The Heavenly Sword & the Dragon Sabre – Chapter 34 – Part 3

The two great banners had barely passed when suddenly, from the crowd to the west, white light flashed in quick succession. Two ranks of flying daggers shot straight out, aimed at the two flagpoles. Each rank comprised seven blades in an unbroken series. The seven daggers planted themselves neatly in the flagpole. Though the pole was thick, the seven blades hacked and hewed at it until it swayed, toppled, and broke with two great whooshes, crashing down from mid-air. Anguished cries went up as a dozen or more people were pinned beneath the fallen timber. The common folk shouted and scattered, all crumbling into chaos.

The upheaval came without warning, as unexpected to Zhang Wuji and the others as to anyone. Han Lin’er was so delighted he was about to cheer, when suddenly a soft, limp palm clapped over his mouth. It was Zhou Zhiruo, restraining him in time.

Several hundred Mongol soldiers drew their weapons and began searching through the crowd for the troublemakers. Zhang Wuji noted that the force behind those fourteen flying daggers had been formidable, clearly the work of a skilled hand in the wulin.¹ But the press of onlookers blocked his view, and he could not see who had thrown them. If even he had not seen, the Mongol soldiers could only blunder about at random. Before long, seven or eight men were dragged out of the crowd, crying, “Injustice…” Their blades and spears fell together, and the Mongol soldiers killed them on the spot in the middle of the street.

Han Lin’er was furious. “The men who threw the daggers are long gone. Do you suppose these spineless soldiers could catch them? Instead they slaughter common folk to vent their anger.”

Zhou Zhiruo whispered, “Han dage,² hold your tongue! We came to watch the Grand Parade, not to raise havoc in the Imperial City.”

Han Lin’er said, “Very well.” He dared say no more.

After the confusion subsided, the music struck up again. Troupes of performers swallowing swords and breathing fire passed by, followed by all manner of secret arts from the Western Regions, and the common folk cheered without pause, seeming to have forgotten the blood spilled in the street only moments before. After them came troupes of puppet shows and jugglers spinning jars and plates. Still further behind, handsome horses drew gaily painted floats, and upon each float fair boys and beautiful girls acted out scenes from legend: “Tripitaka’s Journey to the Western Heaven,” “Emperor Xuanzong of Tang Visiting the Moon Palace,” “Li Cunxiao Fighting the Tiger,” “Liu, Guan, and Zhang Thrice Battling Lu Bu,” “Scholar Zhang Meeting Yingying Beneath the Moon,” and more, each vying with the next in ingenuity and splendour. Zhang Wuji and his two companions had grown up in out-of-the-way places and had never beheld such magnificence. All three silently admitted that today they were seeing the world.

Each float bore brocade banners inscribed with the name of its donor: “Your servant, so-and-so, Left Vice-Administrator of the Huguang Province, presents this tribute,” or “Your servant, so-and-so, Right Vice-Administrator of the Jiangzhe Province, presents this tribute.” The further the procession advanced, the higher the rank of the donor, and the more lavish the float. The boys and girls acting out the scenes wore ever greater profusions of pearls and jewels, their hairpins and necklaces fashioned from precious jade and gemstone. The Mongol princes and ministers, each vying to outdo the others in wealth and curry favour with the Emperor, spared no expense in adorning their tribute floats.

Amid the strains of silken pipes and bamboo flutes, a float depicting the play Liu Zhiyuan and the White Rabbit rolled past. Suddenly the music changed to an ancient, stately air. Upon the float a white cloth banner bore the words “Duke of Zhou Expelling Guan and Cai.” In the float a middle-aged man held a court tablet, playing the Duke of Zhou. Beside him sat a child in the robes and crown of a Son of Heaven, playing King Cheng. Two ministers, Lord Guan and Lord Cai, whispered to each other and pointed at the Duke of Zhou.

The next float bore a banner reading “Wang Mang’s False Benevolence and False Righteousness.” In it, Wang Mang’s face was painted white with powder, and both his hands were full of gold and silver, which he distributed among a group of shabby scholars. Behind this float came four cloth banners, upon which were written four lines of verse:

“When the Duke of Zhou feared slander’s tide, Wang Mang played the humble, bowing far and wide. Had both men died at that selfsame hour, Who could tell the loyal heart from the traitor’s power?”

Zhang Wuji’s mind stirred. “Right and wrong in the world are not so easily known. The Duke of Zhou was a great sage, yet when he banished Lord Guan and Lord Cai, everyone said he plotted to seize the throne. Wang Mang was a consummate villain, yet at first he won the hearts of men, and the whole world sang his praises. My sworn father told me both these stories on Ice Fire Island. As the saying goes, a long road tests a horse’s strength, and time reveals a man’s heart. The truth of worldly affairs cannot be discerned in a day.” He thought further, “These two floats differ markedly from all the rest. They plainly conceal a deeper meaning. The man who arranged them must be a person of learning.” He recited the four lines of verse to himself twice.

Suddenly came the clatter of broken gongs. A float drawn by two lean horses rolled up, plain and unadorned. When the common folk saw it from afar, they burst into laughter. “Even that piece of junk dares parade through the Imperial City? It will set everyone’s jaws agape!”

