The Heavenly Sword & the Dragon Sabre Chapter 7 Part 4

Chapter 7: Who sends the ice vessel to the immortal land? (4)

The next morning, Zhang Cuishan set to work digging a deep pit in the outer chamber of the cave. Without iron spade or mattock, he could only gather branches of a suitable shape to serve as wooden rakes—labour doubled for half the result. Fortunately his neili was deep and abundant. After seven days of gruelling toil, the pit reached a depth of some three zhang. Xie Xun’s behaviour grew more alarming by the day; he could often be seen clutching the Dragon Slaying Saber, slashing and sweeping the air in wild abandon. Zhang Cuishan redoubled his efforts, planning to line the pit’s bottom with sharpened stakes once it reached five zhang. The pit was narrow at the base and wide at the mouth. If Xie Xun left Yin Susu in peace, all would be well, but the moment he set foot inside the bear cave, he would plunge in without fail. Zhang Cuishan also heaped large stones around the rim, ready to hurl down upon him once he fell.

One afternoon, Xie Xun paced back and forth a few zhang from the entrance to the bear cave, refusing to leave. Zhang Cuishan dared not resume digging for fear the sound would rouse suspicion, yet neither did he dare go out to hunt. He could only watch from the cave mouth and wait. Xie Xun cursed without ceasing. He began with heaven itself, then turned his wrath upon the Buddha of the West, the Guanyin of the Eastern Sea, the Jade Emperor above, and King Yama below. From there he worked backward through the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors, through Yao, Shun, Yu, and Tang, through the First Emperor of Qin and the Taizong of Tang, from the literary sages Confucius and Mencius to the warrior saints Guan Yu and Yue Fei—not one great sage or hero escaped his tongue. Xie Xun was a man of considerable learning, and his tirade, for all its fury, proved oddly compelling to hear.

Then, without warning, he turned to the figures of the wulin.¹ Beginning with Hua Tuo’s² Five Animal Frolics, he railed against the Shaolin School’s Patriarch Bodhidharma³ and the great Yue Fei’s⁴ divine boxing. Not one was spared his scorn. Yet his denunciations were no mere bluster; on the weaknesses of each school and style, his insights cut to the quick with genuine acuity. From Tang to Song he raged onward, and from the late Southern Song he came at last to the Eastern Heretic, the Western Venom, the Southern Emperor, the Northern Beggar, and the Central Divine.⁵ He cursed Guo Jing⁶ and Huang Rong,⁷ Yang Guo⁸ and the Lady of the Condor.⁹ Then, with sudden venom, he fell upon Zhang Sanfeng,¹⁰ the founding patriarch of the Wudang School.

When Xie Xun vilified others, Zhang Cuishan could endure it. But now the man was heaping abuse upon Zhang Sanfeng, and Zhang Cuishan’s blood rose. He was on the verge of retorting when Xie Xun suddenly bellowed, “Zhang Sanfeng is worthless scum! His disciple Zhang Cuishan is even worse! His wife blinded me—let me wring her neck first and settle accounts after!” He launched himself into the air, swept past Zhang Cuishan, and plunged into the bear cave.

Zhang Cuishan rushed in after him. He heard a sharp crack and knew Xie Xun had fallen into the pit. But the sharpened stakes had not yet been planted at the bottom; though the fall caught him off guard, it did him no injury. Zhang Cuishan seized the wooden rake he had been using to dig and brought it crashing down upon Xie Xun’s head as the man sprang upward from the pit. Xie Xun heard the rush of air, flipped his left hand, and caught the branch. He wrenched it toward himself with terrifying force. Zhang Cuishan could not hold on; the makeshift tool was ripped from his grasp, and the violence of the pull split the web between his thumb and forefinger. His palm was scraped raw and bloody by the rough bark. The momentum of his own wrench carried Xie Xun back down into the pit.

All this while, Yin Susu’s labour pains had been upon her for half the day. Earlier, when she saw Xie Xun lingering at the cave mouth, she had not dared tell her husband, fearing that if Xie Xun overheard, he would know they had one fewer thing to hold him in check and would strike all the sooner. Now, with peril bearing down upon them, she could no longer hide it. Fighting through agony that twisted her like a blade, she snatched the sword from beside her pillow and flung it to Zhang Cuishan.

Zhang Cuishan caught the hilt and thought: His martial arts far exceed mine. When he leaps up again, even if I thrust or slash at him, he will simply wrest the blade away. In his desperation, a sudden insight struck: He is blind. The only reason he can seize my weapon is by listening for the sound it makes cutting the air—that is how he reads my every move. He saw Xie Xun coiling to leap again, gauged the line of his ascent, and levelled the sword point at Xie Xun’s forehead. Then he held the blade utterly still.

