The Heavenly Sword & the Dragon Sabre – Chapter 38 – Part 3

Yin Liting remembered that his wife Yang Buhui was with child, and his gaze drifted of its own accord towards Yang Xiao and Zhang Wuji. Then another thought followed: "After I am dead, Buhui and the child will have someone to look after them. There is no need for old-womanish fussing, begging and beseeching." He raised his jian, eyes fixed upon the tip, his mind emptied of all distraction. Drawing his chest in and stretching his back straight, settling his shoulders and dropping his elbows, he said, "I invite the zhangmen to begin!" Though he was much older than Zhou Zhiruo, she was now the zhangmen of the Emei Order, and he did not neglect the slightest point of courtesy. Yu Lianzhou, seeing him open with the starting stance of Taiji Swordplay,[^taijijian] knew that his Sixth Shidi had resolved to pit the shimen's supreme art against a formidable foe, and slowly withdrew.

Zhou Zhiruo said, “Make your move!” Yin Liting thought to himself that her strikes came swift as lightning. If she seized the initiative first, it would be desperately hard to claw it back. He stepped forward on his left foot, transferred the jian to his left hand, and unleashed “Three Rings Encompass the Moon.”¹ The very first thrust was a tangle of feint and substance, attacking with left-hand swordwork. The tip of the jian flickered with light, and a faint hissing sound followed each pass. The assembled heroes could not help but cry out in admiration, a roar that shook the sky.

Zhou Zhiruo slipped sideways to evade, and Yin Liting pressed on at once with “Great Dipper Star”² and “Swallow Skimming the Water.”³ The jian carved a great circle through the air, and his right hand thrust out in the sword-charm gesture, seeming likewise to release a faint hissing murmur. Zhou Zhiruo’s slender waist swayed as she evaded each thrust in turn, and said, “Yin the Sixth Xia, I shall concede three moves to you, in repayment of old acquaintances on Mount Wudang.” No sooner had the word “acquaintances” left her lips than the soft whip trembled like a living serpent and shot straight for Yin Liting’s chest. Yin Liting darted to the left, but the whip curved back to him from mid-air.

Yin Liting used “Wind Swaying the Lotus Leaf,”⁴ his jian slicing outward. Whip and jian met with a soft click, and Yin Liting felt the back of his hand grow searing hot. His jian nearly flew from his grip. He was greatly alarmed. “I had supposed her forms alone were strange, and that in neili⁵ she was no match for me. Who would have thought her internal force equally uncanny and unpredictable?” He steeled his concentration and drove the Taiji Swordplay in smooth, unbroken circles, defending his gate with the utmost rigour. The soft whip in Zhou Zhiruo’s hand moved as though it were made of silk floss, as if it had not a trace of weight. Her body drifted now east, now west, advancing and retreating, hovering around Yin Liting without a moment’s rest.

The more Zhang Wuji watched, the more astonished he grew. He thought, “The way she wields that whip is wholly different from the three holy monks Du’e, Dunan, and Dujie.” At first he had supposed the Emei Order possessed some heterodox art of its own. But now, watching her movements, which resembled those of a ghost or demon, utterly unlike anything Miejue Shitai had ever displayed, a dread stirred in him. Fan Yao suddenly said, “She is a ghost, not a human being!” The words struck the very fear already lodged in Zhang Wuji’s heart, and he shuddered. Had it not been for the blazing sunlight upon the square and the multitude standing all about, he would have suspected that Zhou Zhiruo was already dead, and that it was her spectre wielding the whip against Yin Liting. In all his life he had witnessed countless strange martial arts, but Zhou Zhiruo’s body-work and whipwork were like mist borne on a dark wind, like smoke drifting through yellow sand, nothing of the mortal world. For a moment he felt himself lost in a dream, and a cold thought struck him: “Does she truly possess demonic sorcery? Or has some monster taken residence within her body?”

Zhou Zhiruo’s whipwork was bizarre and uncanny, yet Taiji Swordplay was the most refined sword art of recent generations. As Yin Liting’s neili poured forth without cessation, though he could not harm his opponent, so long as he sought only to defend, he left not the slightest opening. The whip in Zhou Zhiruo’s hand was like a thread of gossamer, as if it carried not half an ounce of weight, whilst her body swept now here, now there, in constant, drifting motion around him.