As the float drew nearer, Zhang Wuji saw it clearly and was seized with alarm. In the float sat a great man with yellow hair falling to his shoulders and eyes shut tight, cross-legged upon a couch, the very image of the Golden-Maned Lion King Xie Xun.³ Beside him a beautiful young girl in black clothing held a tea bowl and waited on him attentively. Though her features were not as ethereal as Zhou Zhiruo’s, her dress and manner were the very same as when she had been atop the pagoda at Wan’an Monastery.

Han Lin’er blurted, “Miss Zhou, that person looks just like you.”

Zhou Zhiruo gave a snort and said nothing. Zhang Wuji turned to look at her. Her face was ashen, her breast heaving with anger. Knowing she was furious, he reached out and took her right hand in his. He could not fathom what this float was meant to convey.

The actress playing the young girl smiled gaily, circled round behind the man playing the lead, extended two fingers, and suddenly thrust hard at the fake Xie Xun’s back. The fake Xie Xun cried “Ah!” and toppled backwards off the couch. The fake Zhou Zhiruo planted her foot upon him and raised her jian, about to strike. The common folk roared their approval: “Well done, well done! Kill him quickly!” Then six or seven men dressed as Beggars’ Guild members boarded the float and seized both the fake Xie Xun and the fake Zhou Zhiruo.

Zhang Wuji could harbour no further doubt. This float was surely Zhao Min’s doing. She must have known he and Zhou Zhiruo were coming to Dadu, and so arranged this insult to humiliate her. He bent down, picked up two small pebbles from the ground, flicked them with his middle finger, and with twin hissing sounds struck both lean horses in the right eye. The stones pierced through to the brain. The horses gave two piteous whinnies, collapsed, and died. The float overturned, and the actors tumbled to the ground. The street erupted in chaos once more.

Zhou Zhiruo bit her lower lip and whispered, “That wretched girl has shamed me so. I… I…” Her voice broke. Zhang Wuji felt her slender hand cold as ice, her body trembling. He hastened to comfort her. “Zhiruo, that little wretch thinks up all manner of outlandish tricks. Pay her no heed. So long as my heart is true to you, what harm can another’s scheming do?”

Even as they spoke, the Mongol officers had quelled the crowd and dragged away the dead horses. The floats resumed their procession, one after another. Zhang Wuji and Zhou Zhiruo were occupied with what had just passed and had no heart to watch the performances upon the floats. When the last float had passed, chanting arose in waves. Troupes of Tibetan monks in crimson kasaya robes marched past. After the monks came the clash of iron armour. Two thousand armoured guards of the Imperial Forest, each bearing a long spear, filed by in formation, followed by three thousand archers.

When the archers had passed, coils of incense smoke swirled about the street. Gods sat in sedan chairs, borne by porters in brocade robes: the Earth God, the City God, the Spirit Officer, Skanda, the God of Wealth, the Eastern Peak, and many other foreign gods and Buddhist deities: Indra, Mahakala, Vaishravana, the Four-Faced Buddha, three hundred and sixty gods in all. The last was the Holy Emperor Lord Guan.⁴ The common folk murmured prayers, and some knelt to worship.

After the gods came the honour guard with golden melons and golden hammers, feather fans and jewelled parasols, passing in pairs. The common folk cried as one, “The Emperor comes! The Emperor comes!” Far off they glimpsed a great sedan chair of yellow silk, borne by thirty-two guards in brocade. Zhang Wuji gazed at the Mongol Emperor. His face was haggard, his bearing listless. A glance showed he was a man ruined by wine and women. The Crown Prince rode beside him on horseback, and he bore himself with no small dash. A gold-inlaid, jewel-encrusted longbow hung at his back, every inch a Mongol horseman.

Han Lin’er whispered in Zhang Wuji’s ear, “Order Leader, let me rush forward and put a dao through that Tartar emperor’s body. It would rid the world of a great scourge.”

Zhang Wuji said, “No. You must not go. Among the Tartar emperor’s guards there will surely be many masters. Unless I go myself…”

Suddenly a voice at Zhang Wuji’s left spoke, “That will not do. Meeting violence with violence has never proved the way.”

Zhang Wuji, Han Lin’er, and Zhou Zhiruo all started and turned to look. The speaker was a man of some fifty years, a pedlar of medicines, a medicine pouch on his back and a tiger’s support⁵ in his right hand. The man raised both thumbs, held them side by side before his chest, and made the Ming Order’s flame gesture. He whispered, “Peng Yingyu⁶ pays respects to the Order Leader. I rejoice that the Order Leader is well.”

Zhang Wuji was overjoyed. “Ah, you are Peng…” The man was none other than Peng the Monk. He had disguised himself so cunningly that he had been standing beside them for some time without any of the three noticing. Peng Yingyu whispered, “This is no place for talk. The Tartar emperor cannot be removed.” Zhang Wuji, knowing him to be a man of great wisdom, nodded and said no more. He reached out, took the man’s left hand, and shook it gently.