Xie Xun surged upward with tremendous force, driving his own head straight toward the motionless point. A still sword makes no sound. No matter how formidable his skills, he could not have known. The blade bit into his forehead with a wet hiss and Xie Xun roared. The sword sank half an inch before his reflexes saved him—the instant the point touched bone, he snapped his head back and threw all his weight downward in the Thousand-jin Drop,¹¹ plummeting back into the pit. Had he been a heartbeat slower, the blade would have pierced his skull and killed him where he stood. Even so, he had taken a grievous wound. Blood sheeted down his face, and the sword, still embedded in his forehead, quivered with each pulse.

Xie Xun wrenched the sword from his flesh, tore a strip from his robe to bind the wound, and felt a sickening wave of vertigo wash through him. He knew the injury was severe. But his madness was upon him in full. He drew the Dragon Slaying Saber from his belt and whirled it in a blinding arc above his head, guarding his crown, then launched himself upward for the third time. Zhang Cuishan snatched up great stones and hurled them one after another, but every one was deflected by the saber. The blade danced in blossoms of cold light, silver and terrible. Xie Xun cleared the pit, and step by step he pressed forward. Zhang Cuishan retreated before him, a bitter ache in his heart. Today Susu and I die together, he thought, and I shall never see our child.

Xie Xun moved to cut off any escape, knowing that if Zhang Cuishan and Yin Susu slipped past him and out of the cave, he would never catch them in the open. Saber in his right hand, sword in his left, his strokes swept wide and fierce, sealing every inch of space within a two-zhang radius. There was no way through.

Then, from the inner chamber, a thin, piercing cry split the air—the wail of a newborn child.

Xie Xun froze. He lowered his weapons and turned his head, listening to the infant’s cries.

Zhang Cuishan and Yin Susu knew that death was upon them, yet neither spared Xie Xun another glance. Their eyes were fixed upon the newborn—a boy, his tiny limbs squirming, his voice raised in a lusty howl. They knew that a single stroke of the saber would end all three of their lives in one breath. They did not speak. They did not look away from the child. A silent, overwhelming gratitude welled up in them both—that heaven had at least allowed them to behold their son before the end. In that moment, they were content. To save the infant’s life would have been their dearest wish, but they knew it was impossible, and so they did not permit themselves even the thought.

The baby went on crying. Then, all at once, something shifted behind Xie Xun’s ravaged face. His madness broke like a wave upon stone. His mind cleared, and memory flooded in—his own family slaughtered, his son not yet three years old, bright-eyed and laughing, dashed to a shapeless ruin of blood and flesh by his enemy’s hand. Those thin, mewling cries unlocked a torrent of remembrance: the tenderness between husband and wife, a father’s fierce devotion to his child, the savagery of his enemy, the helpless infant broken upon the ground, and himself—cunning exhausted, strength spent—still unable to take his revenge, the saber’s secret still beyond his reach… He stood as though carved from stone, and across his face passed expressions in rapid, bewildering succession: a gentle smile, then teeth bared in murderous fury, then something lost and broken.

In the heartbeat before the baby’s cry, all three of them had stood at the very precipice of death. From the instant that first wail pierced the air, every thought of life and death fell away, and all three turned their minds wholly to the child.

Xie Xun spoke suddenly. “Is it a boy or a girl?” Zhang Cuishan said, “A boy.” Xie Xun said, “Good. Has the cord been cut?” Zhang Cuishan said, “The cord needs cutting? Ah—yes, yes, of course. I forgot entirely.”

Xie Xun reversed the sword and offered the hilt. Zhang Cuishan took it and severed the umbilical cord. Only then did it occur to him that Xie Xun had come within arm’s reach—and had not struck. He stole a glance over his shoulder. Xie Xun’s face was suffused with tender concern, and he looked for all the world as though he wished to help.

Yin Susu’s voice came faintly. “Let me hold him.” Zhang Cuishan lifted the infant and placed him in her arms. Xie Xun said, “Have you heated water to bathe him?” Zhang Cuishan laughed despite himself. “I am a fool—I have prepared nothing at all. What a useless father I make.” He made to rush out and heat water, but after a single step he saw Xie Xun’s iron-tower frame looming before the newborn, and his heart clenched with sudden dread. Xie Xun, however, said, “Stay with your wife and child. I shall heat the water.” He tucked the Dragon Slaying Saber into his belt and strode from the cave, leaping lightly over the pit as he passed.

After a while, Xie Xun returned bearing a clay basin of steaming water. Zhang Cuishan bathed the infant. Xie Xun listened to the baby’s lusty cries and asked, “Does the child favour his mother or his father?” Zhang Cuishan smiled. “More his mother, I think. A slim face, not plump at all.” Xie Xun sighed and said softly, “I pray he lives a long life, blessed with good fortune, and is spared the worst of the world’s suffering.” Yin Susu said, “Senior Xie, do you think his features are ill-favoured?” Xie Xun said, “Not at all. But if he takes after you, he will be far too handsome. I fear that may mean a thinner share of fortune, and when he one day enters the world, he may suffer more than his share of hardship.”

