The Heavenly Sword & the Dragon Sabre – Chapter 21 – Part 4

Zhang Wuji smiled and said, "The martial arts of the world all arrive at the same destination by different roads. To draw rigid divisions between schools and factions is an artificial contrivance. This Dragon Claw Hand[^longzhaoshou] of seizing and grappling need not be the exclusive property of your honoured school." Yet inwardly he felt a quiet admiration. *This Dragon Claw Hand is fearsomely powerful. It must have been refined over several centuries at Shaolin Monastery[^shaolin] through countless trials, until it can truly be called an invincible art. Had I not answered it with the Dragon Claw Hand itself, and tried to win with some other fist technique, the victory would indeed have been exceedingly difficult. Moreover, the fist and palm methods I have studied cannot match even the second- and third-rate figures within the Shaolin Order. How could I hope to prevail against one of the three great Divine Monks of Shaolin, Divine Monk Kongxing[^kongxing] here?*

Kongxing lowered his head in silent deliberation, unable for the moment to fathom the principle behind it. In skill with the Dragon Claw Hand, even his shixiong¹ Kongwen and Kongzhi, and indeed his shixiong Kongjian of blessed memory, all fell short of himself. Then how had this youth, twice in succession, managed to strike after yet arrive first? And not only that: his method of issuing the move, the force behind it, its direction and target, all combined steadiness with swiftness, as though he possessed the cultivation of decades of bitter training. For an instant his thoughts turned to Chan Master Kuhui of Western Regions Shaolin, but Chan Master Kuhui did not know the Dragon Claw Hand. That was common knowledge among the high monks of the monastery. The affair could have nothing to do with Western Regions Shaolin.

He stood silent and stupefied. The gaze of the thousand-odd persons gathered in the square was fixed upon his face. The two combatants’ exchange of blows had been over in a flash, two swift moves and then apart. Save for the foremost masters among the onlookers, none had perceived who won and who lost. But they saw Zhang Wuji composed and at ease, whilst Kongxing’s brow was creased in bitter thought. Clearly the better man had been decided.

Suddenly Kongxing gave a great shout and launched himself forward. His hands moved like a whirlwind and a deluge. Seizing the Wind, Catching the Shadow, Stroking the Zither, Beating the Lute, Striking the Throat, Praying to the Void, Embracing the Remnants, Guarding the Deficient, eight moves in an unbroken chain, he pressed his attack with ferocious speed. Zhang Wuji, his spirit calm and his qi steady, answered each in kind. Seizing the Wind and Catching the Shadow, Stroking the Zither and Beating the Lute, Striking the Throat and Puncturing the Void, Embracing the Remnants and Guarding the Deficient, eight moves to match, each delivered after yet arriving before.

Divine Monk Kongxing’s eight-move chain of the Dragon Claw Hand flowed on without cessation, like eight variations within a single technique, swift beyond measure. Yet Zhang Wuji was swifter still, and every move seized the initiative. Each time Kongxing struck, he was forced a step back. By his seventh step retreat, he brought out Embracing the Remnants and Guarding the Deficient with the steadiness of a mountain. These two were the thirty-fifth and thirty-sixth moves of the Dragon Claw Hand, the final pair. At a glance they seemed riddled with openings, as though the practitioner’s hands were flailing in desperate defence. In truth, these two moves, though appearing to defend, in fact attacked. Great skill wears the mask of clumsiness. Every apparent flaw concealed a trap of lethal potency. The Dragon Claw Hand’s fundamental path was one of hard and fierce power, but by the last two moves, hardness and ferocity gave way to a hidden softness and yield. It had reached the realm where artifice returns to simplicity, where mastery is perfected.

Zhang Wuji uttered a clear whistle and stepped forward. The two moves of Embracing the Remnants and Guarding the Deficient he answered with feints, then suddenly transformed into a single strike, Seizing the Clouds, and drove straight into the centre.

Kongxing’s heart leapt with joy. At last you have fallen into my trap. He saw that the young man’s right arm was already sunk deep within his encirclement, with no hope of withdrawing the whole body unscathed. At once he wheeled his palms in a circling strike and with a sharp exhale brought them crashing down towards the young man’s arm. Kongxing was a monk of profound cultivation. Seeing that this youth commanded Shaolin’s supreme art, he feared there might indeed be some hidden connection with their school. Moreover, in the earlier exchanges the young man had plainly caught his vital acupoints and deliberately withdrawn his hand to spare him. So this strike too he did not press with killing intent, seeking only to shatter the right arm and be done with it. But the instant the edges of his palms touched the young man’s right arm, he felt a soft yet heavy force issue from that arm and arrest his own descending palms. At that very moment, Zhang Wuji’s right hand’s five fingers had already settled lightly upon the cluster of acupoints about Kongxing’s Danzhong.²

In that single instant, Kongxing’s heart was filled with a vast despair. All that he had felt for decades of bitter training, his fame as a hero of the jianghu,³ all dissolved into a waking dream. He nodded slowly and said, “I concede defeat. Benefactor Zeng, you are far surpassing me in skill. I acknowledge it fully and yield without reserve.” His left hand seized the five fingers of his right, gathering his neili⁴ to snap them. But at once he felt a numbness at his left wrist, and all his force drained away. It was Zhang Wuji’s fingers, brushing lightly across the acupoints there. He heard the young man say in a clear voice, “I have defeated Great Master with the Shaolin Order’s own Dragon Claw Hand. What harm does that do to Shaolin’s renown? Had I not used Shaolin’s supreme art against Great Master, there exists no second art in the world that could have gained the slightest advantage over you.”

