The Heavenly Sword & the Dragon Sabre – Chapter 11: A Girl with a Tongue Sharp as a Spear

Zhang Sanfeng rescues Chang Yuchun and the orphan Zhou Zhiruo from Mongol soldiers on the Han River.

Part 1

Zhang Sanfeng¹ led Wuji² down from Mount Shaoshi, convinced the boy had not long to live, and so abandoned all thought of seeking a cure. Instead he told him jokes, and the two of them whiled away their sorrows together. One day they reached the banks of the Han River³ and boarded a small ferry to cross. Midstream, the Han River ran high and wild, and the little boat rocked and swayed. Zhang Sanfeng’s thoughts churned like the waves.

Wuji suddenly said, “Grand Master, don’t be sad. After I die, I’ll see Father and Mother again. That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

Zhang Sanfeng said, “Don’t talk like that. Grand Master will find a way to cure you, no matter what.”

Wuji said, “I was thinking, if only I could learn the Shaolin Order’s⁴ Nine Yang Divine Skill⁵ and tell Third Uncle Yu, that would be wonderful.”

Zhang Sanfeng asked, “Why?”

“I was hoping Third Uncle Yu could practise the divine skills of both the Wudang Order⁶ and the Shaolin Order, and cure his crippled limbs.”

Zhang Sanfeng sighed. “Your Third Uncle Yu’s injury is to his bones and tendons, an external wound. No matter how powerful one’s neili, it cannot heal that.” Yet he thought to himself, This child knows he is dying, yet he shows no fear of death. Instead he worries about healing Daiyan’s⁷ disability. Such a heart is the very mark of us who walk the chivalrous road of the jianghu.⁸ He was about to praise the boy when a loud voice drifted across the river from far away:

“Stop the boat at once! Hand over the child peacefully, and this Buddha will spare your life. Otherwise, don’t blame me for being merciless!”

The voice cut through the roar of the waves and reached their ears clear as day. Whoever was shouting had no small measure of internal strength.

Zhang Sanfeng sneered inwardly. Who dares demand I leave a child behind? He raised his head and saw two riverboats racing towards them. Squinting, he made out a burly, curly-bearded man in the small boat ahead, rowing hard with both oars. Two children, a boy and a girl, sat in the cabin. Behind them came a larger boat carrying four Tibetan monks⁹ and seven or eight Mongol military officers. The officers grabbed planks and helped row. The burly man possessed extraordinary strength: every pull of his oars shot the small boat forward ten feet and more, but the larger boat had more hands, and the gap between them closed steadily. Before long, the officers and monks nocked arrows and fired at the burly man. Arrows whistled through the air with a mournful hum.

Zhang Sanfeng thought, So they want that man to hand over the children. Of all things in life, he hated most the Mongol soldiers who slaughtered Han people. He meant to intervene. He watched the burly man row with his left hand while raising his wooden oar in his right, deflecting and knocking aside every incoming arrow with swift, clean technique. Zhang Sanfeng mused, This man’s martial arts are no ordinary skill. A hero in distress, how can I stand by and watch? He shouted at the ferryman: “Boatman, head over there!”

The ferryman, already trembling with terror at the flying arrows, was struggling just to row away. How could he dare row towards the danger? He stammered, “Old… old Daoist… you… you’re joking.” Seeing the urgency, Zhang Sanfeng seized the steering oar from the ferryman, pulled it twice through the water, and the ferry swung broadside, heading straight for the small boat.

A piercing cry rang out: the boy in the small boat had taken an arrow in the back. The burly man was startled and bent to check on him. Arrows struck his shoulder and back in quick succession. His grip on the oar failed, and it tumbled into the river. The boat stopped dead. The larger boat closed in at once, and seven or eight Mongol officers and monks leaped aboard. The burly man still refused to yield. He fought back with fists and kicks, struggling desperately.

