The Heavenly Sword & the Dragon Sabre – Chapter 24 – Part 4

The four of them made their way to the Three Pure Ones Hall. Within they saw the place crowded with heads, some seated, some standing, a dark press of three or four hundred souls in all.

Zhang Sanfeng¹ took his place in the centre of the hall and offered a Daoist greeting as courtesy, but spoke no word. Yu Daiyan² raised his voice and said, “This is my grand shifu,³ Zhang Sanfeng the Perfected One. You gentlemen have come to Mount Wudang.⁴ What is your business here?”

Zhang Sanfeng’s great name shook the wulin,⁵ and for a moment every eye in the hall was fixed upon him. They saw a man in a filthy grey Daoist robe, his beard and brows white as silver, his frame tall and commanding, but otherwise nothing out of the ordinary.

Zhang Wuji⁶ studied the crowd. He saw that half of them wore the garb of the Ming Order,⁷ whilst the foremost dozen or so each wore their own school’s dress, as though to set themselves above pretence and unwilling to pass themselves off as others. Monks and laymen, tall and short, several hundred packed the hall. It was impossible to make out each man’s face in detail.

Just then they heard a voice from beyond the gate, calling in long drawn-out syllables, “The Cult Leader arrives!” Those within the hall fell instantly silent. The dozen leaders at the front hurried out to receive the newcomer, and the rest followed at a quick pace. In the blink of an eye, the great hall had emptied of its hundreds.

Then came the sound of a dozen sets of footsteps, drawing near from the distance and halting beyond the hall. Zhang Wuji peered through the doorway and could not help a start. Eight great men bore a great sedan chair of yellow satin, with seven or eight more in attendance before and behind, halted at the very threshold. The eight bearers were none other than the Eight Heroes of the Divine Arrow of Green Willow Villa.⁸

A thought struck Zhang Wuji. He scooped up handfuls of dirt and ash from the floor and smeared them at random across his face. Mingyue, thinking he was terrified at the approach of a great foe and had lost his wits in disfigurement, imitated him without a moment’s thought and daubed his own face with ashes. In an instant the two young Daoists looked like a pair of Kitchen Gods pulled from the stove, unrecognisable as themselves.

The sedan chair’s door was lifted, and from within stepped a young nobleman in robes of white, embroidered with a blood-red flame upon the cloth. He fanned himself with a folded fan. It was Zhao Min,⁹ in man’s attire. Zhang Wuji thought, So it is she behind all this mischief. No wonder the Shaolin Order was routed so utterly.

She walked into the hall, with a dozen or more followers at her heels. A great-shouldered, burly fellow stepped forward, bent at the waist and said, “Reporting to the Cult Leader: this old Daoist before us is the Wudang Order’s Zhang Sanfeng, and that cripple must be his third disciple, Yu Daiyan.”

Zhao Min nodded and advanced several paces. She closed her fan with a snap and bowed deeply to Zhang Sanfeng, her fist pressed to her palm. “I, Zhang Wuji, Cult Leader of the Ming Order, am honoured at last to behold the Mount Tai and Northern Dipper of the wulin. What fortune is mine!”

Zhang Wuji was furious. He cursed inwardly, You thieving girl! Impersonating the Cult Leader of the Ming Order is one thing, but to steal my very name and deceive my grand shifu!

Zhang Sanfeng, hearing the name “Zhang Wuji,” was most puzzled. How is it that the Cult Leader of the demonic cult is a fair young woman, and that her name should match my own Wuji? He pressed his palms together in return and said, “I knew not the Cult Leader honoured us with her presence. Forgive me for not coming further to greet you.” Zhao Min said, “You are too kind, you are too kind.”

The welcoming Daoist led the fire-tending Daoist boys forward and presented tea. Zhao Min sat alone in a chair, whilst her followers stood at a distance behind her, hands folded at their sides, not one daring to come within five feet of her, as though fearful of showing disrespect or offending her.

Zhang Sanfeng, through a hundred years of cultivation, had long since attained a modest and untroubled heart, with all things passing beyond its reach. But his bond with his disciples was deep, and for the life and death of Song Yuanqiao and the rest he was grievously concerned. He said, “Several of my disciples, thinking too highly of their own skill, went to your honoured cult to seek instruction in your marvellous arts. They have not returned to this day. I should be most grateful if the Cult Leader would tell me what has become of them.”

Zhao Min gave a little laugh. “Song daxia, Yu the Second Xia, Zhang the Fourth Xia and Mo the Seventh Xia, of the Seven Xias of Wudang,¹⁰ are at present in the hands of our cult. Each has sustained a slight injury, but their lives are in no danger.” Zhang Sanfeng said, “A slight injury? Surely not! More likely they have been poisoned.” Zhao Min laughed. “Perfected One places great store by the Wudang Order’s supreme arts. If you say they have been poisoned, then poisoned they are.” Zhang Sanfeng knew full well that each of his disciples was a first-rate master of the age. Even if outnumbered, several ought to have escaped to bring word back. If all had been taken in a single stroke, they must have fallen to some silent, undetectable poison the enemy had employed. Seeing that he had guessed aright, Zhao Min made no further pretence and admitted it frankly.

