The Ming Storm

by Yan LeiSheng

  Chapter 15

  What had happened to the master?

  Shao Jun’s heart felt like it would explode, like that of the horse beneath her that was breathing heavily and trembling with exhaustion. Despite being mad with worry, the young woman knew that she needed to stay calm, keep a clear head, and make the right decision. She stopped her mount and looked around.

  Wang Yangming always had his troops camp a good distance from villages on their route to avoid troubling the inhabitants, so he was unlikely to be in Huanglong. On the other hand, he could be at the Buddhist temple in Lingyan, nestled in the valley to the west of the town. It would take Shao Jun some time to get there given the state of her horse, and she wouldn’t be able to make it back to the camp before nightfall. The entire day would be wasted if she went the wrong way.

  Wang Yangming had visited this temple around twelve years before, just after he was named inspector general of Nan’an, Ganzhou, Tingzhou, and Zhangzhou. He was immediately approached by a priest who told him an incredible story: at the end of his life, a high-ranking monk had predicted that his reincarnation would erect a pagoda there in his memory half a century later. When he heard this tale the monk had been dead for exactly fifty years, and he had looked exactly like Wang Yangming! Intrigued, the latter asked them to open the room in which the author of this singular prophecy had died, and found a corpse who could have been his twin sitting in a Buddha pose. Impressed, he acquiesced to the old monk’s will and had a pagoda built on the site, then composed this poem:

  A half-century later, I open a door that another self had closed.

  The mind remembers what the body forgets; Buddha guides us in all things.

  When Shao Jun heard this unusual story, she had asked her master if he really thought he was the reincarnation of the deceased monk, and he had answered that some mysteries would always be beyond conventional understanding. Of course, the priest had set the scene hoping to extract money from him for the construction of the pagoda, and if in doubt it was always better to avoid angering the dead. And to prevent any future problems, he had decided never to return to the temple… The young woman concluded that there would be little chance of finding him there. So where to look?

  Exhausted and foaming at the mouth, her mount whinnied plaintively, as if complaining about being so mistreated by its rider. She realized she hadn’t allowed her mount to drink for some time, so she dismounted and led the horse to the riverbank. There, a young man called to her, standing next to a well with a bucket of water on each arm.

  “That water isn’t clean enough for such a wonderful horse,” he called out, “let it drink here!”

  “Thank you, big brother!” Shao Jun responded, clasping her hands in front of her chest.

  The man had a distinguished air despite the deplorable state of his tunic. He generously offered her horse one of his buckets of water, which quickly plunged its head in and drank deeply.

  “It’ll make you wet, big brother,” the young woman said. “You don’t have to…”

  “It’s no problem! But tell me, steward, did you arrive with Mr Wang Yangming’s garrison?”

  The mention of her mentor’s name took her by surprise.

  “Why?” she wondered.

  “You look like part of Mr Wang Yangming’s entourage! Once, I was bold enough to attend one of his lessons in the town, but I wasn’t educated enough to understand everything… Do you know if he plans to give another lecture? I’d love to listen to him again, even if I don’t understand all of it!”

  Shao Jun was moved to see the young villager speak of education and culture with such fervor and burning passion in his eyes.

  “Yes,” she answered, “I’m looking for him. I’ll ask when I find him.”

  “Oh, I just saw him! He was on a small boat; he must have been travelling to see the red-leaved trees downstream.”

  “You saw him?”

  “Yes, around two lis further down the river, near Emerald Dragon pass. At this time of year, the maples look as if they’re on fire, it’s very beautiful…”

  There was no time to lose: the young woman leapt onto her horse and spurred it to a gallop in the direction indicated by the villager. He stood there, indignant at her rudeness as she sped off.

  Emerald Dragon pass was only two lis away, a distance her horse covered in less time that it took to say the name. As she left Huanglong the earthen track was bordered by luxuriant trees whose leaves were reflected in the river as far as the eye could see, like a long, undulating dragon. While it was emerald in spring and summer, at the turn of the season it took on the fiery hues of fall. Shao Jun saw a small boat with a black sail, three meters long at most, floating gently near the left bank.

