The Heavenly Sword & the Dragon Sabre – Chapter 35 – Part 2

The two of them shared a single mount down the mountain, taking to the main road and then striking east, so as to avoid any encounter with Wang Baobao.¹ Before long they turned off onto a narrow path. Their spirits lifted somewhat. Even if Wang Baobao sent men after them, they reasoned, the pursuers would not easily find their way onto such a remote trail. If they could hold out until nightfall and reach the deep mountains, a way out might yet present itself.

They had not gone far when the sound of hoofbeats rose behind them. Two horses were bearing down on them at a gallop. Zhao Min’s face drained of colour. Clinging to Zhang Wuji’s² waist, she said, “My brother is alarmingly quick. We are wretched creatures, and cannot escape his clutches after all. Wuji gege,³ let me go back with him. I will try to persuade Father, and we shall plan our next meeting in patience. Heaven is long and earth is durable. We shall not fail each other in the end.”

Zhang Wuji said with a bitter smile, “I doubt your brother would be so willing to let me go.”

The words had barely left his mouth when the two mounts behind them were no more than several hundred feet away.

Zhao Min pulled her horse to the roadside and drew her dagger. Her mind was made up. If there was any room to manoeuvre, she would contrive an escape. But if her brother was determined to kill Zhang Wuji, they would die together. Yet the two riders swept past without pausing. They were two Mongol soldiers, who cast nothing more than a brief glance at the pair before urging their horses on.

Zhao Min was just thinking, Thank Heaven, they are only common soldiers, not here to track us down, when she saw the two Yuan soldiers⁴ slow their mounts, exchange a few words, and suddenly wheel their horses back to the pair’s side. One of them, a burly fellow with a beard that covered his cheeks, bellowed, “You two barbarians! Where did you steal those fine horses?”

Zhao Min heard the greed in his tone and knew at once. He had seen the superb horses her father had given them and coveted them on the spot. The Prince of Ruyang’s⁵ two horses were of the finest breed, and their golden saddles and silver bridles set them apart from the common run. The Mongols loved horses as they loved their own lives. How could a man set eyes on such a pair and not desire them? Zhao Min thought, The two horses are my father’s gift, but if these scoundrels mean to take them by force, there is nothing for it but to let them go. She spoke in fluent Mongolian, “Under which general do you serve? How dare you address me with such insolence?”

The Mongol soldier started. “Who might you be, miss?” he asked. He took in their fine clothing and the exceptional quality of the horses beneath them, and hearing her Mongolian flow without a stumble, he did not dare press the matter.

Zhao Min said, “I am the daughter of General Hua’er Bu Chi.⁶ This is my brother. We were set upon by bandits on the road and bear wounds besides.”

The two Mongol soldiers exchanged a glance and burst out laughing. The bearded one cried, “Once a thing is begun, it must be seen through. We might as well kill the two brats first.” He drew the dao at his waist and spurred his horse forward.

Zhao Min cried, “What do you think you are doing? If I report you to the General, he will have you torn apart by four horses!” The tearing-apart by four horses was the cruelest punishment in the Mongol army: a condemned man’s limbs were bound to four mounts, and at a single order the whips fell and the horses bolted, rending the victim into four pieces in an instant.

The bearded soldier sneered, “Hua’er Bu Chi could not beat the Ming Order’s rebel rabble, so he turned on his own men and cut them down for sport. Yesterday the army mutinied and chopped your precious father into meat paste. And here I stumble on his two whelps. Could anything be more fortunate?” With that, he raised his dao and brought it hacking down towards her head.

Zhao Min seized the reins and swerved her horse aside. The soldier was about to press the attack when his companion called out, “Don’t kill a little girl as lovely as a flower! Let the two of us have some sport first.”

The bearded soldier laughed, “Capital, capital!”

Zhao Min’s mind shifted in an instant. She leapt from the saddle and fled towards the roadside.

The two Mongol soldiers dismounted and gave chase. Zhao Min cried out and stumbled to the ground. The bearded one lunged forward and pressed his hand against her back. She drove her elbow backwards into his chest, striking a vital acupoint.⁷ The man did not so much as grunt. He rolled over and lay still. The second soldier, not having seen his companion struck, followed close behind. Zhao Min did the same to him, and his acupoints were sealed in turn. In ordinary times either strike would have cost her no more effort than a breath. Now, weakened by her injuries, she was left gasping for air, her face covered in cold sweat, her whole body as though drained of strength.

She forced herself to her feet and helped Zhang Wuji dismount. Drawing her dagger, she cried, “You two rebel dogs! Do you still want to keep your lives?”

The two soldiers’ upper bodies were numb and their arms useless. Their legs held some feeling, but ached unbearably. They took her for one who meant to finish them off, yet hearing in her words a thread of mercy, they hastened to say, “Spare us, miss! It was not us who laid hands on General Hua’er Bu Chi.”

Zhao Min said, “Very well. Do as I bid you, and I shall spare your two dogs’ lives.”

The two soldiers would have agreed to anything. “We will! We will!”

Zhao Min pointed to her mount. “You two will ride these horses due east. Within a day and a night you must cover three hundred li.⁸ The faster the better, and without fail.”

The two men stared at each other. They could not have dreamt that her command would be so pleasant a task, and suspected her words were the reverse of their meaning. The bearded soldier said, “Miss, even with heaven’s courage itself, we would not dare take your mount…”

Zhao Min cut him short. “The matter is urgent. Mount at once. If anyone asks on the road, tell them you bought the horses at market. Do not on any account mention the two of us, do you understand?”

