The Heavenly Sword & the Dragon Sabre – Chapter 33: Long Flutes, Short Zithers, and Robes of Flowing Yellow

Long flutes, short zithers, and robes of flowing yellow.

Zhang Wuji went to fetch his horse, and he and Zhao Min rode together straight for the pass. He thought to himself that if his sworn father had fallen into the hands of the Beggars’ Guild, they would surely use him to coerce the Ming Order, and so would not harm him for the time being, though humiliation would be inevitable. But Zhiruo was pure and spotless as ice and jade. If she encountered the treachery of Chen Youlun and the baseness of Song Qingshu, and they tried to force her hand, she would have no recourse but death. At this thought, he wished he could sprout wings and fly to Lulong. Yet Zhao Min was wounded and could not ride sleeplessly without rest. Moreover, he dared not show too much concern for Zhou Zhiruo in her presence.

That night, the two of them lodged at a small inn. Zhang Wuji lay on the kang, growing more worried the more he thought. He went to Zhao Min’s window and listened. Her breathing was even and deep. She was sunk in fragrant slumber. He went to the counter, took up brush and inkstone, tore a page from the account book, and hastily scribbled a note saying that to save his sworn father was a matter of extreme urgency, and he had decided to travel through the night. When the deed was done, he would seek a pleasant rendezvous with her. He urged her to nurse her wound carefully and return at a leisurely pace. He weighted the page with the inkstone, leapt out the window, and sped southward with all his might.

The next morning, he purchased horses, changing mounts constantly along the way, riding day and night without rest. Within a few days, he had reached Lulong. But despite his rapid pursuit, he had not encountered Chen Youlun and Song Qingshu on the road. Presumably, when he had set out during the night, Chen, Song, and the Bowl-Bearing Dragon Head had been sleeping at an inn, and so they had passed each other by.

Lulong was a major town in Hebei. During the Tang dynasty, it had been the seat of the military commissioner. During the Song and Jin dynasties, it had seen several battles and was heavily devastated, its vitality still not fully recovered. Nevertheless, it remained densely populated. Zhang Wuji walked through every street and alley, every teahouse and wineshop in Lulong. Strangely enough, he did not encounter a single beggar. He was inwardly pleased. “For such a large city to have no beggars on the streets is most extraordinary. Chen Youlun said the Beggars’ Guild was gathering here. That was likely no lie. The beggars of all sizes in the city must have gone to pay their respects to the guild chief. I need only find their assembly place, and I can discover whether my sworn father and Zhiruo have truly been captured by the Beggars’ Guild.” He searched through temples, ancestral halls, abandoned gardens, and mineral works in the city, but found no clue. He then went to investigate villages in the outskirts, but still saw nothing unusual.

By evening, the longer he searched, the more anxious he became. He could not help thinking of Zhao Min’s virtues: “If she were by my side, I would certainly not be so helpless.” He had no choice but to find an inn for the night. After dinner, he napped briefly, then waited until the second watch. He leapt onto the rooftops and gazed in all directions. All was quiet in every direction, with not the slightest sign of martial arts figures gathering. Just as he was growing frustrated, he noticed a light still burning in the upper story of a tall building to the southeast. He thought, This household must be either rich or noble. They should have nothing to do with the Beggars’ Guild… As the thought crossed his mind, he seemed to glimpse shadows flickering, someone leaping from the building’s window. The distance was too great to see clearly. He mused, Could bandits be raiding this wealthy household? I have nothing better to do. I might as well go take a look.

He unfurled his qinggong and raced to the great mansion. Vaulting over the wall, he heard someone say, “Elder Chen is being entirely too meddlesome. It was clearly agreed that everyone would gather at Laohekou on the sixteenth of the first month, but then he sends a fast dispatch ordering us to wait here. He’s not the guild chief. Why should whatever he says go? Outrageous!” The voice was loud and indignant, clearly discussing Beggars’ Guild business. Zhang Wuji was overjoyed.