Zhang Sanfeng shouted, “Tartars, stop! Cease your brutality!” He rowed hard towards the small boat, then launched himself into the air, his wide sleeves billowing, and descended upon the boat from above.

Two Mongol officers fired arrows at him. Zhang Sanfeng flicked his sleeves and the two shafts flew far away. His right foot touched the boat’s planking, his left palm swept out, and two monks were hurled backwards ten feet or so, splash, splash, into the river. The officers watched him descend like a flying general from heaven, who had sent two formidable monks flying with a single strike, and were filled with dread. The lead officer shouted in Chinese, “You, old Daoist, what do you think you’re doing?”

Zhang Sanfeng cursed, “You Tartar dogs! Back again to terrorise the people? Get out of my sight!”

The officer said, “Do you know who that man is? He’s the last remnant of the Yuanzhou¹⁰ demonic cult rebels, a wanted criminal throughout the empire!”

Zhang Sanfeng was startled. Could he be one of Zhou Ziwang’s¹¹ men? He turned to the burly man and asked, “Is what he says true?”

The burly man, drenched in blood, cradled the boy in his left arm. Tears filled his fierce eyes. “The young master… they’ve shot the young master dead.” With those words, he admitted his identity.

Zhang Sanfeng was more startled still. “Is this Zhou Ziwang’s son?”

The man said, “It is. I failed my trust. I want this life of mine no longer.” He gently lowered the boy’s body, then lunged at the officer. But he was already wounded. The two arrows in his shoulder and back had not been removed, and their tips were poisoned. He had barely leapt when a groan escaped his lips and he collapsed onto the boat’s planks.

A little girl threw herself over a man’s corpse in the cabin, crying, “Father! Father!” The dead man’s clothes marked him as the boatman.

Zhang Sanfeng thought, If I’d known they were from the demonic cult, I might not have interfered. But I’ve already acted. I can’t turn back now. He said to the officer, “The boy is dead. The other man is poisoned and won’t last long either. You’ve earned your merit. Be on your way.”

The officer said, “No! We need both their heads.”

Zhang Sanfeng said, “Why push things so far?”

The officer demanded, “Who are you, old Daoist? What gives you the right to meddle?”

Zhang Sanfeng smiled faintly. “Why does it matter who I am? The affairs of the world are the world’s own to manage.”

The officer signalled to his men and asked, “Might I ask your religious name, Daoist Elder? At which temple did you take your vows?” Before Zhang Sanfeng could answer, two Mongol officers suddenly raised their dao and hacked at his shoulders. The blows came fast, and their edges angled towards Wuji.

Zhang Sanfeng shifted slightly, palms rising to catch both men across the back. “Off you go!” His palm-force expelled them, and they flew through the air and landed, bang, bang, squarely in the large boat they had come from. He had not fought anyone in decades, and this small exercise felt wonderfully effortless. The lead officer gaped, stammering, “You… you… could you possibly be…”

Zhang Sanfeng’s sleeves swept wide. “This old Daoist has spent his life killing Tartars!” The officers and monks felt a gust of wind strike their faces, cutting off their breath, so that for a good while none of them could draw air. When his sleeves finally settled, their faces were ashen. They cried out in unison and scrambled back to the large boat, hauled up the monks who had fallen into the water, and rowed away in frantic haste.

Zhang Sanfeng took out medicinal pills and placed them in the burly man’s mouth. He rowed the small boat alongside the ferry and was about to help him across, but the man was tough. Clutching the boy’s body in one arm and the girl in the other, he leapt lightly aboard the ferry. Zhang Sanfeng nodded inwardly: Wounded as he is, he remains this loyal to his young master. A true iron-willed hero. My intervention was rash, but a man like this deserves saving. He returned to the ferry, pulled out the poisoned arrows, and applied a salve to draw the poison and knit the flesh.

The girl watched her father’s body drift away on the small boat, weeping without cease. The burly man said, “The Tartar soldiers are vicious dogs. They shot the boatman dead the moment they arrived. If the old Daoist hadn’t rescued us, this boatman’s daughter would have died too.”