Suddenly a voice cried out, bizarre and absurd in its tone: “Ai-ya! Song Qingshu is about to breathe his last! Madam Zhou, Head of the Order, won’t you attend your husband in his final hours? A widow without honour is a sorry thing!” Everyone turned towards the voice. It was Zhou Dian.⁶ He knew full well that the disciples of the Wudang Order devoted themselves above all to nurturing their qi and composing their spirits, and that even in the heat of combat they maintained the composure of “Mount Tai crumbling before one yet the countenance unchanged; a deer springing up beside one yet the eyes not flickering.” He intended therefore to aid Yin Liting by disturbing Zhou Zhiruo’s concentration. He called out again: “Oi, oi! Emei Order’s zhangmen, Miss Zhou Zhiruo! Your husband is drawing his final breath! He has a few words for you. He says he has twenty-eight illegitimate sons outside, three times seven and four times seven. After he dies, he wants you to raise them properly, so he can close his eyes in peace. Will you agree or not?”

The heroes, hearing this outrageous nonsense, could not help but laugh aloud. Zhou Zhiruo seemed not to have heard a word. Zhou Dian called out again: “Ai-ya, heavens preserve us! Miejue Shitai, how has Your Reverence been of late? It has been an age since I paid my respects, and you look more vigorous than ever! Your shade has possessed our zhangmen, and that whip of hers is a fine performance indeed!”

All at once Zhou Zhiruo’s form flashed and she darted back dozens of feet. Her whip lashed backwards from her right shoulder, and the tip struck suddenly towards Zhou Dian’s face. The Ming Order’s thatched shelters stood more than a hundred feet from the square, yet the soft whip arrived as though from beyond the sky, a soaring dragon closing in an instant. Zhou Dian was still flinging spittle and talking gleefully, never expecting that Zhou Zhiruo would strike at him in the midst of a deadly bout. In his moment of astonishment the whip was already upon him. Zhou Zhiruo did not even turn. From behind, as if she had eyes in the back of her head, the whip’s tip aimed straight for the bridge of his nose.

Zhou Zhiruo’s whip swept wide, and Yin Liting seized the moment to attack. They saw her left hand dart out in a palm-strike, thrusting and jabbing at Yin Liting in quick succession, seven palms in all, each aimed at the vital acupoints of his head and chest. Yin Liting could not loop his jian to slash her arm and was forced to use “Phoenix Nods Its Head,”⁷ ducking low to evade. At that moment a crack sounded from within the Ming Order’s shelters, followed by a clatter of smashing crockery. Yang Xiao happened to be standing near Zhou Dian, and with swift hands and eyes had seized a wooden table and thrust it before him to block the whip. The soft whip struck the table and splinters flew in all directions. Teapots and tea bowls went tumbling, and everyone nearby was spattered with hot tea and shards of porcelain.

Zhou Zhiruo, her strike having missed, took no further notice of Zhou Dian. The soft whip coiled back and fell upon Yin Liting in a fury like wind and rain.

Yu Lianzhou had watched from the sidelines for some while, yet still could not fathom the essential principle of her whipwork. He thought to himself, “Were I to enter the bout now, I could not execute this Taiji Swordplay any better than Sixth Shidi. But if we fight her long enough, she is a woman, and her neili must in the end fall short. Perhaps we might wear her down with endurance and prevail.” He saw that Yin Liting’s swordwork, in its advance and withdrawal, opening and closing, its yin and yang, its stillness and motion, had truly attained the highest subtlety their revered shifu Zhang Sanfeng had taught in years of guidance. His shidi had never once in his life wielded the jian with such mastery. Facing the peril of life and death, he had drawn forth every essence the sword art contained. The Wudang Order’s martial arts grew stronger as the fight wore on. The longer the contest lasted, the greater the hope of avoiding defeat.

Suddenly Zhou Zhiruo’s whip trembled and coiled into circles, large and small, until Yin Liting was wrapped within them entirely. Both Taiji Fist and Taiji Swordplay cultivate the principle of coiling force into circles, yet Zhou Zhiruo’s whip coiled of its own accord, the whip-circles turning in the same direction as Yin Liting’s sword-circles, only many times faster. The force upon his jian was drawn along by her motion, and his body was no longer his own. He staggered through several turns, the blue light of the blade flashing, and the jian flew from his hand. Zhou Zhiruo’s whip lashed back, its tip aimed straight at the crown of Yin Liting’s head.