The voices came from the main hall. Zhang Wuji crept closer and heard a gruff voice say, “Elder Chen is quite something, isn’t he? That blasted Xie Xun the Golden-Haired Lion King. The whole jianghu has been searching for him for over twenty years, and not a soul has managed to catch so much as a whisker of his. But Elder Chen captured him as easily as plucking a flower. Not only is there no one in our guild who can match that, but in the entire wulin, who else could have accomplished it?” Zhang Wuji was both startled and delighted. He had heard this gruff voice before at the Maitreya Temple. He knew it belonged to the Beggars’ Guild Chief Shi Huolong. His sworn father’s whereabouts were now known, and the Beggars’ Guild had no particular experts among their ranks. Rescuing his sworn father should not be difficult. He pressed his eye to a crack in the latticed window and peered inside.

He saw Shi Huolong seated in the centre. The Transmission Elder, the Law Enforcement Elder, the Staff-Bearing Dragon Head, and three Eight-Bag Elders sat below. There was also a middle-aged fat man in splendid attire, looking every inch a wealthy gentleman, yet carrying six cloth bags on his back. Zhang Wuji nodded inwardly. “I see. So there’s a wealthy merchant in Lulong who is a Beggars’ Guild disciple. Beggars gathering at a rich man’s house, who would ever think of that?”

He heard Shi Huolong continue, “Since Elder Chen has sent an urgent dispatch for us to wait at Lulong, he must have his reasons. We are plotting great affairs, and by damn, this… this requires the utmost caution.” The Staff-Bearing Dragon Head said, “Guild Chief, your humble brother has a proposal. The heroes of the jianghu seek Xie Xun for the Dragon-Slaying Dao, Supreme in the Wulin. But since that blade is not in Xie Xun’s possession, no matter whether we coax or threaten, he refuses to reveal its whereabouts. We’ve captured a blind man for nothing. Aside from feeding him wine and rice, what use is he? In my humble opinion, we should subject him to severe torture and see whether he talks or not.”

Shi Huolong waved his hand. “Inadvisable, inadvisable. Using force might backfire. Let us wait until Elder Chen arrives, then deliberate further.” The Staff-Bearing Dragon Head’s face showed displeasure, seemingly resentful that the guild chief deferred to Chen Youlun in everything.

Shi Huolong produced a letter and handed it to the Staff-Bearing Dragon Head. “Brother Feng, depart immediately for Haozhou and deliver this letter to Han Shantong. Tell him his son is with us, safe and sound. If Han Shantong pledges allegiance to our guild, I will treat his son with special favour.” The Staff-Bearing Dragon Head said, “For such a trivial errand as delivering a letter, surely your humble brother need not go in person?”

Shi Huolong’s expression darkened slightly. “In the past half year, Han Shantong and his lot have been making quite a flourishing commotion. I hear his subordinates, that whole pack of Guo Zixing, Zhu Yuanzhang, Xu Da, Chang Yuchun, Tang He, and Deng Yu, all have quite a bit of damned fighting ability. I need Brother Feng to go personally. First, to persuade Han Shantong to submit to our guild, good and proper, and to observe what he and his generals are planning. Second, to investigate what sort of strange business this Ming Order army is up to. Brother Feng’s burden is no light thing. How can you call it trivial?” The Staff-Bearing Dragon Head dared say no more and replied, “I shall follow the guild chief’s orders.” He took the letter, bowed to Shi Huolong, and left the hall.

Zhang Wuji continued listening. They spoke only of how, after the Ming Order, Shaolin, Wudang, and Emei orders all submitted, the Beggars’ Guild would become supremely powerful and illustrious. This Shi Huolong’s ambitions seemed less grand than Chen Youlun’s. His words suggested that he would be fully satisfied if the Beggars’ Guild dominated the jianghu and reigned supreme over the wulin. He had no aspirations toward seizing the empire or becoming emperor. His language was coarse and vulgar, utterly crude. After listening for a while, Zhang Wuji grew bored and thought, It seems my sworn father and Zhiruo are imprisoned here. I will rescue them first, then teach these boastful beggars a proper lesson. He leapt lightly into a tall tree and looked around. He saw a dozen or so Beggars’ Guild disciples patrolling below the tower with weapons in hand. He surmised this was where Xie Xun and Zhou Zhiruo were being held.