Zhang Sanfeng considered, Wuji can barely walk at present. If we lodge at Laohekou,¹² this man is a wanted criminal. Looking after two people at once, I may not manage it well. He took out three liang of silver and gave them to the ferryman. “Boatman, please row us downstream past Xianren Ford¹³ and put us ashore at Taiping.” The ferryman, who had watched him rout the Mongol officers single-handedly, already revered him deeply, and with this much silver on top, agreed eagerly and rowed the boat eastward along the river.

The burly man knelt on the planks and kowtowed. “The old Daoist saved my life. I, Chang Yuchun,¹⁴ kowtow to you, Elder.”

Zhang Sanfeng reached down and helped him up. “Hero Chang, none of this ceremony is necessary.” But when his fingers touched the man’s palm, he felt ice-cold skin and was faintly alarmed. “Hero Chang, have you also sustained internal injury?”

Chang Yuchun said, “I was escorting the young master south from Xinyang.¹⁵ We fought the Tartars’ Eagle Claw pursuers four times on the road. A Tibetan monk struck me twice: once in the chest, once in the back.”

Zhang Sanfeng took his pulse and found it faint and weak. He opened the man’s robes to examine the wounds and was even more shocked: the palm-strike sites were swollen an inch or so high, a serious injury indeed. Any ordinary man would have collapsed long ago, yet this fellow had raced a thousand li¹⁶ and fought off powerful enemies. A true hero. Zhang Sanfeng told him not to speak and to lie still in the cabin and rest.

The girl was about ten years old, her clothes threadbare, her feet bare. Though a poor boatman’s daughter, her features were delicate and lovely, a peerless beauty in the making. She sat and wept quietly. Zhang Sanfeng, moved by her pitiful appearance, asked, “Girl, what is your name?”

The girl said, “My surname is Zhou. My father said I was born in Zhijiang,¹⁷ Hunan, so he named me Zhou Zhiruo.¹⁸”

Zhang Sanfeng thought, A boatman’s daughter, but a fine name indeed. He asked, “Where is your home? Who else is in your family? We’ll ask the boatman to take you home.”

Zhou Zhiruo wept and said, “It’s just Father and me on the boat. There’s… there’s no one else.”

Zhang Sanfeng hummed. The family is destroyed. How am I to look after such a small child?

Chang Yuchun said, “Elder Daoist, your martial arts are beyond anything I’ve ever seen. May I ask your religious name?”

Zhang Sanfeng smiled. “This old Daoist is Zhang Sanfeng.”

Chang Yuchun cried out, sat bolt upright, and exclaimed, “The Elder is Zhang Sanfeng the Perfected One of Mount Wudang! No wonder your divine skill is unmatched. I, Chang Yuchun, am fortunate to meet an Immortal Elder today.”

Zhang Sanfeng smiled. “This old Daoist has merely lived a few years longer than most. What immortal? Hero Chang, lie down at once. You must not tear open your arrow wounds.” He found Chang Yuchun forthright and dashing, and took a liking to him. But knowing the man belonged to the demonic cult, he did not wish to talk at length and said coolly, “Your injuries are serious. Don’t speak more.”

Zhang Sanfeng was by nature broad-minded and held little prejudice between the orthodox and unorthodox paths. He had once told Zhang Cuishan:¹⁹ “The two words ‘orthodox’ and ‘unorthodox’ are originally very hard to distinguish. If a disciple of an orthodox faction harbours crooked intentions, then he is an unorthodox follower. If someone among the unorthodox sets his heart wholly on doing good, then he is a true gentleman.” He had also said that Yin Tianzheng,²⁰ Order Leader of the Tianying Order,²¹ though extreme in temper and eccentric in conduct, was an open and upright man, well worth a friendship. But Zhang Cuishan had killed himself, and in his grief for his beloved disciple, Zhang Sanfeng could not help but resent the Tianying Order. Third disciple Yu Daiyan crippled for life, fifth disciple Zhang Cuishan dead and his name ruined, both traced to the Tianying Order. Though he had forced down any thought of demanding vengeance from Yin Tianzheng, no matter how broad his spirit, the two characters “evil demon” carried a hatred deep within him.