Yu Lianzhou sprang into the air and seized the tip of the soft whip in his right hand. Zhou Zhiruo’s right leg shot out from beneath her skirt and struck him full in the ribs. Yu Lianzhou had long puzzled over the crux of Zhou Zhiruo’s uncanny whipwork, but the moment he saw her shake the whip into circles and wrench Yin Liting’s jian from his grip, his understanding was crystal clear: “Her gongfu is nothing so formidable after all. These whip-circle techniques are a poor shadow of our own Taiji Fist.” Gripping the whip’s tip, he accepted her kick to his flank and thrust out his left hand in precisely “Tiger Claw Extirpating the Lineage Hand,”⁸ driving straight for Zhou Zhiruo’s lower abdomen. Zhou Zhiruo had no means to block it. A thought flashed through her mind like lightning: “Today I die at the hands of Yu the Second Xia.” Her right hand released the whip’s handle, and her five fingers stabbed down towards the crown of Yu Lianzhou’s head, bent upon dragging him to destruction together. Yu Lianzhou turned his head to evade, but the acupoints in his ribs, sealed by her kick, held his neck rigid. He could not turn his head. Yet his left hand still drove downward with all its force. This strike would take her life as well.

In that hair’s breadth between life and death, a figure darted in from the side. A right hand deflected Yu Lianzhou’s “Tiger Claw Extirpating the Lineage Hand,” and a left hand parried Zhou Zhiruo’s five fingers stabbing towards Yu Lianzhou’s crown. It was Zhang Wuji, reaching in to save them both. Though Zhou Zhiruo knew that Zhang Wuji had rescued her, she still drove both palms forward with combined force, striking hard at his chest. Had Zhang Wuji dodged, the twin palms’ force would have struck Yu Lianzhou full in the face. He had no choice but to thrust out his left palm to intercept.

The three palms met. Zhang Wuji felt to his horror that Zhou Zhiruo’s twin palms held not the faintest trace of force. His heart lurched. “Ai-ya, no! She has fought Sixth Uncle for two hundred-odd moves and is utterly spent. If I push my force forward now, I shall kill her on the spot!” In his alarm he hastily drew back his strength.

When he had first struck out with his left palm, knowing that Zhou Zhiruo’s gongfu was now not far from his own and that she was a formidable adversary, he had dared not neglect her in the slightest. Moreover, one palm against two had required his full, unreserved power. The moment his force began to extend outward he had sensed her exhaustion and dragged it back by main strength. He knew full well this violated a cardinal prohibition of the martial arts, equivalent to striking himself with ten parts of palm-force. Moreover, to reverse so suddenly in a sliver of a moment made the recoil yet more violent. But his neili was subject to his will, and this powerful rebound, at worst, would leave him momentarily winded. It could be no grave matter. He had not expected that the instant his palm-force returned, the opposing force would surge in like a breached dyke, a flood unstoppable.

Zhang Wuji was aghast. He knew he had fallen into a trap. His chest rang with a thud as Zhou Zhiruo’s twin palms struck him full. It was his own palm-force compounded with Zhou Zhiruo’s, the combined assault of two peerless masters. His protective Nine Yang Divine Skill,⁹ for all its profundity, could not withstand it. Worse, Zhou Zhiruo’s palm-force had entered through the gap at the very instant his old force was spent and his new force not yet born. This art was the orthodox legacy of the Emei Order. Long ago, Miejue Shitai had struck him so that he vomited blood and fell. But then he had been wholly ignorant of defence. This time it was his own mercy that had been turned against him. His vision went dark, and a mouthful of bright blood sprayed forth.

Zhou Zhiruo, her surprise attack successful, drove her left hand forward. Her five fingers clawed towards his chest. Zhang Wuji, though grievously wounded, did not lose his composure. Seeing the claw arrive, knowing it would rip open his chest, he forced himself backward by a fraction. A rip, and Zhou Zhiruo’s five fingers had torn through the fabric of his robe, laying bare the skin of his chest.

Zhou Zhiruo’s right hand followed to finish the assault. Yu Lianzhou had been kicked to the ground, his acupoints sealed, unable to move. Yin Liting lunged forward to rescue him, but was too late. Zhang Wuji seemed beyond escape. But in a glance Zhou Zhiruo saw upon his chest a scar, the very wound she had once given him with the Heavenly Jian¹⁰ atop Bright Peak. Her five fingers hung less than half a foot from his breast. A tenderness stirred within her, her eyes reddened, and she could not bring herself to strike.