He slipped down from the tree, crept close to the tower, and hid behind a rockery. When two patrolling disciples turned away, he darted to the base of the tower and vaulted upward. The upper story was brightly lit. He crouched outside the window and listened for movement within. After listening for a while, there was not the slightest sound from the room. He was greatly puzzled. “How can there be no one inside? Could there be experts hidden within, capable of holding their breath for extended periods?” After another while, still hearing no breathing, he leaned toward the window crack and peered in. Two large candles on the table had burned more than halfway down, but the room was empty.

The upper story had three rooms in a row. Seeing the east room was unoccupied, he moved to the west room window and peered in. The room was brightly lit. On the table, cups and dishes were scattered in disarray, with tableware for seven or eight people. Cups still held dregs of wine, and dishes had barely been touched. Yet there was no one present, as though the diners had left shortly after beginning their meal. The middle room, however, was pitch dark with no lamp. He gently pushed the door, but it was bolted from within. He called softly, “Sworn Father, are you here?” No answer came.

Zhang Wuji thought, It seems my sworn father is not here. But why are the Beggars’ Guild people guarding so tightly? Could they be employing the strategy of making the real seem false and the false seem real? Suddenly, he caught the scent of blood drifting from the middle room. His heart lurched. He placed his left hand on the door and channeled a thread of neili. With a soft crack, the bolt snapped in two. He immediately slipped inside and caught the two broken halves of the bolt before they could fall and make a sound.

He had taken only one step when his foot caught on something soft. It felt like a human body. He bent down and felt a corpse. The person had no breath, yet the face still held a trace of warmth, indicating death had not been long in coming. He felt the head. It was small with a pointed chin, not Xie Xun. He was relieved. Another step, and he trod on two more bodies. He pierced two small holes in the west wall with his finger. Lamplight filtered through. The floor was covered with corpses lying every which way, all Beggars’ Guild disciples, all having suffered severe internal injuries. He lifted one body and tore open its shirt. A fist print was clearly visible on the chest, the ribs shattered beneath it. The fist force was tremendously powerful.

Zhang Wuji was elated. “My sworn father has displayed his divine might, slain the guards, and broken out on his own.” He searched the room and indeed found, in the corner of the wall, a flame symbol scratched with a sharp instrument, the emblem of the Ming Order. He also saw that the window latch was broken and the window was loosely shut. He thought, Of course. The shadow I saw leaping from the building earlier was my sworn father making his escape. But how did he come to be captured by the Beggars’ Guild? He must have been blinded and unable to guard against their tricks. They must have used either drugged incense or tripping ropes, barbed hooks, fishing nets, or the like to capture him.

His heart brimmed with joy. He slipped out of the room, pressed himself against the doorway, and looked down. The beggars were still patrolling back and forth, completely unaware of what had happened upstairs. He thought, My sworn father hasn’t been gone long. I’ll catch up with him, and the two of us will come back and turn this place upside down, showing these beggars what the Ming Order is capable of. He had seen the dark figure heading west. He leapt up, bounded off a tall tree, cleared the wall, and sped westward with all his strength.

Following the main road for several li,¹ he came to a fork. Searching the area, he found a flame symbol painted on a rock, pointing toward a small path to the southwest. Zhang Wuji was overjoyed. His sworn father’s trail was now clear, and he would soon see him. He had heard Yang Xiao explain all the Ming Order’s various signals and codes for communication and guidance in detail. Though this flame symbol was only a few strokes, the lines were bold and vigorous. Among the Ming Order, few besides a man of Xie Xun’s literary and martial accomplishments could have drawn it.

He no longer had any doubts. He followed the small path and pursued the trail all the way to Shayi. By then, dawn had broken. He bought some steamed buns at an eating house to stave off hunger and continued west to Bangzi Town. There, at the corner of a wall at the street’s edge, he found a flame symbol pointing toward a dilapidated ancestral hall. His heart leapt with joy, certain his sworn father was hiding inside. He walked through the door and heard a raucous clamour of shouts and dice. A crowd of ruffians and ne’er-do-wells had gathered in the main hall, gambling away. It was a gambling den.

Footnotes

1. 里 – lǐ. Traditional Chinese unit of distance, approximately 500 metres or a third of a mile. ↩