The Heavenly Sword & the Dragon Sabre – Chapter 26 – Part 2

Zhao Min drills sword techniques against her captive opponents, forcing each to reveal his school's secrets. Zhang Wuji watches from hiding as she poisons their neili and threatens the Emei disciples.

The dark-faced Xuanming elder was the very man Zhao Min called “Master Lu Zhang” — Lu Zhangke.¹ He praised, “Our mistress is truly clever. That move was executed without the slightest error.”

Zhao Min practised the sequence again and again, each time driving the tip of the wooden jian into Mahabasi’s armpit.² Though the jian was wooden, she thrust hard, and every thrust struck the same spot — it must have been acutely painful. Yet Mahabasi concentrated fully, feeding her the moves. When the sequence reached this particular exchange, he still opened his armpit as a gap, letting her thrust at it, without the slightest thought of dodging or resentment. When she had these moves pat, she called for Wenwo’er³ to come out, to try again how He Taichong⁴ could overcome his swordplay.

Zhang Wuji now understood plainly. Zhao Min had imprisoned the leading masters of the various schools here and drugged them to suppress their neili,⁵ forcing them to surrender to the court. The prisoners naturally refused, so she had her men fight them one by one. Watching from the side, she could steal the finest moves from every school and faction. Her intent was cruel and her schemes vile — a devilish ingenuity.

Next, Zhao Min practised with He Lin the Alms-Bowl Man.⁶ When she reached the final few moves, she hesitated. She asked, “Master Lu Zhang, was it like this?”

Lu Zhangke murmured without answering, then turned and said, “Brother He, did you see it clearly?”

A voice from the left-hand corner said, “Master Ku must remember it even more clearly.”

Zhao Min laughed. “Master Ku, would you do me the honour? Please come and guide me a little.”

From the right came a tuótóu⁷ with shoulder-length hair. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his face criss-crossed with dao scars so that his original features were wholly unrecognisable. His hair was yellow-brown — he was plainly no son of the Central Plains. He said not a word, took the wooden jian from Zhao Min’s hand, and with a flurry of rapid strokes — shua, shua, shua, shua — launched an attack at He Lin the Alms-Bowl Man, using what was plainly pure, refined Kunlun School swordplay.⁸

This ascetic, whom they called “Master Ku” — the Bitter Dhūta⁹ — mimicked He Taichong’s sword moves, without using a trace of neili. He Lin the Alms-Bowl Man, however, fought with all his strength. When the bout grew fierce, he swung his staff in a wide horizontal sweep. The red candles on the right side of the hall, which had been relit, suddenly went out all at once. Against this move, He Taichong had no way to dodge. He was forced to block the iron staff with the wooden jian. Only then did the jian break and he lose. But the Bitter Dhūta’s wooden jian shifted direction abruptly. It sliced out lightly, like a swallow skimming the water’s surface, shaving along the iron staff.

He Lin the Alms-Bowl Man’s fingers, the very ones gripping his staff, were struck by the wooden jian. The acupoints at the tiger’s mouth went numb, and at once he could not hold on. With a clang, the iron staff fell to the ground and struck the blue bricks, sending chips flying.

He Lin the Alms-Bowl Man’s face flushed crimson. He knew that if the wooden jian had been a sharp blade, his eight fingers would have been severed. He bowed to the ascetic and said, “Master Ku, I yield completely.” He bent and retrieved his iron staff. The Bitter Dhūta held the wooden jian in both hands and returned it to Zhao Min.

Zhao Min laughed. “Master Ku, that last move was marvellous beyond compare. Was it also Kunlun swordplay?”

The Bitter Dhūta shook his head.

Zhao Min said, “No wonder He Taichong didn’t know it. Master Ku, teach me.”

The Bitter Dhūta mimed swordplay with empty hands while Zhao Min followed with the jian. By the third repetition, the Bitter Dhūta moved like lightning, his sword moves impossibly fast. Zhao Min could not keep up, but though her moves were slower, she still copied them precisely, without the slightest error. The Bitter Dhūta turned, thrust both hands forward, and froze in the posture.

Zhang Wuji silently applauded. Excellent! Sublime beyond measure!

Zhao Min did not understand at once. She tilted her head, studied the Bitter Dhūta’s posture, thought for a moment, and grasped it. She said, “Ah, Master Ku — if you held a weapon, that staff-strike would have hit my arm. How does one counter this move?”

The Bitter Dhūta reversed his hands into a posture. He seized an imaginary staff, kicked out with his left foot, raised his head — he had clearly disarmed the enemy of his iron staff while sending him flying with a kick. The sequence looked clumsy but was in fact supremely skilful — fiercely powerful external techniques.

Zhao Min laughed. “Good master, teach me quickly!” Her manner both coy and beguiling.

Zhang Wuji’s heart gave a thump. He thought, Your neili is not sufficient — you cannot learn this move. Yet when you beg so sweetly, it is hard to refuse. If you were to ask me, I would not know what to do.