Kongxing, in that surge of bitterness, had meant to break his own five fingers and never speak of martial arts again for the rest of his life. But hearing these words, and seeing that the young man’s speech and conduct at every turn protected his school’s honour. Had it been otherwise, the Shaolin Order’s prestige of a thousand years would have been ruined beyond recovery in his hands, and he himself made the great sinner of the Shaolin school. He was overwhelmed with gratitude. Tears glistened in his eyes as he pressed his palms together and said, “Benefactor Zeng, your righteousness and benevolence surpass me. I am both grateful and full of admiration.” Zhang Wuji bowed deeply and said, “I have shown disrespect towards a senior. I must beg Great Master’s forgiveness.”

Kongxing smiled faintly and said, “That the Dragon Claw Hand, in Benefactor Zeng’s hands, could wield such power, I never dreamed of it even in sleep. When opportunity permits, I hope you will honour our monastery with a visit. I will do my utmost as host, and seek your instruction further.” In the wulin,⁵ when one spoke of “seeking instruction,” it often carried a challenge within it. But Kongxing’s tone was sincere. He truly admired the young man’s martial skill, acknowledged himself outmatched, and sought to learn in earnest. This meaning all who heard it understood.

Zhang Wuji hastened to say, “I would not presume, I would not presume. The Shaolin Order’s martial arts are vast and profound. I am young and shallow in learning. I can only hope that, some day, I may have the opportunity to ask Great Master for further guidance.” These words came from the heart, and he spoke them with the utmost sincerity.

Within the Shaolin Order, Kongxing’s status was exceedingly high. Though by nature simple and without talent for administration, so that he held no important office in the monastery, both his character and his martial skill were universally respected among the monks. From Kongzhi downward, seeing him thus, felt their spirits dampened. Yet they also felt a quiet gratitude to Zhang Wuji for preserving the school’s face. All agreed that, given the day’s events, there was no way the Shaolin Order could now press further and demand another contest.

Divine Monk Kongzhi was the leader of this six-faction assault upon the Ming Order.⁶ Seeing the situation as it stood, he felt sorely embarrassed. The demonic cult’s destruction was at hand, yet this nameless youth had thrust himself in to obstruct it. Were they to withdraw now, would not the heroes of the world laugh their teeth out? Unable to make up his mind, he cast a sidelong glance towards Xianyu Tong,⁷ the zhangmen⁸ of the Huashan School, known as Shenjizi, and signalled with his eyes.

Xianyu Tong was resourceful and full of schemes, the strategist of this siege upon the Ming Order. Seeing Divine Monk Kongzhi’s signalling glance, he at once folded his fan with a light flourish and stepped slowly forward.

Zhang Wuji saw that the newcomer was a scholarly man of forty-odd years, with delicate brows and clear eyes, handsome and elegant in bearing. He felt a natural liking towards him at once, and cupped his fists, saying, “Greetings! May I ask what this Senior has to instruct me in?” Xianyu Tong had not yet answered when Yin Tianzheng said, “This is Xianyu Tong, zhangmen of the Huashan School. His martial arts are mediocre, but his tricks are many.”

At the name Xianyu Tong, Zhang Wuji thought, That name sounds so familiar. When did I hear it before? He saw Xianyu Tong halt a dozen feet away, plant his feet, and cup his fists in return, saying, “Young Xia Zeng, greetings!” Zhang Wuji returned the courtesy, saying, “Greetings, Xianyu zhangmen.”

Xianyu Tong said, “Young Xia Zeng’s divine skill is without peer in the world. You have defeated the elders of Kongtong one after another, and even the Divine Monk of Shaolin has yielded to you. This one is filled with admiration. May I ask which senior of lofty attainment received you as a disciple, and trained forth so rare a young hero as the world has not seen in recent ages?”

Zhang Wuji had been pondering all along when he had heard Xianyu Tong’s name mentioned, and did not answer the question.

