The Heavenly Sword & the Dragon Sabre Chapter 1 Part 9

Fang Tianlao strode to his mount and drew a long sword from its cloth bundle. With a rasp of steel, the blade cleared its scabbard. He flicked a finger against the flat of the blade, sending a clear hum reverberating through the air that lingered for some time. Sword in hand, his smile faded at once. His left hand formed a sword seal,¹ extended in a level push with fingers pointing skyward, whilst his right hand held the sword motionless toward the heavens—the opening stance of Immortal Points the Way.²

He Zudao³ said, “Since Brother Fang insists upon crossing blades, I shall match you with Miss Guo’s short sword for a few moves.”

So saying, he drew forth the broken blade. The short sword had been barely a foot long to begin with; after Wei Tianwang⁴ had severed it with his fingers, only seven or eight inches of blade remained, blunt-tipped and flat-edged—it scarcely resembled even a dagger. He held the scabbard in his left hand and raised the truncated blade in his right, then launched a sudden attack.

The strike came with blinding speed. Before Fang Tianlao’s eyes, a white flash flickered and He Zudao had already unleashed three successive attacks. Though the broken sword was too short to reach him, Fang Tianlao felt a chill creep through his heart. Those three strokes came impossibly fast—near impossible to parry. What manner of swordplay is this? Had he wielded a proper blade, I might already lie bleeding upon the ground.

After the three moves, He Zudao sprang aside and stood motionless. Fang Tianlao unfurled his own technique, pressing forward in a half-defensive, half-offensive stance. He Zudao evaded with fluid grace, refusing to counter, until he suddenly unleashed another flurry of three rapid strikes that sent Fang Tianlao scrambling—then he had already leapt clear once more. Fang Tianlao’s blade wove patterns of white light, his attacks swift and sure.

Guo Xiang⁵ mused, This old fellow’s techniques are fierce and ruthless, cut from the same cloth as that Wei fellow’s palm style, yet with three parts more nimble grace—making him all the more formidable…

Her thoughts were interrupted by He Zudao’s sudden cry: “On your guard!” The final word had scarcely left his lips when his left hand brought up the scabbard faster than lightning-flash or spark-strike. With a soft thud, he had sheathed Fang Tianlao’s blade-tip within the scabbard, and his right hand thrust the broken sword forward, its point levelled at his opponent’s throat.

With his sword trapped, Fang Tianlao had no means to parry. He could only watch helplessly as the broken blade drew toward his throat, and was forced to release his weapon and roll aside to escape the strike. Before he could regain his feet, a shadow flashed past him—Pan Tiangeng⁶ had launched himself forward, seized the sword by its hilt, and with a flick and twist, freed it from the scabbard. He Zudao and Guo Xiang exclaimed together, “Excellent footwork!”

This sallow-faced elder had not uttered a single word throughout, yet his martial prowess clearly surpassed his two companions.

He Zudao said, “Your skills are formidable, sir. I am most impressed.”

He turned to Guo Xiang. “Miss Guo, since I heard your graceful performance the other day, I have composed a new piece. I would be honoured if you would offer your critique.”

Guo Xiang asked, “What sort of piece?”

He Zudao settled cross-legged upon the ground, placed his yaoqin⁷ across his knees, and began tuning the strings. He was about to play when Pan Tiangeng spoke up.

“You have defeated both my shidi,⁸” Pan Tiangeng said. “This one surnamed Pan would still seek instruction.”

He Zudao waved him off. “The martial contest is finished—there is nothing more to savour. I wish to play for Miss Guo. This is a new composition. If you three care to listen, pray be seated. If you lack appreciation for such things, you are free to depart.” His left hand pressed and twisted the strings whilst his right began to pluck.

Guo Xiang had heard but a few passages before wonder and delight seized her in equal measure. Part of the melody was the Kaopan⁹ she herself had played, whilst another was the Qin folk song Jiangjia.¹⁰ Two utterly different tunes had been woven together by his ingenious hand, call answering response in an interplay of ineffable beauty. The qin sang: “By the mountain brook he dwells, the worthy one so broad of mind. The reeds grow thick and green, white dew turns to frost, the one I long for stands beyond the water… So broad of mind, so broad of mind… I follow upstream, the path is long and hard, I follow downstream, she waits amid the waters…”

A sudden stirring passed through Guo Xiang’s heart. The ‘one he longs for’ in his music—could he mean me? Why does this melody overflow so with tender yearning?

The thought brought a faint flush to her cheeks. Yet the composition was truly masterful. The original character of both Kaopan and Jiangjia remained perfectly intact, yet woven in counterpoint they became something far richer and more splendid. Never in all her life had she heard music such as this.

Pan Tiangeng and his two companions understood none of it. They knew nothing of He Zudao’s eccentric nature, his bookish obsessions, his singular intensity. Having composed a new piece, he had hurried here expressly for Guo Xiang’s appreciation—indeed, the composition had been created for her—and all else had fled his mind. Yet seeing him absorbed in his playing whilst ignoring them entirely, treating them as beneath notice, they found his contempt insufferable. Pan Tiangeng levelled his sword-point at He Zudao’s left shoulder and snapped, “Rise at once! I would cross blades with you!”

He Zudao’s spirit had sunk entirely into the music. He seemed to see an eccentric wanderer roaming through mountains and marshes, catching sight of a gentle maiden standing upon an island in the water, and heedless of all obstacles pressing forward to meet her…

Pain lanced through his left shoulder. He started awake and raised his head to find Pan Tiangeng’s sword-point pricking his shoulder, having just broken the skin. Were he not to defend himself, the man would surely run him through. Yet the piece remained unfinished, and to have such vulgarians interrupt—how utterly dispiriting. He drew forth the broken blade with his left hand. Steel rang upon steel as he deflected Pan Tiangeng’s sword, whilst his right hand continued its playing without pause.

