The Heavenly Sword

Part One

1

The trick is to be a needle wrapped in cotton, Sai’er’s father said.

Sai’er made a face at his back.

Her foster brother Binhong deflected a flurry of mindless slashes from her sword, then leaping up and making a half spin in mid-air, he slammed his sword down towards her with his full body weight.

Without thinking, she met the ferocious blow with all the qi she could muster. The shock waves from metal slamming onto metal ripped through her arm, and nearly jerked the sword out of her grip. She lurched to one side from the force of the blow, her hand shaking. He took advantage of the opening to bolt forward and in one swipe sent her half-raised sword flying out of her hand and skipping over the ground. With a smug grin, he then touched the wooden tip of the sword to her throat.

Daughter, you’ll never be able to master the Sword-as-Whip technique if you don’t work at your neigong, Ba harrumphed, the veins in his temples visibly throbbing. Throwing his bamboo smoking pipe onto the stone table, he mumbled in frustration.

Neigong needs diligent practice before you can master your qi flow. Qi must be used wisely—in attack, and in defense… If only you would pay attention to what I tell you.

There you go again, Ba! Sai’er snapped, her temper flaring. You mean I’m thickheaded ‘cos I’m a girl, am I right? She just had to let off some steam.

Constantly losing to Binhong at archery already rankled. In sword dueling, she had a clear edge over him in agility, yet she still couldn’t beat him at that either, and the incremental stress she endured was worse than a punch in the guts. And Ba’s constant fault-finding just added insult to injury.

Then how come Binhong catches on and you don’t?

That’s not true, he still can’t control his qi flow, she asserted. His only advantage over me is his brute strength, you know that! She had no doubt that sometimes her Ba made things up just to irritate her. No way would she believe Binhong understood him any better than she.

You always talk in riddles, Ba! Who on earth can figure you out?

Aiyah! It’s not about physical strength. How many times have I told you? You can take him down if you’re good at your neigong.

But what does it mean to be good at neigong? she murmured to herself in exasperation. Didn’t I use my qi to the best of my power?

A blunt riposte decrying his inscrutable mumble was about to spew from her lips when she caught herself and swallowed it back. Making him lose face in front of his favorite apprentice would not help her case. Worse, it would only add oil to the fire.

Yet for all her rants, Ba was still a Sword-as-Whip expert, as well as a virtuoso herbalist.

Binhong threw Sai’er a sympathetic glance, and kept silent, his eyes roving between the two verbal duelists with a sense of acquired patience.

The Tang home stood among a cluster of straw-thatched cottages bordering the south bank of the main Putai river which fed into the Bohai Sea. It was a stone’s throw from the only wooden bridge that straddled the north and south riverbanks. Birthplace to the Tang young and old, Putai was a sleepy coastal county in Shandong province that was almost relegated to oblivion.

The dried mud cottage had a sizable backyard, with a small stable nestling in the north-west corner, a postern gate in the mid-north, and a kitchen and bamboo shed tucked in the north-east. On the south side, a maple and a pear tree were ensconced on either side of the lounge porch. Two small bed chambers squatted in the east and west wings.

Sai’er and Binhong had been using the yard as their training ground since childhood.

Sai’er’s Ba had turned the bamboo shed into an apothecary where he treated local patients and dispensed medicinal herbs. That was his favorite nook in the whole house.

Since her mother had died two years ago, he would sometimes sit alone motionless, eyes swimming in tears, for hours on end inside his cherished sanctum. Those were moments she felt less neglected by and closest to him. Her longing to mourn with him together sometimes sent a brittle twinge to her heart. But he seemed to always wear his aloofness like impenetrable armor. She knew better than to expect him to change.

Never conveyed to him in so many words, but the way he had cared for Ma during her protracted illness was not lost on Sai’er. For all the austerity that defined him, he’d made an extra effort to soften his straight-laced mien, cheering and feeding Ma in the last stretch of her life journey.

After supper, Sai’er quietly snuck out through the postern gate, still miffed from the bickering with her Ba. She knew her anger had more to do with hitting a dead end in neigong than with Ba’s fumbling for words. Frustration still roiled her mind so much that she almost forgot what she came out for.

Winter Solstice was near, and she wanted to surprise them with a decent festive meal of braised hare meat with chestnuts, which was Ba’s favorite.