  She didn’t dare act immediately. If Master Yangming and Zhang Yong really were there, they weren’t visibly fighting. The young woman led her horse to the edge of the water to better observe the scene. Four men immediately surged out of the water, violently breaking the smooth surface. They rushed towards the boat, then one of them was launched towards the bank as if struck a sudden blow. Splash! He hit the water like a sack of bricks and floated to the surface a few seconds later… before suddenly stirring and swimming back towards the boat at speed. The awning on the boat went flying, revealing its occupants: a small, stocky figure, and a larger one… Zhang Yong and Wang Yangming! The first was in the bow and the other in the stern, cornered by three disarmed attackers he kept comfortably at bay with his sword.

  What was happening? Everything Shao Jun had just seen seemed inconceivable. Despairing, she decided to join the fight. She spurred her horse and pulled back on the reins. The beast neighed, reared, and bounded towards the river, where it quickly sank six feet into the water. Drawing level with the man with the superhuman abilities who had crashed near her a few seconds earlier, Shao Jun leapt from the saddle and threw herself on him, stretching her rope around his neck to strangle him. Despite this he was unperturbed and continued to swim towards the boat as if he hadn’t even noticed. When he jumped aboard just behind Wang Yangming, the young woman was still on his back, hands clenched around her sinew and silk rope, feet pressed against her victim’s back for leverage, but nothing happened – by this point any normal man would have a broken neck or his throat ripped open. The mentor was facing a similar problem: despite hitting the mark every time, none of his blows seemed to affect his opponents.

  Shao Jun’s left boot had a hidden blade which she had never used, given to her by the mentor some time before. It was difficult to wield and the idea itself seemed too underhanded for her liking, but given the situation, its use seemed completely appropriate. She rotated her ankle sharply and ejected the blade with a cling!, thrusting it into the man’s neck with all her strength. She’d aimed for the dazhui, an acupuncture point located in the hollow of the seventh cervical, which usually caused loss of consciousness when struck. Unfortunately, the steel barely penetrated halfway into his rock-hard skin, and while blood ran from the wound, the superhuman brute continued to move towards the mentor.

  Wang Yangming was already occupied by the three combatants facing him, and the strangeness of the situation disturbed him. The way of the heart allowed him to detect a mosquito at ten meters or a leaf swirling far behind him in the wind, so why hadn’t he been able to detect the presence of four men just meters away under the water? How had they held their breath for so long? No kung-fu technique had such power. The phenomenon was beyond his comprehension despite his vast knowledge, as was the complete indifference the fighters showed as they allowed themselves to be stabbed and slashed all over, seemingly unaffected by their wounds. If they had used the Golden mask and Iron shirt techniques, he would have been able to respond appropriately, but their supernatural resistance seemed part of them, and not the result of any training or skill. His sword was useless against such adversaries.

  Using one of his most destructive techniques, he
plunged his sword into the shangzong point – or sea of breath, in the center of the chest – of one of the combatants and sent subtle vibrations through it. In doing so, he blocked the internal energies as the tip oscillated to maximize damage to the vital organs; if the victim survived, he should at least be incapable of moving or breathing until he received treatment. Perfected over long years of practice, Wang Yangming’s swordsmanship had allowed him to achieve a style that was both strong and flexible, as fast as lightning and more terrible than thunder. Unfortunately, the devastating technique had no effect on his opponent, and worse, the blade remained trapped in his body!

  Suddenly deprived of his weapon and dumbfounded by the terrifying phenomenon he had just witnessed, the mentor’s attention briefly lapsed, and he took a powerful blow to the chest. The breath was knocked from his lungs. He had no time to recover from the shock as thump!, the man Shao Jun was vainly trying to control behind him gave him a powerful slap on the back. It sent him flying forward straight towards a dark shadow slipping between the three giants to brutally assault him with a punch to the chest. Wang Yangming had inherited the miraculous powers of Mount Kailash kung-fu thanks to his way of the heart, including the ability to withstand almost any hit struck by normal martial artists. But the attacker was Zhang Yong, and Zhang Yong was no average martial artist.