Footnotes

1. 张三丰 – Zhāng Sānfēng. His name meaning “Three Peaks.” Legendary founder of the Wudang Order and creator of taijiquan; Zhang Wuji’s grandshifu. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

2. 张无忌 – Zhāng Wújì. His name meaning “Without Envy” or “No Misgivings.” Son of Zhang Cuishan and Yin Susu, and the protagonist of the tale. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

3. 汉水 – Hàn Shuǐ. The Han River, a major tributary of the Yangtze flowing through Shaanxi and Hubei provinces. ↩

4. 少林派 – Shàolín Pài. Shaolin Order, the Buddhist martial tradition originating from Shaolin Monastery. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

5. 九阳神功 – Jiǔyáng Shéngōng. Literally nine yang divine skill. A legendary internal cultivation method emphasising pure yang energy. Its automatic protective response is one of its most formidable aspects. ↩

6. 武当派 – Wǔdāng Pài. Wudang Order, the Daoist martial order founded by Zhang Sanfeng; 派 renders as “Order” for its religious character. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

7. 俞岱岩 – Yú Dàiyán. His name meaning “Lofty Cliff of Mount Dai.” Third of the Seven Xias of Wudang, crippled years before. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

8. 江湖 – jiānghú. Literally rivers and lakes. Itinerant world beyond settled society and official reach, holding not only martial artists but the trades that travel with them, including pedlars, physicians, fortune-tellers, entertainers, boatmen, beggars, outlaws and the like. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

9. 番僧 – fānsēng. Literally foreign monks. Monks from Tibet practising esoteric Buddhism under the Yuan dynasty’s patronage. ↩

10. 袁州 – Yuánzhōu. A prefecture in modern Jiangxi Province; site of Zhou Ziwang’s rebellion. ↩

11. 周子旺 – Zhōu Zǐwàng. Historical rebel leader who rose against the Yuan, proclaimed himself emperor, and was captured and beheaded; Chang Yuchun had served him. See Wikipedia. ↩

12. 老河口 – Lǎohékǒu. Town in Hubei Province at a crossing point of the Han River. See Wikipedia. ↩

13. 仙人渡 – Xiānrén Dù. Literally immortal’s ford. A crossing on the Han River. ↩

14. 常遇春 – Cháng Yùchūn. Fighter of the Ming Order who befriended Zhang Wuji; historically a founding general of the Ming dynasty. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

15. 信阳 – Xìnyáng. A city in southern Henan Province. ↩

16. 里 – lǐ. Traditional Chinese unit of distance, approximately 500 metres or a third of a mile. ↩

17. 芷江 – Zhǐjiāng. A county in western Hunan Province, named after the fragrant zhi orchid, angelica. ↩

18. 周芷若 – Zhōu Zhǐruò. Her name from two fragrant plants, angelica and pollia. Girl Zhang Wuji met briefly aboard a riverboat. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

19. 张翠山 – Zhāng Cuìshān. His name meaning “Verdant Mountain.” Fifth disciple of Zhang Sanfeng and member of the Seven Xias of Wudang. His epithet is the Silver Hook Iron Brush. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

20. 殷天正 – Yīn Tiānzhèng. White-Browed Eagle King, founding Order Leader of the Tianying Order and Wuji’s maternal grandfather. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

21. 天鹰教 – Tiānyīng Jiào. Tianying Order, founded by Yin Tianzheng the White-Browed Eagle King. 教 here is the order’s own neutral name for itself; “Cult” is the orthodox schools’ derogatory register and is not the sect’s name. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