Binhong was usually the one who brought home wild game or fish. He had been grumbling about the ever scantier food source these days. A month ago he had come back with only two tiny quails and some wild mushrooms. The recent bitter cold spell might have given him another reason to shun the outdoors.

Secretly, she had always yearned to try her hand in tolai hare hunting in the wooded area about a li from their small hamlet. This night seemed a good time to have some fun out. She badly needed something to pick her up.

In the next instant, she was traipsing along the snow-covered, deserted dirt path that led to the forest. Across the forsaken sorghum field to her right, a mass of black shadows hovered sneakily around a campfire right next to a mound of white tombstones. That was a new cemetery built not long ago on land donated by a well-to-do local peddler, primarily for villagers with little means to bury their loved ones properly.

A plausible explanation could be that those men had come out to lay traps for field mice and were just huddling around the fire to get warm. But that didn’t stop her from wincing at the sight. She had heard a few gruesome stories of earlier great famines when families had had to exchange their dead babies to eat; when grave raiders had dug up corpses for food.

Pictures of looters gorging on roasted human flesh started cropping up in her mind. The mental images made her guts churn. Stomach acid took no time to rush up her throat. She halted in her tracks and hurled out half of what she had downed at supper. Guanyin have mercy, she whimpered, grimacing at the rancid taste of her own vomit. Before she had time to recover from the nausea, a waft of spring flowery scent drifted past her. It was a mix of magnolia and lily fragrance. She swiveled her lantern in every direction to try to get a better look at the surroundings. Not a whiff of anything that should cause alarm. But flowers at this time of year?! Anyhow, she greedily inhaled the pleasant perfume, and it helped to calm her frayed nerves.

Now in the midst of a white clump of frost-covered trees, all bathed in hazy twilight, she strained her ears to listen more intently.

Occasional flurries the previous night had blanketed the forest floor with white downy snow, hushing up Nature’s lyrical hum. All she could hear was her own thrumming heartbeat and the crackling of brittle branches bracing up to the night draught.

For all she knew, that strange olfactory delight could have come from her overactive imagination.

With that thought, she relaxed her tense shoulders and started focusing on her lookout for hare footprints on the fresh layer of snow on the ground. Winter season had started not long ago, so there was a good chance the animals were still out and about foraging for roots and plants, to fill up their food stash for the long winter.

Tracking hare footprints was something Binhong had taught her the previous winter. For once, she had succeeded in wheedling him into secretly taking her along on one of his hunts. A smile spread across her face when she reminisced that fun outing. She had bagged a couple of wild mallards using her archery skills. Even getting scolded by Ba later for sneaking out couldn’t abate the joy and excitement that lingered from that experience.

If only she could have something to show for her lesson!

An unmistakable train of hare paw prints wended its way to the snarly and mossy tangle of oak tree roots straight ahead, some thirty paces from where she stood. Chances were, straggling right underneath that giant tree, was a warren of burrows.

What a piece of luck! She had to muffle an ecstatic scream that almost breached her lips.

Steadily and without a sound, she readied her bow, reached for a shaft in the quiver strapped to her back, and sank on one knee behind a low cluster of withered bushes. Now all she needed to do was wait patiently for the homecoming nocturnal fellows.

The full moon had just peered out from behind the thin veil of cloud. She snuffed out the lantern flame. Shooting in semi-darkness was no challenge to her.

The pallid moonlight swathed her slender shape, throwing a puny silhouette on the white snow. A strange and strong yearning for the moon was something she’d lived with since childhood. It was much like a craving for sweet meats, but more intense.

Her Ma had once made fun of her. When you were an infant, nothing could calm you when you threw a tantrum except the moon. You craved the moon more than my milk!

Just as she was getting attuned to the waxen beam, a beastly growl from behind her shattered the drowsy silence. Her limbs froze in response. Whirling around, she spotted a black shape with two glinting dots less than fifty steps away.

In sickening horror, she let her bow and arrow slide from her fingers. Her airways constricted so she couldn’t even squeeze out a sound. Monkey Sage! I’m done for, she thought, feeling wretched and helpless. She would ease away from the menace, if only her legs would obey her.

As if sensing her distress, the black shape steadily closed in on her.