  The Tiger had needed a few seconds after losing the inner energy battle to gather his strength, regain his breath, and reevaluate the situation, only possible thanks to the intervention of his four yuxiao – his tireless soldiers. He had known that the meeting would end in a fight if, as his growing suspicions suggested, his old friend was revealed to be the mentor of the Central Plain Brotherhood. He had left behind his palanquin carriers and even his loyal Qiu Ju to avoid raising suspicion, accompanied only by his four yuxiao which were undetectable even to the greatest masters. And for good reason: they didn’t need to breathe. And though they were still imperfect and used only around a hundredth of their potential, they were still more powerful than any ordinary human.

  He had been annoyed to recognize Shao Jun on the riverbank. After the failed assassination attempt in Tianzhou, he had sent Ju and Luo Xiang to lay a trap while he interrogated her master. The young woman’s presence here suggested that the two other Tigers were dead. “Damned imperial whore!” he growled into his beard. He needed to act quickly and decisively if he were to avoid risking his plans any further. While Wang Yangming was occupied with the yuxiao, Zhang Yong noticed that he seemed to pay special attention to protecting his chest. From this he correctly deduced that Luo Xiang had successfully wounded him in Tianzhou, despite the failure of the mission. It was a weakness that could be exploited.

  When the captain of the guard had realized the mentor of the Brotherhood still lived, he’d initially had five main suspects, including his two old friends with the jade pendants. He had only focused on them after examining Chen Xijian’s corpse, particularly the small splash of incriminating blood on his clothing. After that, all he had needed to do was isolate them by using his political power to assign them military missions, then visit them when they were at their most vulnerable. Despite being uncertain as to his enemy’s true identity, his determination to rid himself of the mentor was such that he had sent Luo Xiang to assassinate Wang Yangming while he himself was on his way to meet Yang Yiqing. He had been prepared to mistakenly kill an old friend and live with that weight on his conscience. Besides, their methods were so different that it was inevitable they would face one another in unpleasant circumstances one day.

  Until then, no one of importance had known that Luo Xiang was three separate men. Each of the brothers had a special quality: one was a skilled swordsman, the next had powerful inner energy, and the last was a master of disguise. They generally avoided showing themselves in public so as to maintain their secret, but the attacks they carried out together were always a success – which was why they had become the ace up their master’s sleeve, the card he would play as a last resort. He had already cleared Yang Yiqing of guilt when he received the message telling him that two of the brothers were dead and had decided to solve the problem himself. He was certain now: he could never put an end to Wang Yangming on his own, but the latter was cornered, and his defensive movements suggested that the assassins in Tianzhou had at least managed to injure him. Zhang Yong broke into laughter. How ironic that such a formidable opponent would be betrayed by such a small detail!

  The mentor of the School of Mind could use the way of the heart to instantly protect any part of his body that he focused on, but it demanded considerable concentration which was difficult to maintain during combat. After he was hit by the two successive blows, his internal energy barrier momentarily disappeared. It was at that precise moment that his adversary inflicted a powerful palm strike on the exact spot where he was injured by Luo Xiang several days earlier.

  Crack! Three of his ribs broke. Spurred by his success, the leader of the Tigers repeated the strike with his right hand mercilessly and at tremendous speed, while his left reached for the small package that hung at his victim’s waist. He almost couldn’t contain his excitement as his fingers closed around it; after all the years of searching and fighting, the Precursor Box would finally be his! But his excitement was short-lived. Steel flashed in front of his face, forcing him to jump back to avoid being sliced in two.

  Shao Jun had leapt to her master’s defense, striking a blow with the blade attached to her boot.

