The day of the tournament was cloudless and breezy. Prince-Governor Bao revealed the much coveted prize. A sword forged by a legendary craftsman. A weapon of such elegance and strength, that it was almost mystical. It was said it could increase the wielder’s power by a hundred fold, and a master of Qh’i could use it to sunder mountains. Then the prince-governor declared the tournament open –

  The Shaolin disciples were as excited as everyone else as the many heroes and masters displayed their martial prowess, and the spectators talked –

  Two notable heroes, swordmasters both, did not take part in this tournament to win the demon blade and there was much discussion on why that should be –

  – Well, Swordmaster Flecter has his own weapon of choice – No, I don’t think that is the reason at all, I’ve heard it is because he doesn’t think much of relying on demon blades for prowess; he’s always going on about how the blade in one’s heart is sharper than any that can be forged – Maybe it is because he doesn’t think he’d win – Hardly! If I had to place a bet, I’d put it on him, why he is–was–one of the Five Pillars of The Five Pillar School – So what’s the story with that Saenko Shua? Why isn’t he in trying his luck? – Oh, that’s Saenko Shua? Huh! I expected someone older! – Time to lock up your daughters, old friend! – Sure, he is young and dashing and highly distinguished, but his story is so sad – Really? – Yes, so sad! I wonder if his nemesis is going to show up at this event – Nemesis? – Yes, have you heard of the Black Dragon? That’s who – The Black Dragon? – The infamous mercenary bounty hunter who always demands payment upfront in case he picks up the trail of his vendetta and forgets to complete the job – What’s the point of hiring such a man? – Well, if it is a job no one else can do, he can do it, but it is just that if he picks up the scent of his quarry, it might take some time–and you’d better be certain you won’t change your mind: he’d sooner beat his employer to death than consent to leave a job half-done; that’s how insane he is! – What is the nature of this vendetta? – … some sort of death-feud that started ages ago, between the Black Dragon and Saenko’s father–who, by the way, was another Pillar of the Five Pillar School, now defunct because; well it is hard to be a Five Pillar School if one of the Pillars turns out to be an evil genius, and another is forced into self-imposed exile to avoid bloodshed changing his name from Zenus Salenzo to Shua – Why? – Who knows the truth of the upset, but if I had to judge, I’d say it was the fault of the Black Dragon. He comes from a long line of rabid berserkers, the craziness is in the blood and it comes out sooner or later – … and Black Dragon isn’t his real name either: they started calling him that after he swore the oath to slay Zenus and all his progeny, poor man! – To think they were the best of friends before the feud! – I hope that Saenko finds and finishes him off! Good riddance to the last of them –

  On and on – the Shaolin boys heard snatches of exciting commentaries on who’s who in the wulin gathering as they watched hero after hero defeated and made to stand aside as stronger and stronger masters came to the fore.

  – What is the Black Dragon’s real name? – What is his lineage? – Oh, that’s no secret – His real name is Eikan Lam, he’s the son of ‘Iron-Fist’ Lam, the commander of the Western Armies – It is probably a bit before your time, but take it from me ‘Iron-Fist’ Lam was really famous … still is, but he’s a bit old now – Have you not heard of the rather interesting developments … some territorial dispute between the wardens of the West and North … talk of overthrowing the current tyrant … – Tusk! Same old story – There’s always been – But lately there is a resurgence of the Western Armies because – What’s interesting in this case is that this old commander, this ‘Iron-First’ Commander disappeared for a decade or so, and then reappeared, it makes you wonder, doesn’t it, as to why he left in the first place, where he could have been all this time and why does he show up now all of a sudden … – tell me your theories, if you must, later … when we have more time –

  For three days, the event continued and eventually only a handful of masters stood in contention. The bouts lasted longer …

  On the fifth day, only two masters remained and the battle which started after breakfast lasted until late afternoon, when the victor raised his fist and wearily went to the podium where the prince-governor stood, to claim his prize – only to have it snatched from him at the last second by a newcomer –

