The Heavenly Sword & the Dragon Sabre – Chapter 27 – Part 6

Smoke and fire billowed about the tower, already licking at the feet of the trapped masters. If they did not leap soon, every one of them would perish in the blaze. Zhang Wuji raised his voice, “Second Uncle Yu, you have been as kind as a mountain to me. Could I bear to see you harmed? Please, leap first!”

Yu Lianzhou had always trusted Zhang Wuji without reserve. Even though he reckoned that, however strong the young man’s kung fu might be, he could never catch his fall, still he thought it better to be dashed to death than burned alive. He cried, “Good! I’m jumping!” With that, he sprang into the air and leapt from the tower.

Zhang Wuji watched keenly. When Yu Lianzhou was some five feet from the ground, he thrust out a palm and tapped him lightly at the waist. The palm carried the supreme art of the Great Shift of Heaven and Earth,¹ and with a subtle redirection of force he turned the great downward plunge into a lateral trajectory.

Yu Lianzhou felt only a light force upon him and flew sideways through the air, covering thirty-odd feet before he landed. His neili had already recovered seven or eight parts in ten, and with a single spin he came down steady on his feet. Without pause he struck out, sending a Mongol warrior sprawling with blood spraying from his mouth. He bellowed, “Eldest Shige,² Fourth Shidi! Jump, all of you!”

From atop the tower the rest saw Yu Lianzhou land safe and sound, and a great cheer went up.

Song Yuanqiao loved his son dearly and wished to see him clear of danger first. “Qingshu, you jump!” Song Qingshu had stood at Zhou Zhiruo’s side ever since they left the cell. He said, “Miss Zhou, leap quickly.” Zhou Zhiruo’s neili had not yet returned, and she could not go to her shifu’s aid, but she would not flee alone. Hearing Song Qingshu’s words, she shook her head. “I wait for Shifu.”

By now He Taichong, Ban Shuxian and the others had leapt one after another, and each time Zhang Wuji unleashed the Great Shift, turning a straight fall into a sideways tumble so that every one of them came clear. Though their kung fu was not yet fully restored, even five or six parts in ten was more than the host of monks and warriors could withstand. Yu Lianzhou and the rest seized weapons in moments and formed a ring about Zhang Wuji. Whenever another leapt from the tower, Wang Baobao’s men and Zhao Min’s warriors tried to intervene, only to be beaten back by Yu Lianzhou, He Taichong, Ban Shuxian and the rest. Every jumper added one more fighter to Zhang Wuji’s side. Those men and women had endured captivity in the tower, every one of them humiliated. How many had had fingers cut away none could say. Now free of their prison, each fought with a bitter fury, and in moments more than twenty warriors lay dead upon the ground.

Wang Baobao saw the tide turning against him and gave the order, “Send in my elite crossbow corps!”

Steward Ha was about to relay the Young Prince’s command when, from the south-east corner, a great pillar of fire shot into the sky. He started in alarm. “Young Prince, the Prince’s mansion is ablaze! We must ride back at once and protect the Prince!”

Wang Baobao cared for his father’s safety above all else. Forgetting the rebels, he said hastily, “Sister, I ride back first. Take every care!” Without waiting for Zhao Min’s reply, he wheeled his horse and galloped off. With Wang Baobao went the Eighteen Vajras, and more than half his warriors besides. The remainder, seeing the mansion on fire and supposing a great host of rebels must be attacking it, were thrown into panic, each man thinking only of flight.

By now Song Qingshu, Song Yuanqiao, Zhang Songxi and Mo Shenggu had all leapt from the tower, and the balance of power shifted decisively. When Abbot Kongwen and Great Master Kongzhi, with the senior monks of the Shaolin Order’s Dharma Hall and Arhat Hall followed, jumping in their turn, there was nothing left in Zhao Min’s force that could stand against them.

Zhao Min knew that if she lingered a moment longer she would end as their prisoner. She gave the order at once, “All hands, withdraw from Wan’an Monastery!”³ Then she turned towards Zhang Wuji and called, “Tomorrow at dusk, I invite you for wine again. Do be there.” Zhang Wuji hesitated, and before he could answer Zhao Min gave a brilliant smile and slipped away into the rear hall of the monastery.

From the summit of the tower came Fan Yao’s voice, bellowing, “Miss Zhou, jump quickly! The fire’s at your eyebrows! If you won’t leap, do you mean to be a beauty of charcoal?”

Zhou Zhiruo answered, “I stay with Shifu!”

Miejue had fought He Biweng fiercely for some time, and as the flames climbed higher they had risen storey by storey until they now clashed upon the roof of the tenth floor. Her neili had not fully returned, but by this point she had long since cast aside all thought of survival. Her palm-work was attack without defence. He Biweng was troubled on two counts: first, he feared for his shixiong’s safety and could not give the fight his whole mind. Second, his old wounds had not yet healed. On top of that, he had been struck by a paralysing drug not long before, and his acupoints had been sealed for so long that his limbs were still sluggish. The two fought to a standstill.

Miejue heard her disciple’s voice and cried, “Zhiruo, leap down! Do not trouble yourself about me! That thieving old wretch has insulted me beyond bearing. I must kill him!”