The two Mongol soldiers remained half-believing, but Zhao Min pressed them without pause. They reasoned that even if her scheme held some trick, it was better than being run through by a dagger on the spot. They bowed their apologies, edged cautiously forward, and swung into the saddle. A Mongol is born to the saddle. Riding is easier for him than walking, and though their limbs were still stiff, they could guide a horse well enough. Fearing that Zhao Min might change her mind, once their mounts had covered a dozen-odd feet they kicked hard and galloped away.

Zhang Wuji said, “That was well thought out. Your brother’s men will see those fine horses and conclude we have gone east. Which way do we go now?”

Zhao Min said, “Southwest, naturally.”

They mounted the horses the Mongol soldiers had left behind and struck across the open country towards the southwest, following no path.

The way was all jagged stone and thorn. The undergrowth tore at the horses’ legs until they ran with blood, limping and stumbling at every step. In a single shichen⁹ they covered barely twenty-odd li. As dusk was falling, they spotted a thin trail of smoke rising from a hollow in the hills.

Zhang Wuji said gladly, “There is someone living ahead. Let us go and seek lodging for the night.”

As they drew near, they saw the corner of a yellow wall peeping out from behind a screen of great trees. It was a monastery.

Zhao Min helped Zhang Wuji dismount. She turned both horses to face the west, then picked up a thorny branch from the ground and struck the horses on the haunches several times. The two horses gave a long whinny and galloped away. Everywhere she laid false trails, hoping to draw off Wang Baobao’s pursuit.

Supporting one another, they made their way to the monastery gate. Above the entrance a plaque bore three characters: Nation-Protecting Monastery.¹⁰ Zhao Min lifted the door-knocker and struck three blows. After a long while, no answer came. She knocked three more times.

Suddenly a voice from inside the gate spoke, cold and eerie. “Are you human or ghost? Coming to stretch out your corpse?”

With a creak, the gate swung slowly open. A figure appeared behind the wooden door. The twilight was thick, and the figure stood with its back to what little light remained, so that they could not make out the face. Only a shaven head and a monk’s robe were visible.

Zhang Wuji said, “My sister and I were set upon by bandits on the road and lie sorely wounded. We beg shelter in your honourable monastery for a single night. I pray the master show compassion.”

The man gave a snort and said coldly, “Monks do not offer convenience to wayfarers. Be on your way.” He moved to close the gate.

Zhao Min said quickly, “To offer convenience to another is to gain convenience for oneself. It may not be without benefit to you.”

The monk asked, “What benefit?”

Zhao Min reached up to her ear and removed a pair of pearl earrings, pressing them into his hand.

The monk saw that each earring was set with a pearl the size of a child’s fingertip. He studied the pair anew and said, “Very well. To offer convenience to another is to gain convenience for oneself.” He stepped aside.

Zhao Min supported Zhang Wuji inside. The monk led them through the main hall and across a courtyard to a side-room in the eastern wing. “Stay here,” he said.

The room had neither lamp nor fire. It was pitch-dark. Zhao Min felt along the bed: there was nothing but a straw mat.

A booming voice called from outside. “Hao the Fourth, who have you brought in?”

The monk said, “Two guests seeking lodging.” With that he stepped out of the door.

Zhao Min said, “Master, we pray you bestow upon us two bowls of rice and a dish of vegetarian food.”

The monk said, “Monks eat what the ten directions provide. We bestow no charity.” And with that he strode away.

Zhao Min muttered, “That monk is detestable! Wuji gege, you must be very hungry. We shall have to find something for you to eat.”

Before the words had left her mouth, the sound of footsteps rose in the courtyard. Some seven or eight men were approaching. Torchlight flickered. The door was pushed open, and two monks held their candlesticks high, casting their light upon the pair. In that single glance Zhang Wuji counted eight monks, tall and short. Some had heavy brows and brutish eyes, others had flesh that seemed to ripple across their faces. Not a single one among them bore a kindly countenance.

Footnotes

1. 王保保 – Wáng Bǎobǎo. Also known as Köke Temür. Adopted son of the Prince of Ruyang’s household and Zhao Min’s sworn elder brother. A celebrated Mongol general. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

2. 张无忌 – Zhāng Wújì. Son of Zhang Cuishan and Yin Susu. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

3. 哥哥 – gēge. Elder brother. The colloquial form; 兄 is the literary equivalent. Here used by Zhao Min as a form of address to Wang Baobao, her sworn brother. ↩

4. 元兵 – Yuán bīng. Soldiers of the Yuan Dynasty, the Mongol-led regime established by Kublai Khan in 1271. The Yuan Dynasty unified China after conquering the Southern Song. ↩

5. 汝阳王 – Rǔyáng Wáng. The Prince of Ruyang. Zhao Min’s father, a senior Mongol nobleman and commander in the Yuan court. ↩

6. 花儿不赤 – Huā’ér Bùchì. A Mongol general in service of the Yuan court. ↩

7. 穴 – xué. An acupoint. A point on the body’s network of meridians through which qi flows. Striking or pressing an acupoint can numb, paralyse, or kill. ↩

8. 里 – lǐ. A Chinese distance unit, approximately 500 metres or one-third of a mile. ↩

9. 时辰 – shíchén. A two-hour period; the traditional Chinese day is divided into twelve shichen. ↩

10. 护国寺 – Hùguó Sì. Lit. “Nation-Protecting Monastery.” ↩