Xianyu Tong threw back his head with a loud laugh and said, “May I ask, Young Xia Zeng, why you harbour such reluctance to speak of your own school and origins? The ancients said, ‘Seeing a worthy man, think of emulating him. Seeing one unworthy…’”

At the words “seeing a worthy man, think of emulating him,” Zhang Wuji was struck suddenly by the memory of “seeing death and refusing to save.” At once he recalled that, eight years ago, in Butterfly Valley,⁹ Hu Qingniu¹⁰ had told him: the Huashan School’s Xianyu Tong had caused the death of his younger sister. At that time, young Zhang Wuji had thought in his childish heart: This Xianyu Tong is so vile. If he escapes retribution someday, where is Heaven’s justice? Now, concentrating, he recalled Hu Qingniu’s words clearly: “A young man in the Miao territories had been struck by Golden Silkworm Gu Poison,¹¹ and it was certain death. I spent three days and three nights without sleep, exhausting my heart’s blood to save him. I swore brotherhood with him, and our bond was as that of flesh and blood. Yet in the end, he caused the death of my own flesh-and-blood sister… Alas, my poor sister… The two of us, brother and sister, lost our parents when we were young. We depended upon each other for all we had.” When Hu Qingniu spoke these words, his face a map of wrinkles, his eyes glistening with tears, the grief in his bearing had moved Zhang Wuji deeply. Hu Qingniu had said too that he had sought revenge several times afterwards, but because the Huashan School was large and well-populated, and Xianyu Tong was cunning and clever, Hu Qingniu had nearly lost his own life instead.

Thinking upon this, his brows drew together and his eyes flashed bright as he fixed his gaze upon Xianyu Tong. He recalled too that Xianyu Tong had once had a disciple named Xue Gongyuan,¹² who, after being wounded by Golden Flower Granny, had been saved by Zhang Wuji himself, only later to try to boil him alive and eat him. Master and disciple, both repaying kindness with enmity, both depraved and shameless villains. Xue Gongyuan was dead. But this Xianyu Tong here must be properly punished. He gave a faint smile and said, “I have never been stricken in the Miao territories by a poison that must surely kill me, nor have I caused the death of any sworn brother’s sister. What reluctance could I possibly harbour?”

Xianyu Tong, hearing these words, trembled in his whole body. A cold sweat broke out along his back. In those years, after Hu Qingniu had saved his life, he had fallen in love with Hu Qingniu’s younger sister, Hu Qingyang.¹³ Hu Qingyang had given herself to him, and even conceived a child. But Xianyu Tong, later coveting the position of Huashan School zhangmen, abandoned Hu Qingyang and married the only beloved daughter of the then-Huashan zhangmen. Hu Qingyang, in shame and bitter grief, took her own life. A tragedy of two lives lost. This affair Xianyu Tong had concealed so thoroughly that not a breath escaped. He had never imagined that, after more than twenty years, this youth would expose it before the assembled multitude. How could he not be seized by panic and dismay? At once a vicious thought arose: This youth has somehow learnt my secret. He must be dealt with at once, and ruthlessly. He cannot be allowed to live another moment, or if he spreads this abroad, what then? In an instant he composed himself as before and said, “Since Young Xia Zeng will not reveal his school, this one will test Young Xia Zeng’s fine skill. We shall stop when a touch is landed. I hope you will show mercy.” With that, his right palm stood slanted, and his left palm fell chopping towards Zhang Wuji’s shoulder. He said loudly, “Young Xia Zeng, make your move!” giving Zhang Wuji no further chance to speak.

Zhang Wuji understood his intention. Casually he raised his palm and gently deflected the blow, saying, “The Huashan School’s martial arts are superb. Whether one tests them or not makes no difference. It is rather Xianyu zhangmen’s skill in repaying kindness with enmity, in forgetting obligation and betraying trust, that surpasses all others…”

Footnotes

1. 师兄 – shīxiōng. Male senior. Both apprenticed to the same shifu. Shī means teacher. Xiōng means older brother. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

2. 膻中 – shàn zhōng. The Danzhong acupoint, located at the centre of the chest. A vital acupoint in internal cultivation. ↩

3. 江湖 – jiānghú. Literally rivers and lakes. The itinerant world beyond settled society and official reach, holding not only martial artists but the trades that travel with them. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

4. 内力 – nèilì. Internal power. The kinetic manifestation of qi cultivated through neigong. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

5. 武林 – wǔlín. The martial forest. The community of martial artists and their schools. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

6. 明教 – Míng Jiào. The Ming Order, the revolutionary cult at the centre of the story. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

7. 鲜于通 – Xiānyú Tōng. Zhangmen of the Huashan School, known by the sobriquet Shenjizi. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

8. 掌门 – zhǎngmén. The head of a martial school or order. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

9. 蝴蝶谷 – Húdié Gǔ. Butterfly Valley, where the Physician Hu Qingniu lived and practised. ↩

10. 胡青牛 – Hú Qīngniú. The Physician of the Ming Order, known for his refusal to treat those outside the cult. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

11. 金蚕蛊毒 – jīn cán gǔ dú. Golden Silkworm Gu Poison, a lethal poison from the Miao territories. ↩

12. 薛公远 – Xuē Gōngyuǎn. A disciple of Xianyu Tong. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

13. 胡青羊 – Hú Qīngyáng. Hu Qingniu’s younger sister, who took her own life after being abandoned by Xianyu Tong. ↩