The Bitter Dhūta made two gestures, clearly signalling: “Your neili is insufficient. There is no way to learn it.” He turned and walked away, ignoring her.

Zhang Wuji mused, “This Bitter Dhūta’s martial skill seems no less than the Twin Xuanming Elders.¹⁰ Though I do not know how his neili fares, his moves are so miraculous that he would be a formidable foe. He only uses gestures and never speaks — could he be mute? Yet his ears are not deaf. Miss Zhao shows him marked courtesy — this man must have a significant background.”

Seeing the Bitter Dhūta would teach no more, Zhao Min smiled faintly, not angry. She said, “Bring Tang Wenliang of the Kongtong School.”¹¹

Before long, Tang Wenliang¹² was escorted into the hall. Lu Zhangke assigned three men to spar with him. Tang Wenliang, unwilling to be at a disadvantage with weapons, fought empty-handed with palm strikes. He won the first two bouts. In the third, his opponent surged his neili. Tang Wenliang could not match it and likewise lost a finger to the blade.

This time, as Zhao Min practised her moves, Lu Zhangke guided her from the side. By now, Zhang Wuji had discerned the pattern. Zhao Min’s neili was plainly insufficient, and she knew it could not be built up quickly. So she sought to learn the finest moves from all the schools and factions, hoping to become a great master. He reflected that this path was indeed feasible — when moves are practised to perfection, they can greatly compensate for insufficient cultivation.

After practising palm techniques, Zhao Min said, “Bring that old nun Miejue!”¹³

A yellow-robed man reported, “The old nun Miejue has refused food for five days. Today she remains as stubborn as ever and will not obey.”

Zhao Min laughed. “Let her starve, then! Well, bring Zhou Zhiruo, that young girl of the Emei Order.”¹⁴

Her subordinate agreed and turned to go.

Zhang Wuji had always been grateful for Zhou Zhiruo’s attentive care on the Han River boat all those years ago. At Bright Peak, Zhou Zhiruo had shown him how to shift positions by numerological calculation, through which he had been able to withstand the combined sword and dao attacks of the Huashan and Kunlun schools. Later, when she had thrust a jian at him, that was under her shifu’s strict orders — she could not disobey. And her jian-trajectory had gone wide — plainly she had spared him out of kindness. Now, hearing Zhao Min order her brought, his heart tightened for a moment.

A group of yellow-robed men escorted Zhou Zhiruo into the hall. Zhang Wuji saw that she was as clear and beautiful as ever, only slightly more wan than she had been at Bright Peak. Though in enemy hands, she remained composed and self-possessed, as though she had long since placed life and death beyond consideration.

Lu Zhangke asked her, as was his wont, whether she would surrender. Zhou Zhiruo shook her head and said nothing.

Lu Zhangke was about to send someone to duel her with jian when Zhao Min said, “Miss Zhou, so young and already a distinguished disciple of the Emei Order — truly enviable. I hear you are Miejue’s favoured disciple, deeply taught her venerable sword techniques — is that so?”

Zhou Zhiruo said, “My shifu’s martial arts are vast and profound. As for transmitting her venerable sword techniques to me, I am young and shallow in learning — far from adequate.”

Zhao Min laughed. “The rule here is simple: whoever can defeat our three people will be sent safely from these gates without the slightest further trouble. Why does your venerable shifu set herself so high and deem us unworthy of a martial exchange?”

Zhou Zhiruo said, “My shifu would rather die than suffer disgrace. As the zhangmen¹⁵ of the Emei Order, how could she deign to scrape out a life under your hands? You are right — my shifu indeed holds you vile and vicious wretches in contempt and deems you unworthy of her moves.”

Zhao Min was not angry. She laughed. “And what of you, Miss Zhou?”

Zhou Zhiruo said, “I am but a young woman. What opinions could I have? As my shifu says, so I do.”

Zhao Min said, “Your shifu told you not to fight us either, did she? And why was that?”

Zhou Zhiruo said, “The Emei Order’s swordplay, though it cannot be called any great secret art, is nevertheless the martial art of a righteous Central Plains faction. It must not be stolen by shameless foreign barbarians.” Her manner was gentle and refined as she spoke, but her words were sharp, sparing not a shred of face.

Zhao Min started, not expecting her own designs to have been divined by Miejue. Hearing Zhou Zhiruo’s “vile wretches” on one side and “shameless barbarians” on the other, she could not help but feel anger. With a soft hiss, the Heavenly Jian¹⁶ was in her hand. She said, “Your shifu calls us shameless thieves. Very well! I would ask — this Heavenly Jian is plainly my family’s heirloom. How could the Emei Order have stolen it?”

Zhou Zhiruo said coolly, “The Heavenly Jian and the Dragon-Slaying Dao¹⁷ have always been the two supreme treasures of the Central Plains wulin.¹⁸ I have never heard they had any connection to a foreign woman.”

A flush rose to Zhao Min’s face. She snapped, “Hmph! I did not expect your tongue to be so sharp. Are you determined not to fight?”