In her moment of hesitation, Wei Yixiao, Yin Liting, Yang Xiao and Fan Yao all dashed in together. Wei Yixiao threw himself before Zhang Wuji. Yang Xiao and Fan Yao attacked Zhou Zhiruo from left and right, whilst Yin Liting seized Zhang Wuji and fled.

The square erupted into chaos. The Emei disciples and the Shaolin monks shouted and surged forward, weapons drawn. Yang Xiao and Fan Yao exchanged a few moves with Zhou Zhiruo, then disengaged. Wei Yixiao helped Yu Lianzhou to his feet, and all returned to the thatched shelters. Seeing the bout concluded, the Emei and Shaolin factions withdrew as well.

Zhao Min had also rushed forward to give aid, but her qinggong¹¹ was not as swift as Wei Yixiao and Yang Xiao. She met them on the way and saw blood upon Zhang Wuji’s lips. Her face went white as paper. Zhang Wuji forced a smile. “It is nothing. A little qi-circulation and I shall be well.” They supported him to a seat within the shelter. Zhang Wuji slowly circulated the Nine Yang Divine Skill to tend his wound.

Zhou Zhiruo called out, “Which hero will honour me with a bout?” Fan Yao tightened his belt and strode out. Zhang Wuji said, “Fan, my Right Envoy, you must not fight. We… we concede…” A spasm of diverted qi seized him, and two more mouthfuls of blood gushed forth. Fan Yao dared not disobey his Order Leader’s command, and knew that to insist upon fighting would only worsen Zhang Wuji’s injury. Moreover, to throw away his life in the attempt, however devoted, would not aid the Order.

Zhou Zhiruo stood at the centre of the square and repeated her challenge twice more.

The matter of Zhang Wuji’s force rebounding upon himself was known only to him and Zhou Zhiruo. The rest supposed merely that Zhou Zhiruo’s palm-force was uncanny and that Zhang Wuji could not match it. But Zhou Zhiruo’s decision to spare him, her fingers poised yet not striking, that all had seen. A young woman, and she had defeated in succession Yin Liting, Yu Lianzhou, and Zhang Wuji, three of the finest martial artists of the age. Her gongfu was beyond anything they could conceive. Among the heroes were many who bore extraordinary skills, but each knew in his heart that he could not equal Yu Lianzhou, Yin Liting, or Zhang Wuji. To step forward would be to court death.

Zhou Zhiruo stood alone in the square. The mountain wind tugged at her robe and skirt, as though it might blow down her delicate frame. Yet among the thousands of heroes gathered from every mountain and valley, not one dared advance to challenge her.

Footnotes

1. 三环套月 – Sān Huán Tào Yuè. Lit. Three Rings Encompass the Moon. A Wudang sword technique opening with feints of circular motion. ↩

2. 大魁星 – Dà Kuí Xīng. Lit. Great Dipper Star. A sword technique named after the star of literature and examinations. ↩

3. 燕子抄水 – Yànzi Chāo Shuǐ. Lit. Swallow Skimming the Water. A sword technique mimicking a swallow’s low, dipping flight. ↩

4. 风摆荷叶 – Fēng Bǎi Héyè. Lit. Wind Swaying the Lotus Leaf. A defensive sword technique. ↩

5. 内力 – nèilì. Internal power. The kinetic manifestation of qi cultivated through neigong. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

6. 周颠 – Zhōu Diān. The Lunatic. One of the Five Unbound Adepts of the Ming Order, known for his irreverent humour. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

7. 凤点头 – Fèng Diǎn Tóu. Lit. Phoenix Nods Its Head. A ducking evasion technique. ↩

8. 虎爪绝户手 – Hǔ Zhuǎ Jué Hù Shǒu. Lit. Tiger Claw Extirpating the Lineage Hand. A devastating Wudang grappling technique aimed at the lower abdomen. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

9. 九阳神功 – Jiǔyáng Shéngōng. The Nine Yang Divine Skill. A legendary internal cultivation art emphasising pure yang energy. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

10. 倚天剑 – Yǐtiān Jiàn. The Heavenly Jian. One of two legendary weapons forged from the Heavy Iron Sword. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

11. 轻功 – qīnggōng. Lightness skill. Martial arts of agility and aerial movement. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