Her heartbeat slammed on her eardrums. The next thing her ears caught was a sharp whoosh tearing through the air and hitting target. A puncturing noise and a shrill yelp. Another swish. Final gasp. Then silence.

The black wild boar sporting sharp fangs had plumped down with its legs awkwardly splayed. Its blood dyed a patch of snow crimson red. The poor beast looked piteously scrawny for a wild boar.

A tall and dark human shape loomed under a shaft of silvery light.

My surname is Ma. My friends call me Sanbao, he volunteered in a gentle voice.

He happened to be hare-hunting in the area too, having arrived in Putai three days earlier on a family visit.

I don’t know how to thank you, Master Ma, she stammered as her tongue loosened, her pulse settling into a less frenetic rhythm. You—you’ve just saved my life.

In a gesture of goodwill, he revealed more about himself. He came from a Hui family, he said, with roots in Yunnan. His uncle and aunt had migrated here from Yunnan several years ago, when the government moved hordes of the Hui tribe to Shandong to make up for its loss of lives during the peasant rebellion against the Yuan Mongol rulers.

You look so young, he said, quirking an eyebrow, looking truly concerned. Someone should have accompanied you out here. The forest is always full of nasty surprises.

Crouching down to pry the two arrows from the carcass, he cocked his head and shot a quick glance at the bow and arrow that were lying at her feet.

Sai’er blushed, not even knowing why. She’d never blushed while talking with Binhong.

I’m fifteen, old enough to take care of myself. Plus I practice Wudang kung fu.

A hunter and a martial artist! My goodness! He trained his gaze on her with a mix of curiosity and awe. I also practice Wudang kung fu. What’s your name, and who’s your teacher, if you don’t mind me asking?

My name is Tang Sai’er, she blushed a deeper pink, My father is my teacher. His name is Tang Jun. She wasn’t going to admit this was her first attempt at hare hunting.

’Sai’er’! I can see you’re as brave as a lad, as your name suggests, his lips curved into a wide smile, without any tinge of mockery. He looked genuinely impressed.

And your father’s name is familiar to me. He’s one of Master Zhang Sanfeng’s students, if I’m not mistaken, and is a Sword-as-Whip expert. In fact, I’m on my way to the Wudang Mountains—Master Zhang has kindly agreed to be my shifu.

It had never occurred to her that her name could be interpreted that way! The compliment certainly helped to break the ice. Thank you. You’re too kind.

The way he was casually striking up a conversation began to disarm her.

You don’t know how lucky you are, she added, her blush fading. My father told me that the Master rarely accepts apprentices now. You must be someone special. Ba has been toying with the idea of apprenticing me to him.

Well, in fact it was the personal adviser to the Prince of Yan who recommended me to Master Zhang, he said with hesitation. Or perhaps out of habitual caution. I—I work in the Palace of the Beiping Princedom. A shade of embarrassment flitted across his face. She couldn’t figure out why, but to show courtesy, she nodded in response.

After a short pause, he gushed on of his own volition, Actually I’m just the Prince’s personal manservant. I also fight as a soldier in battles against the Mongols. His adviser, Monk Yao, has been kind and always puts in a nice word for me.

At the mention of the Prince, her heart skipped a beat, defying reason. She had vaguely heard of the Imperial title, but all she knew was that he was one of the Peasant Emperor’s sons. Princes. Palace. Princedom. These were such remote and abstract things for simple village folk like her. She had no idea where that strange reaction came from.

But it was plain that she had just met someone from a Palace, someone very close to a powerful Prince. And that someone had saved her life!

Weird reaction or not, this really happened!

Having re-lit the lantern, she couldn’t take her eyes off Sanbao’s face.

The black woolen high hat fastened under his chin made him look even taller. He had an angled jaw and high forehead, with an angry welt carved in the right temple. Bushy brows hung over soft brown eyes that were young, yet darkly morose. His hooked nose and stalwart build were quite typical of the Hui tribe from Yunnan, if what Binhong had told her was true.

Then you must be someone of a high rank! She was now eager for him to tell her more.

I became a war orphan at the age of ten and was sent to the Prince’s palace to serve as his slave. My life practically belongs to him. I’m just his chattel. His voice trailed off as a shadow of deep grief filmed over his eyes. Enjoy your carefree life while you can, girl. And cherish your parents.