Zhou Zhiruo shook her head.

Zhao Min said, “When others lose a bout or refuse to fight, I take one of their fingers. You, little girl, are likely so proud of your pretty face that you grow arrogant. I will not take your finger.” She pointed at the Bitter Dhūta. “I will have you scarred like this great master — twenty or thirty jian-cuts across that pretty face. Let us see if you are still proud then.” She waved her left hand lightly, and two yellow-robed men rushed forward, seizing Zhou Zhiruo’s arms.

Zhao Min smiled. “To carve your pretty face into a hornet’s nest, I need not even use any refined Emei swordplay. Do you think my three-cat scratches¹⁹ cannot turn you into a monster?”

Zhou Zhiruo’s eyes brimmed with tears, her body trembling. She saw the tip of the Heavenly Jian barely a few inches from her cheek. If this demoness flicked her wrist forward, in an instant she would be like that hideous, terrifying ascetic.

Zhao Min laughed. “Are you afraid?”

Zhou Zhiruo no longer dared defy her and nodded.

Zhao Min said, “Good! So you surrender?”

Zhou Zhiruo said, “I will not surrender! Kill me if you wish!”

Zhao Min laughed. “I never kill anyone. I will only cut a little of your flesh.”

A faint glint of cold light flashed — the jian in Zhao Min’s hand slashed towards Zhou Zhiruo’s face. Suddenly, with a clang, something was hurled in from outside the hall and struck the Heavenly Jian aside. At the same moment, the tall windows of the hall shattered and a figure flew in. The two yellow-robed men holding Zhou Zhiruo were flung backwards against their will. The figure who had crashed through the windows swept back his left arm to shield Zhou Zhiruo. He thrust out his right palm and met Lu Zhangke’s palm. With a crash, both retreated two paces.

When everyone looked at the newcomer, it was none other than Zhang Wuji, Order Leader of the Ming Order.²⁰

His arrival was like a flying general descending from the sky. Everyone was startled. Even the Twin Xuanming Elders, mighty masters as they were, had not the slightest warning beforehand. Hearing the windows break, Lu Zhangke immediately rushed to shield Zhao Min. He exchanged a palm-strike with Zhang Wuji and, astonishingly, could not hold his ground — he retreated two paces. When he tried to surge his qi for another attack, in an instant his whole body became unbearably hot, as if he had stepped into a furnace.

Footnotes

1. 鹿杖客 – Lù Zhàngkè. Literally Deer-Staff Guest. One of the Twin Xuanming Elders, so named for the deer-horn staff he carries. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

2. 摩诃巴思 – Móhē Bāsī. A foreign fighter in Zhao Min’s service. ↩

3. 温卧儿 – Wēnwò’ér. Another foreign fighter in Zhao Min’s service. ↩

4. 何太冲 – Hé Tàichōng. Zhangmen of the Kunlun School. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

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

6. 黑林钵夫 – Hēilín Bófū. A fighter bearing a black alms bowl, in Zhao Min’s service. ↩

7. 头陀 – tóutuó. A wandering Buddhist ascetic who practises austerities, carrying only a handful of possessions. ↩

8. 昆仑剑法 – Kūnlún Jiànfǎ. High-altitude sword techniques from the Kunlun Mountains — cold, direct, and isolating. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

9. 苦头陀 – Kǔ Tóutuó. Literally Bitter Ascetic. A scarred, mute dhūta in Zhao Min’s service, of mysterious origin and extraordinary skill. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

10. 玄冥二老 – Xuánmíng Èr Lǎo. The Twin Xuanming Elders, Lu Zhangke and He Biweng, masters of the Xuanming Divine Palm. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

11. 崆峒派 – Kōngtóng Pài. The Kongtong School, one of the righteous factions of the Central Plains wulin. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

12. 唐文亮 – Táng Wénliàng. A senior disciple of the Kongtong School. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

13. 灭绝师太 – Mièjué Shītài. Zhangmen of the Emei Order. Her dharma name Miejue means “Extinction”. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

14. 峨嵋派 – Éméi Pài. The Emei Order, a Buddhist martial faction on Mount Emei. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

15. 掌门 – zhǎngmén. Sect leader. Literally “gate-keeper”. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

16. 倚天剑 – Yǐtiān Jiàn. The Heavenly Jian, one of the two supreme weapons of the wulin, forged from the Heavy Iron Sword. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

17. 屠龙刀 – Tú Lóng Dāo. The Dragon-Slaying Dao, the other supreme weapon of the wulin, forged from the same Heavy Iron Sword as the Heavenly Jian. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

18. 武林 – wǔlín. Literally martial forest. The community of martial artists and their factions, distinct from but overlapping with the jianghu. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

19. 三脚猫 – sān jiǎo māo. Literally three-legged cat. A colloquial idiom for mediocre or amateurish skill — a creature that can barely walk. Zhao Min uses it self-deprecatingly. ↩

20. 明教 – Míng Jiào. The Ming Order, a secretive martial faction with roots in Persian Manichaeism. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