Zhang Cuishan laughed. “You look too far ahead, Senior. The four of us are stranded on an island at the edge of the world. This child will grow old and die here. What ‘entering the world’ is there to speak of?” Yin Susu cut in at once, her voice urgent. “No! We may choose never to return, but must this child spend his whole life alone on this island? In a few decades, when the three of us are dead, who will keep him company? When he is grown, how will he take a wife and carry on the family line?” From childhood she had been steeped in her father’s temperament and raised amid the Heavenly Eagle Cult, where cruelty and ruthlessness were commonplace. Such things had seemed natural to her. But since her marriage to Zhang Cuishan, she had turned step by step toward goodness. Now, on this day, having become a mother, a fierce and boundless love surged through her, and she gave herself over entirely to thinking of her child’s future.

Zhang Cuishan looked at her with quiet sorrow. He stroked her hair and thought: This island lies ten thousand li from the Central Plains. How could we ever return? But he could not bear to wound his wife’s heart, and so he left the words unspoken.

Xie Xun said abruptly, “Madam Zhang speaks true. Our own lives are finished, but how can we condemn this child to die on a deserted island, never knowing a single joy of the world beyond? Madam Zhang, the three of us must exhaust every last shred of wit and strength to see the child safely back to the Central Plains.”

Yin Susu was overcome with joy. She struggled to her feet, trembling. Zhang Cuishan caught her arm in alarm. “Susu, what are you doing? Lie down at once!” Yin Susu said, “No, Fifth Brother. Let us kowtow to Senior Xie together, to thank him for this immeasurable kindness.”

Xie Xun waved a hand. “There is no need for that. Has the child been given a name?” Zhang Cuishan said, “Not yet. You are a man of deep learning, Senior. Would you do us the honour of choosing one?” Xie Xun considered. “Hm. It must be a good name. Let me think carefully.”

A thought flashed through Yin Susu’s mind: How fortunate that this strange man has taken such a liking to the child. If he comes to regard the boy as his own, the child will be safe on this island—even if the madness seizes him again, he would not harm the baby outright. She said, “Senior Xie, I have a favour to ask on behalf of the child. I beg you not to refuse.” Xie Xun asked, “What is it?”

Yin Susu said, “Take this child as your godson. When he is grown, he shall honour and care for you as though you were his true father. With your protection, this child will never come to harm in anyone’s hands. Fifth Brother, what do you say?” Zhang Cuishan understood his wife’s deeper purpose at once. “A splendid idea!” he said. “Senior Xie, we beg you—do not think us presumptuous. Please grant us this wish.”

Xie Xun said, his voice laden with grief, “My own son was seized and dashed to death—a shapeless mass of blood and flesh. Did you see it?” Zhang Cuishan and Yin Susu exchanged a glance. There was a tremor of madness in his words, but the sheer horror of what he had endured wrung their hearts with pity. Xie Xun went on: “If my boy had lived, I would have taught him everything I know. Heh. He might not have fallen so far short of your Seven Heroes of Wudang.” These words mingled desolation with a fierce, defiant pride, and beneath the self-assurance lay a loneliness and grief beyond measure. Zhang Cuishan and Yin Susu could not help but feel a stab of remorse: If only we had not blinded him on the iceberg. The four of us could have lived here together in peace, with nothing to fear and nothing to grieve.

Footnotes

1. 武林 – wǔlín. Literally martial forest. The wider martial arts community. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

2. 华佗 – Huà Tuó. Legendary physician of the late Eastern Han Dynasty who created the Five Animal Frolics (五禽戏), one of the earliest known systems of exercise for health. See Wikipedia. ↩

3. 达摩 – Dámó. Bodhidharma, the Indian monk traditionally credited with founding Chan Buddhism and bringing martial arts to Shaolin Monastery. See Wikipedia. ↩

4. 岳飞 – Yuè Fēi. Song Dynasty general and national hero, also credited with creating the Xingyi style of martial arts. See Wikipedia. ↩

5. The Five Greats (五绝 – Wǔjué) of the late Southern Song: Huang Yaoshi the Eastern Heretic, Ouyang Feng the Western Venom, Duan Zhixing the Southern Emperor, Hong Qigong the Northern Beggar, and Wang Chongyang the Central Divine. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

6. 郭靖 – Guō Jìng. His name meaning “Serenity.” Hero of The Legend of the Condor Heroes. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

7. 黄蓉 – Huáng Róng. Her name meaning “Lotus.” Heroine of The Legend of the Condor Heroes and wife of Guo Jing. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

8. 杨过 – Yáng Guò. His name meaning “Yang Transgression” or “Surpassing.” Hero of The Return of the Condor Heroes. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

9. 小龙女 – Xiǎo Lóngnǚ. Literally Little Dragon Maiden. Heroine of The Return of the Condor Heroes and wife of Yang Guo. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

10. 张三丰 – Zhāng Sānfēng. His name meaning “Three Peaks” or “Three Abundances.” Legendary founder of the Wudang School. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

11. 千斤坠 – qiānjīn zhuì. Literally thousand-jin drop. A technique that rapidly increases the practitioner’s effective weight, allowing an abrupt downward descent to escape danger or break free of holds. ↩