She was trying hard to process what he had just said. What does it mean to be a Prince’s slave? Without being fully aware, she was deeply drawn to him by some undefined pain in his eyes. All she felt was that they were two lonely people seeking some company on this freezing and inhospitable winter night.

My mother passed away two years ago, she said with her eyes cast down. My father thinks I’m a disappointment because I can’t do neigong as well as I should.

Very sorry for your loss, Sai’er, he said with an absent look, as if he was in a faraway place. Be thankful you still have your father.

In the next moment he regained his presence and looked into her eyes with renewed vivacity.

"Neigong is not that hard. Wudang neigong is all about using controlled qi to disguise power, to give it a soft appearance. Monk Yao is a former student of Master Zhang’s and some years ago he gave me a book called The Secret of Wudang Neigong, written by the great Master himself. I’ll bring it to you if you meet me by the bridge tomorrow at midday."

Ahh! That sounds wonderful. It’s so generous of you! Heat rose to her face. She heard herself squealing with joy inside.

Holding her in his soulful, obsidian eyes, searing in their intensity, he said, You’re welcome to keep the book as a memento from me. I’ll be leaving town tomorrow afternoon. Very pleased to have met you today, Sai’er.

Then, fumbling in his big felt bag, he fished out two dead hare and shoved them inside her hunting sack. It’s getting late. Let me take you home.

Oh, can you wait for me for just a moment, she said.

Those folks would probably be happy to share some meat. Grabbing the wild boar carcass by its legs, she lugged it across the open field toward the huddling crowd.

2

The book was full of hand-drawn diagrams of the human body.

Of particular interest to Sai’er was the layout of the overarching Ren and Du Meridians and the twelve organ-related meridians. One diagram succinctly showed the course of the Ren Meridian from the chin down the torso center line to the perineum, and the Du Meridian running from the perineum up the back center line right through the top of the head to the nose.

After devouring the book in two days and two nights, Sai’er began to grasp the essence of it all. The crux was to run qi through the Ren and Du Meridians in one continuous loop. Once this was achieved, one could direct qi movement outward and inward at will.

In that duel session with Binhong, she had made the obvious mistake of using aggressive qi while on the defensive. Rather than forcing a hard clash head-on, which was a waste of qi, she should have retracted her qi in order to lessen the impact of the hit, and to give the false impression of a retreat when in fact qi was preserved for new attack moves.

Then, having got Ba’s permission, she shut herself up in her own bed chamber for a whole month, practicing qi circulation nonstop from crack of dawn to sundown, only taking short breaks to prepare lunch and supper. The mystery of neigong was finally unlocked.

What Ba had said made a lot of sense now. The trick is to be a needle wrapped in cotton. His words actually tallied with what Sanbao said. It’s all about using controlled qi to disguise power. Maybe it was really her fault not being a good listener.

She had always been sensitive about how inadequate she was, being a girl, without anyone rubbing this into her face. Ba had named her ‘Sai’er’ at her birth, three years after her Ma had sadly brought to the world two stillborn male fetuses in tandem, two years apart.

Those two characters in her name literally read as ‘rivaling a son’. She had always assumed the name was some kind of stigma to remind her that her birth was a letdown to her father, as she had usurped a son’s rightful place in the family. It had made her feel unwanted and unworthy of love all the while she was growing up.

Now that Sanbao had shined a new light on the name, she began to take a liking to it. ‘Rivaling a son’ could very well mean a daughter was on par with a son! He made her see the nuanced meaning for the first time.

Be that as it might, she still needed to prove her worth to Ba, not least because he always seemed more pleased with Binhong’s progress. She had nothing against Binhong, but she also couldn’t deny there was keen competition between them where kung fu was concerned.

Which was why she was determined to excel in the Sword-as-Whip skill. It was the only way to win Ba’s approval and make him see her worth.

This afternoon, Ba witnessed for the first time how Sai’er effortlessly neutralized Binhong’s hard blows.

By retracting qi, she parried with an effective defense. She then countered with a tight series of blows flourished by projected qi, combined with a couple of flying kicks. This unleashed a sudden blast of energy that forced him to back up a few steps. She gained an opening. Like a released arrow, she shot into the space created and touched her sword tip on his throat before he could raise his sword.