Zhang Sanfeng asked again, “And my young disciple surnamed Yin?” Zhao Min sighed. “The Sixth Xia fell into a trap laid by the Shaolin Order. His fate is precisely the same as this Third Xia here. His four limbs have been broken by the Great Strength Vajra Finger.”¹¹ “He will not die, but nor will he ever move again.” Zhang Sanfeng, reading her face and manner, knew at once she spoke no falsehood. A pain seized him at the heart, and with a cry he spewed a mouthful of bright blood.

Those behind Zhao Min exchanged glances of delight. Their men had succeeded in the surprise assault. This Wudang master was gravely wounded. The only man they had feared was Zhang Sanfeng, and now they need fear him no longer.

Zhao Min said, “I have a word of good counsel to offer. I wonder if Perfected One would deign to hear it?” Zhang Sanfeng said, “Speak.” Zhao Min said, “All under heaven is the King’s land; to the furthest shores, all are the King’s ministers. Our Mongol Emperor’s might extends across the four seas. Were Perfected One to pledge his allegiance, the Emperor would at once bestow a peerless title, and the Wudang Order would be showered with glory and favour, just as in years past our Founding Emperor ennobled Changchun the Perfected One¹² of the Quanzhen Order¹³ and placed him over all the Daoist schools of the realm. As for Song daxia and the rest, they would be restored to perfect health without a moment’s difficulty.”

Zhang Sanfeng raised his head and gazed at the roof-beam. “The Ming Order,” he said coldly, “may do many unjust things and act as it pleases, yet it has always set its face against the Mongols. Since when has it entered the service of the Court? This old Daoist must be most woefully ill-informed.”

Zhao Min said, “To forsake the dark and turn towards the light, only those who read the times aright are called heroes and brave men. From the Shaolin Order, from Kongwen and Kongzhi the Divine Monks downward, every one has pledged allegiance and sworn loyalty to the Court. Our cult merely follows the course of events and trails in the wake of the realm’s worthies. What is there so strange in that?”

Zhang Sanfeng’s eyes flashed like lightning as he gazed straight at Zhao Min. “The Yuan are cruel and tyrannous, and have done great harm to the common people. The heroes of the realm rise on every side, precisely to drive out the barbarians and restore our rivers and mountains. Every son and grandson of the Yellow Emperor harbours in his heart the wish to drive out the Tatars. That is the true course of events. This old Daoist, though he dwells beyond the world, knows well where right and wrong lie. Kongwen and Kongzhi are Divine Monks of this age. How could they bend to mere force? And you, young lady, why do you speak such muddled nonsense?”

Suddenly a great fellow darted from behind Zhao Min and bellowed, “You old Daoist! You know not the weight of your own words! The Wudang Order shall be wiped out to the last man. You old Daoist may not fear death, but do you suppose every one of the hundred-odd Daoists and disciples on this mountain shares your contempt for life?” The man’s voice was deep and full of breath. He was tall and broad-shouldered, and his bearing most imposing.

Zhang Sanfeng chanted in a long, clear voice: “Since olden days has every man been subject to death. / Leave but a loyal heart to shine upon the pages of history.” These were two lines from a poem by Wen Tianxiang.¹⁴ When the Mongol iron cavalry swept south and Wen Tianxiang met his death with unflinching courage, Zhang Sanfeng was still young, and he had held that heroic chancellor in the deepest admiration. He had often sighed that in those days his martial arts were yet incomplete, for otherwise he would surely have risked his life to rescue him from his plight. Now, facing the brink of life and death, the verses rose to his lips unbidden. He paused, then added, “Yet even Chancellor Wen was not without his own rigidity. He sought only to leave behind a loyal heart, and cared not how the histories should judge him.” He glanced at Yu Daiyan and thought, Yet I too wish this Taiji Fist to be handed down to later ages. Am I not, like Chancellor Wen, clinging to a name beyond my death? In truth, so long as one’s deeds offend neither Heaven nor Earth, what matter whether the Taiji Fist and Sword are passed on, or whether the Wudang Order endures?

Zhao Min’s jade-white left hand waved gently, and the burly fellow bowed and withdrew. She smiled faintly. “Since Perfected One is so obstinate, let us speak no more of it for now. I ask all of you to come with me.” She rose to her feet as she spoke, and four figures behind her stirred and closed about Zhang Sanfeng in a ring. One was the burly fellow, one a man in rags patched a hundred times, one a lean, spare monk, and the last a bearded man with green eyes, a hu from the Western Regions.

