xiang started. You gave that surnamed Wei such a thrashing because he was discourteous to me?

Footnotes

1. 卫天望 – Wèi Tiānwàng. His name meaning “Gazing at Heaven” or “Aspiring to Heaven.” See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

2. 郭襄 – Guō Xiāng. Her name meaning “Xiang of Guo”, with “Xiang” referring to Xiangyang, the city where she was born. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

3. 内力 – neìlì. Inner strength. The kinetic manifestation of cultivated qi. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

4. 瑶琴 – yáoqín. Literally jade qin. A seven-stringed classical Chinese zither, prized for its refined and meditative tone. See Wikipedia. ↩

5. A slight misidentification. Guo Xiang is actually the second daughter of Guo Jing and Huang Rong, not the eldest. Her elder sister is Guo Fu. However, He Zudao has only heard rumours and does not know the family well. ↩

6. 郭靖 – Guō Jìng. His name meaning Guo Serenity. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

7. 大侠 – dàxiá. Literally great hero. An honorific for heroic martial artists who uphold justice. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

8. 黄蓉 – Huáng Róng. Her name meaning “Huang Lotus”. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

9. 江湖 – jiānghú. Literally rivers and lakes. The world of martial arts. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

10. 刀 – dāo. Single-edged blade, one of the fundamental weapons in Chinese martial arts. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

11. 戟 – jǐ. A polearm with a spearhead and a hook at the end, used in ancient Chinese martial arts. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

12. 何足道 – Hé Zúdào. His name meaning “What Is There to Speak of?” or “Not Worth Mentioning.” See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

13. A play on He Zudao’s name, which is also the classical Chinese phrase 何足道哉, meaning “what is there worth speaking of?” expressing modesty. ↩

14. 潘天耕 – Pān Tiāngēng. His name meaning “Heaven’s Tiller” or “Cultivating the Heavens.” See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

15. 方天劳 – Fāng Tiānláo. His name meaning “Heaven’s Toiler” or “Labouring for Heaven.” See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

16. 丹田 – dāntián. Literally cinnabar field. The energy centre located three finger-widths below the navel, where qi is cultivated and stored. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

17. 真气 – zhēnqì. Literally true qi. Qi refined through internal cultivation. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

18. 师弟 – Shīdì. Male junior. Both of them were apprentice to the same master. Shī means teacher. Dì means younger brother. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

19. 降龙十八掌 – Xiánglóng Shíbā Zhǎng. Literally eighteen palms of Dragon-Subduing. Hong Qigong’s legendary palm technique passed down to Guo Jing. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

20. 昆仑三圣 – Kūnlún Sānshèng. Literally three Kunlun sages. ↩

21. 杨过 – Yáng Guò. His name meaning “Yang Surpassing” or “Yang Repentance”. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