Just as easily, she won in all successive rounds. Confidence began to build up that made her feel she could soon master the Sword-as-Whip skill.

She espied a rare grin on Ba’s face just before he turned to go back to his writing in the apothecary, which also functioned as his study.

Her preening was enough to stoke Binhong’s curiosity and he begged her for the book.

I’ll let you borrow it if you tell me stories about the Prince of Yan, she cajoled with a playful wink.

Fair enough. What do you want to know? Binhong was always easy to deal with.

Five years older than she, he had joined the household when the Tangs fostered him just days after his second birthday. His parents had lived in the same hamlet as the Tangs and scraped a living from peddling malt sugar candies and red bean buns.

On his birthday, both his parents had been falsely accused of selling poisonous snacks, after a visiting Court Censor’s son had died of food poisoning. The Censor had filed a complaint with the Embroidered Uniform Guard who was in his delegation. A few days later the Guard had ordered the execution of the peddler couple without trial.

These Guards were the Emperor’s secret spies and were the highest state powers, second only to the Emperor. Even Ministers bowed to their authority.

That was also the year the Tangs had lost their second male child. Sai’er’s parents had given Binhong the Tang family name for his protection.

At the age of five, he started apprenticeship under Ba in kung fu and dispensing herbal medicine. He had hawkish eyes and could hit a swaying willow branch a hundred steps away. Hence his nickname Hundred Steps Archer. From his hard training, he had developed a lean and wiry physique.

Tell me everything you know about him, she demanded like a spoiled brat, using her fingers to ruffle his tied-up knot until it looked like a bird’s nest.

His face melted into a mellow smile, like someone putting up with his puppy’s mischief. As usual, he was more than willing to humor her.

What I know is mostly from hearsay. His name is Zhu Di and he’s the fourth son of the Peasant Emperor. Among the princes who were granted fiefs, he got the largest one in terms of area and had the largest army. It is rumored that he had his eye on the throne when the first-born prince died prematurely from illness.

He paused to check if she was bored. Her eyes were glimmering with unquenched thirst. She gestured for him to sit, having already settled on one of the stone stools set around the square stone table, placed just outside the bamboo shed under the cover of a reed canopy.

The sky was turning steel gray and the air was heavy with ice crystals, foreboding an imminent snowfall.

Gossips run that Zhu Di is by a Mongolian junior consort of the Emperor. It is for this reason that the Emperor bypassed him in the Crown Prince selection, even though he has glorious war victories to show for.

What is he good at? Is he a warrior, a scholar, a poet or a philosopher? And do people like him as a person? She shifted on her stool, eagerly awaiting an answer. From that day on, my life belongs to him. I’m just his chattel. Sanbao’s remark rang in her ears. She had felt a prick on the back of her neck that night.

I’d say he is a ruthless warrior with a vindictive nature. He doesn’t forget a slight. I’ve heard that people generally fear and loathe him in equal parts.

Ba came out again and sat with them at the stone table.

Hmm, like father like son. The father is cunning and cruel. Pausing, he got up and walked over to the postern door to bolt it close. The door was usually left open during the day as it was the entrance that his patients used.

As soon as he grabbed the throne, he started purging his high-ranked officials and generals who had been loyal to him, killing tens of thousands. Many were innocent—incriminated merely by blood ties.

The seamless rejoinder surprised Sai’er a bit. So he was listening to our talk the whole time! She was just glad she and Binhong hadn’t said anything boorish.

After another short pause, he carried on in a voice tinged with fatigue and helpless anger, Now he fears reprisals so much that he sends his Embroidered Uniform Guards all over to spy on common folks. Ruthless killing of innocents will never end.

Binhong nodded in agreement. The Prince of Yan takes after his father in cruelty. But the Emperor’s choice of his grandson as the Crown Prince must have gutted him. Shandong people can’t be more pleased, because the grandson at least gives hope of a more humane rule.

Affected by the remark, Ba’s brow crinkled into deeper creases.

It’s ill-fate that there’s a history of bad blood between the Imperial family and Shandong people.

Years earlier, in the uprising against the Mongol rulers, Zhu Yuanzhuang had permitted his ally and general Chang Yuchun to massacre Shandong people for daring to put up resistance to his marauding rebel army, almost decimating the population. The atrocities left deep scars on the survivors.