After the Emperor and Crown Prince had passed, another three thousand armoured guards of the Imperial Forest marched by, and then tens of thousands of common folk followed in their wake. The people lining the streets cried, “Let us go see the Empress and the Princesses!” Everyone pressed westward.

Zhou Zhiruo said, “Let us go too.”

The four of them pushed through the crowd and reached the outer precincts of Yude Hall. Seven great painted towers rose into the sky, and outside them guards of the Imperial Forest held rattan canes and drove away idlers. Though the crowd was thick, it was easy work for the four of them to press forward, and before long they stood before the towers. In the tallest tower at the centre sat the Emperor, flanked by two Empresses, both stout middle-aged women, wrapped from head to foot in pearls and jewels, radiating a splendour beyond describing. Upon their heads towered crowns of an extraordinary and exotic fashion. The Crown Prince sat at the lower left, and at the lower right a young woman of twenty or so in a brocade robe, presumably the Princess.

Zhang Wuji’s gaze wandered to the second tower on the left, where a young girl wore a coat of sable fur and a necklace of pearls. She laughed enchantingly, her bright eyes glancing this way and that, beautiful beyond compare. It was Zhao Min. Beside her the Princess seemed to lose all colour. He gazed at her a long while, and had Zhou Zhiruo not been at his side, he could not have torn his eyes away. In the middle of the tower sat a long-bearded prince of majestic bearing, undoubtedly Zhao Min’s father, Chaghan Temur,⁷ the Prince of Ruyang. Zhao Min’s brother, Köke Temür, paced back and forth in the tower, his gaze keen as a hawk and his stride bold as a tiger’s, every inch a fierce warrior.

The Tibetan monks were now performing the “Heavenly Demon Grand Array” before the towers. Five hundred men sounded their ritual instruments, wheeling left and right, leaping high and crouching low, the formations shifting with marvellous ingenuity. The common folk roared their approval.

Zhou Zhiruo gazed at Zhao Min a long while, then sighed. “Let us go back.”

The four of them pushed out of the crowd and returned to the inn. Peng Yingyu performed the formal greeting due to the Order Leader, and each told of what had befallen them since they parted. When Zhang Wuji asked after Xie Xun’s whereabouts, Peng Yingyu said he had only just arrived from the Huai and Si rivers and did not know Xie Xun had returned to the Central Plains. He spoke of how Zhu Yuanzhang,⁸ Xu Da,⁹ Chang Yuchun,¹⁰ and the others had in recent years taken city after city and won battle after battle, their fame eclipsing even that of the rebellion’s nominal leader Han Shantong.¹¹ Seeing Han Lin’er at his side, he passed over the matter with a word and said no more. Another rebel army, under Xu Shouhui, was thriving in the Huguang region. Liu Futong, Sesame Li, Peng Junyong, Mao Gui, and others rose up one after another, and the court was hard-pressed to answer them all. Only in the Taizhou region did Fang Guozhen, and in Pingjiang Prefecture Zhang Shicheng, make common cause with the Ming Order’s enemies.

Han Lin’er said, “Great Master Peng, had we rushed up into the tower and cut the Tartar emperor down with a single stroke, would that not have settled the matter once and for all?”

Peng Yingyu shook his head. “That emperor is muddle-headed and incompetent. He is precisely our greatest asset. How can we kill him?”

Han Lin’er asked in surprise, “The Tartar emperor is muddle-headed and incompetent and has wrought misery upon the common folk. How is he our greatest asset?”

Footnotes

1. 武林 – wǔlín. Literally the martial forest. Whole body of martial artists and their schools. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

2. 大哥 – dàgē. Elder brother. A respectful form of address among jianghu folk. ↩

3. 谢逊 – Xiè Xùn. Known as the Golden-Maned Lion King. One of the four Dharma Kings of the Ming Order. Zhang Wuji’s sworn father. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

4. 关圣帝君 – Guān Shèng Dì Jūn. The deified general Guan Yu, worshipped across China as a god of war, loyalty, and righteousness. ↩

5. 虎撑 – hǔchēng. A metal ring carried by medicine pedlars, shaken to announce their arrival. Its name derives from the legend that a tiger once had a bone stuck in its throat and a physician removed it using a ring to keep the beast’s mouth open. ↩

6. 彭莹玉 – Péng Yíngyù. Known as Peng the Monk. One of the Five Unbound Adepts of the Ming Order and a master strategist. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

7. 察罕特穆尔 – Cháhǎn Tèmù’ěr. Historical figure and powerful Mongol general. Father of Köke Temur (Wang Baobao) and Zhao Min. He holds the title Prince of Ruyang. ↩

8. 朱元璋 – Zhū Yuánzhāng. Future founder of the Ming dynasty. At this time a leading general under the Red Turban rebellion. ↩

9. 徐达 – Xú Dá. Future founding general of the Ming dynasty and old companion of Zhang Wuji. ↩

10. 常遇春 – Cháng Yùchūn. Future founding general of the Ming dynasty and old companion of Zhang Wuji. ↩

11. 韩山童 – Hán Shāntóng. Leader of the Red Turban rebellion and father of Han Lin’er. Claimed descent from the Song imperial house. ↩