He Biweng cursed inwardly. The old nun is fighting to the death. If I must save Shixiong, how can I stay and perish with her in this blaze? He shouted aloud, “Miejue shitai, those words were Bitter Dhūta’s doing, not mine!”

Miejue broke off her palm-stroke and whirled on Fan Yao. “You head-shaved monk, were those mad words of yours?” Fan Yao put on a roguish grin. “What mad words?” His tone made plain what he meant her to repeat aloud: He says I am your old lover, and that Zhou Zhiruo is the bastard child you bore for him. Hearing Fan Yao’s reply, she knew at once that He Biweng had not lied. Fury shook her from head to foot. Even though she understood by now that Fan Yao had truly been the one to save her, she could not forgive him.

He Biweng saw that Miejue had turned her back to him. A gust of black smoke rolled in, and he seized the chance. Through the haze he drove both palms at her spine. Zhou Zhiruo and Fan Yao both saw the strike coming, and they cried out together, “Shifu, look out!” “Old nun, look out!” Miejue whirled and struck back, but she could not deflect both palms in time. Her left palm met He Biweng’s left, yet the Xuanming Divine Palm⁴ from his right hand struck full upon her back. The Xuanming Divine Palm was a fearsome art. Years ago on Mount Wudang even Zhang Sanfeng had met it with but a single palm in reply. Miejue staggered and nearly fell. Zhou Zhiruo cried out in alarm and rushed forward to steady her.

Fan Yao was furious. “You base, venomous wretch, why should you be allowed to live?” He lifted the bundle of bedding in which Lu Zhangke and Han Ji were wrapped and hurled it from the tower. He Biweng, his bond with his shixiong deep, acted on instinct without a thought. He lunged out, meaning to catch Lu Zhangke, but the bundle was already too far from the tower. His fingers closed upon one corner of the bedding, and the drag of it pulled him bodily after, tumbling helplessly into the fall.

Zhang Wuji stood beneath the tower. Smoke and haze blinded him to what entangled the figures above. He saw a great bundle and a man plummeting together. The bundle he could not make out, though he glimpsed what seemed a body wrapped within it. The man, he saw clearly, was He Biweng. He knew the man had committed great evil and had cost him no small share of suffering, yet he could not stand by and watch him dashed to pieces. At once he darted forward, both palms striking out to separate the bundle and He Biweng, driving them apart to left and right, a good thirty feet between them.

He Biweng spun once and landed on his feet, his heart still pounding. A narrow escape! He had never imagined that Zhang Wuji would repay enmity with kindness and save his life. He turned to look for his shixiong, and the sight that met him struck him cold. Zhang Wuji’s palm had burst the bedding apart, and two naked figures rolled out and landed squarely in the fire. Lu Zhangke’s acupoints remained sealed and he could not move, and in moments his hair and beard had caught. He Biweng screamed, “Shige!” and plunged into the flames to lift him out.

He had barely cleared the fire and found his footing when Yu Lianzhou cried, “Take this!” and struck at his shoulder. He Biweng did not dare meet the blow and dipped his shoulder to dodge. Yu Lianzhou’s palm had seemed spent, but as his shoulder sank the strike followed down, and with a crack it found him full. The pain drove a cold sweat from every pore. Saving his shixiong came first. He clutched Lu Zhangke to him and leapt clear over the high wall.

Just then another burning beam collapsed within the tower, crushing Han Ji’s corpse. In moments her body was wreathed in flame. From below the tower a chorus of voices cried, “Jump down! Jump down quickly!”

Fan Yao darted east and west, dodging the flames. The tower’s beams and pillars had burned through, and bricks and stones were crashing down. The summit swayed. The whole structure might fall at any moment. Miejue said sharply, “Zhiruo, jump!” Zhou Zhiruo answered, “Shifu, you jump first, and then I will!” Suddenly Miejue sprang up and drove a palm at Fan Yao’s left shoulder, crying, “Thieving villain of the Ming Order, you shall not escape!”

Fan Yao gave a long laugh and leapt into the void. Zhang Wuji raised a palm and sent him drifting gently away. “Right Messenger Fan, the deed is done. A feat indeed!” Fan Yao found his footing and said, “Had the Cult Leader’s divine skill not been beyond compare, every one of us would now be roast pork upon the tower. Fan Yao has done nothing worthy of praise.”

Miejue swept Zhou Zhiruo into her arms and leapt. When they were some ten feet above the ground, she channelled her remaining strength into her arms and thrust upward, pushing Zhou Zhiruo higher still. The girl, lightened of the fall, dropped the last ten feet or so and landed without harm. But Miejue’s own downward plunge redoubled in force.

Footnotes

1. 乾坤大挪移 – Qiánkūn Dà Nuóyí. The supreme secret art of the Ming Order, capable of redirecting force, reversing qi flow, and manipulating the trajectory of attacks. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

2. 师哥 – shīgē. Colloquial form of shixiong. A male senior fellow disciple of the same shifu. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

3. 万安寺 – Wàn’ān Sì. A Buddhist monastery in the Northern Capital, used by the Yuan court as a prison for captured martial artists. ↩

4. 玄冥神掌 – Xuánmíng Shénzhǎng. The Xuanming Divine Palm. A fearsome palm technique suffused with icy yin energy, capable of freezing the victim’s meridians. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