In this moment, He Zudao finally revealed his extraordinary skill. His right hand plucked the strings whilst his left wielded the blade. Unable to press the strings, he directed his qi against the fifth string in a focused breath; the string sank beneath the force as though pressed by fingers. His right hand played on, and the music rose and fell, every note bending to his will. Pan Tiangeng attacked furiously, but He Zudao parried each stroke with casual ease whilst his eyes remained fixed upon the strings, fearing a misdirected breath might disrupt the melody. Pan Tiangeng’s fury mounted. His strokes came faster and fiercer, yet no matter where his blade thrust, it was lightly turned aside.

Guo Xiang listened to the music, its currents flowing through her heart, paying little heed to Pan Tiangeng’s desperate thrusts. Only the clash of steel upon steel marred the qin’s voice. She clapped her hands softly, marking the rhythm, and frowned at Pan Tiangeng. “Your tempo is entirely wrong—do you understand nothing of music? Listen now: strike on the beat, one stroke per measure, and the sound of crossing blades will harmonise with the melody.”

How could Pan Tiangeng heed her? Seeing his opponent seated upon the ground, wielding only half a broken blade with eyes fixed upon the qin strings whilst he himself remained utterly helpless against him—his frustration boiled over. He abruptly shifted his technique into a whirlwind assault, and the clang of metal upon metal fell like driving rain. This cacophony of urgent strokes clashed harshly against the tender, yearning melody.

He Zudao’s brows rose. He channelled his strength into the broken blade. With a sharp ring, Pan Tiangeng’s sword snapped in two—yet at that same instant, the fifth string of the yaoqin broke with a twang.

Pan Tiangeng’s face turned ashen. Without a word, he turned and strode from the pavilion. The three men mounted their horses and rode swiftly up the mountain.

Guo Xiang was puzzled. “How strange. Having lost the contest, why do they still go up to Shaolin Monastery?¹¹ Are they truly so determined to see this through?”

She turned back to find He Zudao’s face a mask of dejection, his hand resting upon the broken qin as though in unspeakable grief.

A broken string—what of it? she thought. She took the yaoqin, removed the snapped portion, lengthened the remaining string, and wound it anew about the tuning peg. He Zudao shook his head and sighed. “All those years of cultivation, yet in the end I could not still my heart. When my left hand summoned force to break his blade, my right hand snapped the string as well.”

Only then did Guo Xiang understand. His distress arose from incomplete mastery. She smiled and said, “You wished your left hand to strike fiercely whilst your right played gently—the method of divided attention. In all the world, only three people have mastered this. You have not attained such heights; there is no cause for despair.”

He Zudao asked, “Who are these three?”

Guo Xiang replied, “The first is Zhou Botong¹² the Old Urchin. The second is my father. The third is Lady Yang, Xiaolongnü.¹³ Beyond these three, not even such supreme masters as my grandfather the Peach Blossom Island Master,¹⁴ my mother, or Yang Guo¹⁵ the Condor Hero can achieve it.”

He Zudao said, “To think such remarkable people exist in this world. Might you introduce me to them sometime?”

Guo Xiang’s expression dimmed. “Meeting my father would not be difficult. But the other two—who knows where they might be found.”

Seeing He Zudao still lost in thought over the broken string, she offered comfort. “You defeated the Three Kunlun Sages¹⁶ in a single bout—that alone should make you the envy of the age. Why brood over a snapped string?”

He Zudao started in alarm. “The Three Kunlun Sages? What do you mean? How do you know?”

Guo Xiang laughed. “Those three old fellows came from the Western Regions—naturally they must be the Three Kunlun Sages. Their martial arts are certainly formidable, but to challenge Shaolin Monastery? Surely they overestimate themselves…”

She noticed his expression growing ever more astonished. “What troubles you?”

He Zudao murmured to himself, “The Three Kunlun Sages, He Zudao of the Three Kunlun Sages… That is who I am.”

Footnotes

1. 剑诀 – jiànjué. Literally sword formula. A hand mudra used in sword techniques where the index and middle fingers extend whilst the other fingers curl inward, directing qi and intention in coordination with sword movements. ↩

2. 仙人指路 – xiānrén zhǐlù. Literally immortal points the way. A fundamental opening stance in many sword styles, symbolising guidance and clarity of purpose. ↩

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

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

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

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

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

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

9. 考盘 – Kǎopán. Literally “wandering at ease.” A poem from the “Classic of Poetry” celebrating the life of a hermit who finds contentment in solitude. See Wikipedia. ↩

10. 蒹葭 – Jiānjiā. Literally reeds and rushes. A lyrical poem from the Book of Songs about yearning for an unattainable beloved who seems always just out of reach, “beyond the water.” See Wikipedia. ↩

11. 少林寺 – Shàolín Sì. Famous Buddhist monastery, birthplace of Chan Buddhism and Shaolin martial arts. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

12. 周伯通 – Zhōu Bótōng. His name meaning “Zhou Ancestral Comprehension”. Known as the Old Urchin for his childlike personality despite his age. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

13. 小龙女 – Xiǎolóngnǚ. Her name meaning “Little Dragon Maiden”. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

14. 桃花岛主 – Táohuā Dǎozhǔ. Literally Peach Blossom Island Master. Huang Yaoshi the Eastern Heretic, Guo Xiang’s maternal grandfather. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

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

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