The Heavenly Sword & the Dragon Sabre Chapter 3 Part 2

Yu Daiyan observed that the white-robed stranger’s techniques clearly derived from the Shaolin tradition,¹ yet his strikes were sinister and vicious, utterly unlike the righteous, forthright methods for which that illustrious school was renowned. After several exchanges, the old man wielding the iron hammer bellowed, “Who are you? If you want this blade, at least leave your name!”

The white-robed stranger gave three more cold laughs but offered no reply. In a sudden blur of movement, he spun and struck with both hands. Two sharp cracks sounded in quick succession; the wrists of the man to the west snapped in unison, and the hammer flew from the eastern attacker’s grip. The great iron hammer shot upward, crashed through the roof, and plummeted into the courtyard with a tremendous bang. This old man bent and snatched up a pair of iron tongs, reaching into the furnace to seize the great blade.

The man standing to the south had hidden weapons at the ready, waiting for an opening, but the white-robed stranger moved too swiftly for him to find one. Now, seeing his eastern companion reach for the blade with tongs, he suddenly thrust his bare hand into the furnace and grasped the hilt first, snatching it out. The instant his palm closed around it, white smoke billowed forth, and the stench of scorched flesh reached every nostril—his right palm had been seared through. Yet still he would not release it.

Clutching the blade, he staggered backward and nearly fell. His left hand shot up to brace the spine of the blade, and only then did he steady himself. It seemed the weapon was too heavy for one hand alone, but in doing so his left palm also began to sizzle against the heated metal.

Everyone froze in astonishment. In that moment of hesitation, the old man fled with the great blade in both hands, racing toward the door.

The white-robed stranger sneered. “You think it will be that easy?”

His arm extended and seized the man’s back. The old man swept the blade backward in a desperate counter. Before the blade arrived, a wave of searing heat washed over the stranger’s face; his sideburns and brows curled and singed. He dared not block the stroke. Instead, he channelled his strength through his grip and hurled the old man—blade and all—toward the blazing furnace.

Yu Daiyan had thought these men all equally ruthless and vicious, and with no stake in the matter, he had seen no need to intervene. But now, seeing the old man’s life hanging by a thread—the moment he struck the furnace he would be reduced to charred bone—Yu Daiyan knew that saving a life took precedence over all else. He soared upward, twisted in mid-air, reached down, caught the old man by the topknot, and with a deft lift alighted gently to one side.

Both the white-robed stranger and the Three Birds of Long White² had noticed him standing there all along but had had no opportunity to deal with him. Now, witnessing this display of supreme qinggong, all were taken aback.

The white-robed stranger’s long brows rose. “Is that the famed Ladder to the Clouds?”³

Yu Daiyan started slightly at hearing him name his technique, yet felt a touch of pride. My Wudang Order’s arts are renowned throughout the realm; our fame has spread far and wide.

He said, “I dare not presume. May I ask your honourable name? This humble skill of mine is hardly worth mentioning.”

The white-robed stranger replied, “Very well. The Wudang Order’s qinggong does indeed have some merit.”

His tone was exceedingly arrogant. Yu Daiyan felt a flare of anger but kept it in check. “Earlier on the road, you killed a Sea Sand Gang expert with a single strike. Your techniques are truly unfathomable.”

A chill passed through the stranger’s heart. So you witnessed that. I never noticed you. Where were you hiding?

He said blandly, “Quite so. My martial arts are not easily understood by others. Never mind you—even the Wudang Order’s zhangmen,⁴ that old man Zhang, may not comprehend them.”

Yu Daiyan’s anger mounted at this insult to his shifu, yet disciples of the Wudang Order were taught to cultivate their minds and tempers. He thought, He provokes me deliberately—who knows what scheme he harbours? His techniques are strange indeed. There is no need to make a powerful enemy for my school over a few discourteous words.

He smiled faintly and said, “There are countless martial schools beneath heaven; what our Wudang Order has learned is but a single drop in the ocean. As for techniques such as yours—resembling Shaolin yet not quite Shaolin—I expect my shifu likely does not recognise them.” Though spoken with courtesy, the underlying meaning was plain: the Wudang Order had no interest in understanding such heterodox methods.

The stranger’s face changed colour at the words “resembling Shaolin yet not quite Shaolin.”

The two traded barbs. Meanwhile, the old man to the south still gripped the white-hot blade with his bare hands, his flesh charred and burned nearly to the bone, yet he clenched his teeth against the agony and refused to let go. The two old men to east and west crouched, tensed, each waiting for a chance to seize the blade.

Suddenly the southern old man swung the great blade in a wild arc and charged for the door. He was not aiming at anyone in particular, but Yu Daiyan stood directly in his path, squarely in the line of the sweeping blade. He had not expected that after saving this man’s life, the fellow would instantly turn on him. He leapt upward, narrowly avoiding the edge.