Zhang Wuji, watching these four, saw that their movements were some grave and steady, others light and drifting, each plainly no mean opponent. He was taken aback. How is it that this young lady commands so many masters of the highest order? He saw that if his grand shifu refused to go with them, the four would attack at once. Zhang Wuji thought, The enemy’s masters are many, and they are a crafty, shameless lot who care nothing for honour or pledged word. They are worse by far than the six schools that besieged Bright Peak. It will be no easy matter to protect my grand shifu and Third Shibo.¹⁵ Even if I defeat several of them, they will never accept defeat. They will swarm in together. The matter has come to this: there is nothing for it but to stake everything. The best course would be to seize this young lady herself and force the rest to yield.

He was on the very point of stepping forth and checking the four, when from beyond the door came a long, chilling laugh. A green-clad figure flashed into the hall. The man moved swift as a ghost, swift as the wind and the lightning, and in an instant was behind the burly fellow, his palm striking out. The burly man did not even turn. He threw back a palm of his own, meaning to meet force with force in a test of hard neigong.¹⁶ But before the blow could land, the stranger’s left palm had already struck at the hu from the Western Regions on the shoulder. The hu man dodged aside and lashed out with a kick at the stranger’s belly. The stranger had already shifted his attack to the lean monk, then slanted backwards in retreat, his left palm striking at the man in tattered robes. In the space of a single breath, he had struck four times at four masters of the highest order. Though not one blow found its mark, the swiftness of his technique was beyond compare. The four, knowing they faced a formidable foe, each sprang back several paces and steadied themselves for battle.

The green-clad man paid them no further heed. He bowed deeply to Zhang Sanfeng and said, “Wei Yixiao,¹⁷ a humble follower under the Ming Order’s Cult Leader Zhang, pays his respects to Perfected One!” This man was none other than Wei Yixiao, the Green-Winged Bat King.¹⁸ He had shaken free of the enemies who dogged him along the road and pressed on at top speed to arrive.

Footnotes

1. 张三丰 – Zhāng Sānfēng. Founder and Patriarch of the Wudang Order, formerly known as Zhang Junbao. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

2. 俞岱岩 – Yú Dàiyán. Third disciple of Zhang Sanfeng, one of the Seven Xias of Wudang. Crippled by enemies. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

3. 真人 – zhēnrén. Literally “True Person.” A Daoist honorific title for one who has attained great spiritual cultivation, here applied to Zhang Sanfeng. ↩

4. 武当山 – Wǔdāng Shān. The sacred Daoist mountain in Hubei, headquarters of the Wudang Order. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

5. 武林 – wǔlín. Literally “martial forest.” The community of martial artists and their factions. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

6. 张无忌 – Zhāng Wújì. Protagonist of The Heavenly Sword and the Dragon Sabre, son of Zhang Cuishan and Yin Susu. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

7. 明教 – Míng Jiào. The Ming Order, a revolutionary cult opposing Yuan rule, based at Bright Peak. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

8. 神箭八雄 – Shénjiàn Bā Xióng. The Eight Heroes of the Divine Arrow, eight elite marksmen once of Green Willow Villa, now in Zhao Min’s service. ↩

9. 赵敏 – Zhào Mǐn. Daughter of the Prince of Ruyang, a brilliant strategist who often disguises herself as a man. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

10. 武当七侠 – Wǔdāng Qī Xiá. The Seven Xias of Wudang: Song Yuanqiao, Yu Lianzhou, Yu Daiyan, Zhang Songxi, Zhang Cuishan, Yin Liting and Mo Shenggu, the seven disciples of Zhang Sanfeng. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

11. 大力金刚指 – Dàlì Jīngāng Zhǐ. Literally Great Strength Vajra Finger. A Shaolin finger technique capable of crushing bones and severing sinews. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

12. 长春真人 – Chángchūn Zhēnrén. The Daoist master Qiu Chuji (1148–1227), leader of the Quanzhen Order, who was honoured by Genghis Khan with the title Changchun Zhenren and placed over all Daoist schools in the realm. ↩

13. 全真教 – Quánzhēn Jiào. The Quanzhen Order, a major Daoist school. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

14. 文天祥 – Wén Tiānxiáng (1236–1283). Song Dynasty chancellor and national hero who resisted the Mongol invasion and was executed upon refusal to surrender. The poem quoted is from his famous Passing Lingdingyang. ↩

15. 师伯 – shībó. Senior lineage uncle. The shixiong or shijie of one’s shifu. Here Zhang Wuji addresses Yu Daiyan as Third Shibo, as Yu Daiyan is the third disciple of Zhang Wuji’s father’s shifu, Zhang Sanfeng. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

16. 内功 – nèigōng. Internal cultivation; the training of neili through meditation and breathing exercises. Distinct from neijia (internal cultivation as a school). See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

17. 韦一笑 – Wéi Yīxiào. The Green-Winged Bat King, one of the Four Guardian Kings of the Ming Order, renowned for his qinggong. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

18. 青翼蝠王 – Qīngyì Fú Wáng. The Green-Winged Bat King, Wei Yixiao’s epithet among the Four Guardian Kings of the Ming Order. ↩