  After being hit in the back, Wang Yangming had thrown the half-strangled yuxiao with the neck wound into the water, apparently managing to incapacitate it for good – its inert body now floated on the surface of the river. The young woman took it upon herself to face, or at least occupy Zhang Yong to gain Wang Yangming a respite, which he sorely needed now his ribs were broken. Her attack was so fast and precise that she managed a shallow cut on the leader of the Tigers’ forehead, from which a narrow stream of blood began to run. He was amazed to realize that he had greatly underestimated the former imperial favorite. Until then, he had considered her to be a simple decoy, a means to reach his adversary, but it was clear that she was a skilled fighter in her own right. She had got the better of Wei Bin, the last of the Luo Xiangs, and Qiu Ju. Despite her youth and slim stature, her victories spoke for themselves. Zhang Yong very rarely encountered adversaries of her caliber, but here she was. A murderous gleam entered his gaze. It was an unlooked-for opportunity to kill two birds with one stone by ridding himself of both people most likely to revive the Brotherhood.

  While the young woman didn’t lack in courage, she lacked confidence, which was not helpful in this extraordinary fight. The boat was unstable, the superhuman strength of the men that had emerged from the water a huge source of worry, and her weapon was under her horse’s saddle again… but when the yuxiao stabbed by Wang Yangming sent a punch towards her, she surprised it by parrying with little difficulty. She absorbed the impact and seized the guard of the sword in her adversary’s chest. Pressing her foot against its body for leverage, she pulled on the sword to release the weapon from the vice of flesh, muscles, and bone. Behind her, her master succumbed to exhaustion and passed out. The situation was becoming increasing desperate. She kicked out with such power that the heel of her boot sank into the yuxiao’s ribcage with a sickening crunch. It was thrown backwards into the water as the blade was finally freed.

  Sword in hand, Shao Jun felt her courage swell. She was surprised to be so easily rid of the monster when the one she tried to strangle had given her so much trouble, but now wasn’t the time to stop and think. A metallic whistle rang out, and one of the two superhuman warriors still on the boat quickly jumped into the river as if responding to a signal. Even more surprisingly, Zhang Yong jumped onto its back, then they rushed away from the boat at high speed thanks to the yuxiao’s swimming skills. It made no sense. Wang Yangming was hovering between life and death, and the Tiger had undoubtedly held the upper hand. Wh
y flee instead of finishing off his opponent? She had no chance to pursue them, because the single warrior remaining on the boat launched itself at her, face inexpressive and body gleaming like a demon.

  The young woman didn’t know what these inhuman monsters were, but she was determined to use every tool at her disposal. She nimbly dodged its charge, using the railing to pivot, then brought her sword down to slash at its shoulder with all the strength she could muster. The blade sliced through the fighter’s flesh and severed its spine at the base of the neck. Not even the strongest man could survive such an injury. Its arms flailed for a moment, then it stiffened and fell backward into the water.

  Upstream, Zhang Yong had nearly reached the bank, too far away for any pursuit. At the beginning of the ferocious battle the young woman had believed the four colossi were identical, but she realized that she had been mistaken. The one she had just killed hadn’t caused her any great difficulty, while the first she had attacked had seemed invincible. Despite their varying levels of resilience, their numbers and considerable toughness combined with the leader of the Tigers, had been enough to seriously injure Master Yangming.

  She approached him and rested her hand on his back to transfer some of her own inner energy to him. The technique was even more effective because they both practiced the way of the heart, and little by little, the mentor’s near-empty chenmai meridian regained some semblance of vitality. However, when he opened his eyes, his pallid skin and feverish tremors sent his pupil spiraling into the depths of sorrow.

  “Young girl…” he murmured.

  “Master…”

  He sat up and tidied his clothing.

  “I am not worthy of your trust, young girl. I am deeply sorry.”

  Shao Jun then understood that Zhang Yong had stolen the Precursor Box, the box she entrusted to her master for safekeeping. The young woman grabbed the boat’s oars.