Since then, whether out of spite or not, the Imperial Court left Shandong neglected and impoverished like abandoned children. Natural disasters like droughts and floods could easily leave afflicted counties starved and bereft.

Sai’er had always felt something was very wrong. She had traveled the previous summer with her Ba on horseback to neighboring counties to hand out to peasants herbal medicines such as astragalus roots, ephedra leaves and cassia twigs, which were good for minor ailments and boosting the immune system.

Scene after devastating scene of poverty and misery had unfurled before her eyes. Some rural settlements of those counties looked achingly lifeless. Layers of flaky yellow dust covered what used to be grazing meadows. Scorched fields stretched on for li upon li under the vicious ball of flame suspended in the sky like a scowling fiend. Malnourished children tottered around naked, faces and tiny bodies caked in grime.

On that trip, while riding into the Yidu county, she and her Ba happened upon an execution-by-slicing in the town square. A local told them that the criminal was accused of treason, just for having written a New Year couplet that was deemed disrespectful to the Emperor.

Ba bade Sai’er avert her eyes. With sickened hearts, they scurried away from the bloody scene of horror. For a long time since, she was not able to shake off the victim’s gut-twisting shrieks.

The long-promised peace and plenitude was like one dream too far for Shandong people.

The county officials are just bribe collectors for the Zhu princes, Binhong seethed, his nostrils flaring. Yamens feel entitled to skim off farmers’ harvests, leaving villagers paltry rations of food.

Whoever sits on the throne, Shandong’s prospects don’t look good, Ba added with a languid shrug. We’re supposed to provide corvee labor, taxes and conscripts. But don’t expect to get anything in return.

Isn’t there anything we could do to help our poor villagers?

The things Sai’er just heard sounded familiar enough. Aside from having read history texts in her early teens, she had heard her Ma tell folk tales of gross injustices. It was always the ordinary people who bore the brunt of officials’ abuse of power. No power, no justice, she ranted in sullen silence.

Snow flurries were starting their quiet and ethereal descent. The dreamlike view had Sai’er hypnotized. Snowflakes dancing in mid-air always reminded her of her favorite folklore tale about Lan Caihe, the teenage androgynous sprite among the Eight Immortals. This sprite was a regular performer at birthday banquets held by the Queen Mother of the West. It would happily sprinkle flower petals all around as it sang and twirled to the rhythm of its clappers.

Almost imperceptibly, the luring scent of magnolia and lily wafted in the air to tickle Sai’er’s nose again. The image of the sprite dipping into its basket and spraying white petals from the heavens flitted through her mind.

Ba’s raspy voice pulled her out of her reverie.

When people are driven to despair day after day, spiritual belief is the only thing that gives them hope for a better tomorrow. Hope makes it easier to bear hardships.

His gaze landed on Binhong, then moved to Sai’er.

Children, I have plans for you two in the White Lotus Society. But first you must train up to be expert martial artists. A couple of months ago, I wrote to Master Zhang Sanfeng to ask for a favor—to take you up as apprentices. I suggested for you to learn two specific techniques: Wave Treading qinggong and North Star Qi-Extracting neigong. But the final decision rests with him. Let’s just hope he comes back with a positive response.

The Wudang Mountains! Zhang Sanfeng! In her excitement, Sai’er almost lurched from the stool. She quickly readjusted her posture, hoping no one had noticed. She had longed so much to learn those two famous Wudang techniques. Ba had mentioned in passing this possibility, but nothing concrete had come of it until now! And there was even a chance to see Sanbao again!

But wait, what White Lotus Society? What plans? It was the first time she had ever heard of the Society.

Without waiting for their response, Ba got up and shuffled off to the shed.

As soon as Ba stepped indoors, Sai’er hustled Binhong into her bed chamber. Having closed the lattice door behind her, she pinched him hard on the arm.

What plans does Ba have for us?

Ouch! Not so rough— he winced.

What’s this White Lotus Society? You know something I don’t, isn’t that right?

The way Ba looked at Binhong had roused her suspicion. She wasn’t going to let him wiggle his way out of an answer. Oh, don’t be such a girl! Tell me quick!

"I only know that many years ago Uncle took over the rudderless Society because Zhu Yuanzhang had earlier murdered the Society head when they were jockeying for the throne. When Zhu’s