The old man clutched the hilt with both hands, slashing and hacking in a frenzy as he burst through the gate. His foot struck something and he pitched forward with a wail of agony, as though suddenly struck by some grievous wound.

The white-robed stranger and the other two old men sprang after him, each reaching for the blade. But the moment their hands touched ground, all three cried out as one, as though bitten by some venomous serpent. The white-robed stranger merely stumbled, then recovered and fled into the darkness. The three old men, however, writhed upon the earth, unable to rise.

Yu Daiyan beheld this horrific scene and was about to leap to their aid when a sudden realisation stayed him: the Sea Sand Gang had been scattering salt around the building, and by now the entire perimeter was covered in poisoned salt. He could not leave that way either. Glancing about, he spotted two long benches just inside the gate on either side. He seized them, set them upright, and mounted one with each foot, as though walking on stilts. In this manner he advanced eastward. Looking down, he saw the three old men screaming in agony as they rolled about on the ground.

Yu Daiyan tore a strip from his robe, wrapped it around his hand, reached down, and grasped the southern old man by the back of his collar. Walking on the stilted benches, he hurried east. The old man still clutched the burning blade against his chest; his robes were charred through.

This turn of events caught the Sea Sand Gang members entirely off guard. Just as the prize seemed within reach, someone had appeared from nowhere and snatched away the precious blade. They swarmed out, shouting curses, and a volley of steel darts and sleeve arrows flew at Yu Daiyan’s back.

Yu Daiyan thrust downward with both feet, driving the benches hard against the ground and launching himself forward by more than a zhang. Every projectile fell short. With the benches hooked upon his feet, his stride effectively lengthened by four feet, and in just four or five steps he had left the Sea Sand Gang men far behind. He heard them crying out in pursuit, but Yu Daiyan, bearing the old man aloft, soared into the air, kicked backward, and sent the two benches flying.

Two heavy thuds sounded, followed by three or four anguished shouts—the benches had struck true. In that brief delay, Yu Daiyan had already covered more than thirty feet, and though he carried another man, he only ran faster. The Sea Sand Gang pursuers could not hope to catch him.

Yu Daiyan pressed on at speed. The crash of waves grew louder; no pursuit sounded behind him. He asked, “How do you fare?”

The old man groaned but did not answer, then let out a low moan. Yu Daiyan thought, His body is covered in poisoned salt. I must wash it off at once.

He made his way to the shore and lowered the man into the shallows. The seawater struck the scalding blade in his hands; it hissed and spat, and white steam billowed upward. The old man hovered between consciousness and stupor. After soaking for a time, he could not rise. Yu Daiyan was about to reach down and pull him up when a great wave rolled in and washed the old man onto the sand.

Yu Daiyan said, “You are out of danger now. I have urgent business and cannot accompany you further. Let us part here.”

The old man struggled to sit up. “You… why do you not… take this precious blade?”

Yu Daiyan smiled. “Fine though the blade may be, it is not mine. How could I simply seize it?”

The old man was utterly bewildered, unable to believe what he heard. “You… what scheme are you plotting? How do you mean to deal with me?”

Yu Daiyan said, “I have no quarrel with you. Why would I deal with you at all? I happened to pass through tonight, saw that you were poisoned and wounded, and so I lent a hand.”

The old man shook his head, his voice harsh. “My life is in your hands. If you mean to kill me, then kill me. But if you think to use some cruel method against me, know that even as a ghost I shall not let you rest.”

Yu Daiyan knew that after his injuries the man’s mind was addled; there was no point arguing with him. He smiled faintly and was about to walk away when another great wave washed up onto the shore. The old man groaned and collapsed into the surf, shivering uncontrollably.

Yu Daiyan thought, If one saves a life, one should see it through. This old fellow is badly poisoned. If I abandon him now, he will surely perish in the sea.

He reached down, grasped the man by the back of his robe, and carried him up a small rise. Scanning the horizon, he spotted a building atop a jutting promontory to the northeast—by its shape, some manner of temple. He bore the old man there at a run and, squinting at the plaque above the entrance, made out the characters “Temple of the Sea God.”⁵ He pushed open the door and entered. The temple was crude and simple, the floor thick with dust, and no caretaker was in sight.

Footnotes

1. 少林派 – Shàolín Pài. The Shaolin School, the martial arts tradition originating from Shaolin Monastery. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

2. 长白三禽 – Chángbái Sānqín. Literally three birds of Long White. Three martial experts from the Changbai Mountains region. ↩

3. 梯云纵 – Tīyún Zòng. Literally ladder to the clouds. Signature qinggong technique of the Wudang Order. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

4. 掌门 – zhǎngmén. Head of a martial school. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

5. 海神庙 – Hǎishén Miào. A temple dedicated to the god of the sea, common in coastal communities. ↩