  – Well, that’s clever! To wait until the last minute to snatch the prize away – Yeah, when the opponent is too darn tired to argue! – No, he’s not going to get away with it – Look, all the heroes are going to stand up and press for the return of the demon blade to he who won it fair and square – It could be they want to nick it for themselves amidst the chaos –

  But the slim thief was more than equal to the task of beating off the righteous crowds, especially when he had the demon blade to help him. Then, another mysterious stranger appeared. He flung back his cloak and the crowds gasped –

  – Smote! It’s Smote! The Smote Man!– Who? – The villain who held the prince-governor prisoner – … whole pack of trouble to get rid of him last time – should have killed him when they had the chance, what’s he doing here? – Too much excitement! I’m exhausted –

  The powerfully-built villain held out his hand, and the slim stranger placed the demon blade into it with a deferential bow.

  – Hey, I recognise that young man, it’s Reece! – Who, what? – Reece Flecter! That’s Swordmaster Flecter’s son! – Really? – No wonder he looks like he’s trying to swallow a green lemon! – What’s a hero’s son doing aiding a known villain? – Hell knows! Maybe his son is a criminal at heart! And you know crap mud never sticks to the pot! – Maybe it is because the father is always more interested in the goings on of gongwu society and fails to notice the problems at home; a classic case of neglect! – Serves him right, the stuck up bastard! –

  A new wave of heroes and martial masters readied themselves to do battle with Smote – Just then, another stranger appeared, even more spectacularly than the previous two – He was not only impressively swathed in a billowing overcoat, but also hooded, and visor-masked – And his target was the demon blade, which he removed from Smote’s fists as easily as one might take a hook out of a fish. Then he leapt away. All the supreme masters followed and bore witness to the stranger’s next awesome deed. The City of Claymount was built a short distance away from a mountain, which had a sheer face on one side. Upon this face of dark stone, the mysterious martial master used the demon blade to carve a bunch of words, and then he drove the blade into the mountain as if to punctuate – then he disappeared, leaving the assembled masters to admire his handiwork.

  “Look how beautiful his words are,” said one scholarly fellow.

  “So what if his words are beautiful – I can’t read,” said the koban next to him.

  “Oh, can’t you?” said the scholar. “As they say, a clever man holds a pen for his living. A dumbass earns it by the sweat of his back until it breaks, but that is nothing to a lazy dumbass! He holds out a bowl for a living – if you could call it a living. He contributes nothing to society, and is a parasitic turd who offends the eye and nose of decent persons with his unsightly and unsavoury filthy –”

  The koban, realising the insult was on his head, raised his staff meaning to use it to crack open the head of the scholar – but just as quickly, the scholar drew his sword and blocked the staff, with a menacing smile. A second well-dressed scholar held out both hands to the pair in a placating manner, “Please, let’s put aside argument for now until things are clearer. I can’t read myself and it isn’t for lack of perseverance when I was younger. I could recite the whole of the Analects and Odes if you like, but I won’t be able to read one word of it to you.”

  “Why’s that?” asked the first scholar.

  The second scholar’s companion turned towards them and said, “Because the master was born sightless.”

  “Oh?” said the first scholar, “then how do you manage?”

  The second scholar’s companion explained, “I do his reading for him.” And he proceeded to read out the words written on the mountain face –

  “It all sounds very impressive,” said the koban, “but I can’t make head or tail of it.”

  “Let me explain it in simple terms so that even one such as yourself can understand it,” said the first scholar in a rather exasperated tone. “Basically, he is deploring all the fighting that has taken place to win ownership of the demon blade and thus he has driven the sword into the mountainside so that none may claim it, and he expresses the hope that it will serve as a reminder to the futility of strife, for all time.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “No, no, that isn’t what it means at all!” said the second scholar. “Look the last line says, ‘Who so pulls forth the blade may claim to be the rightful owner!’ How is that to mean what you just said?”

  “Yes, but if you examine the prose and read between the lines, you will see that he is doubting anyone will be able to do that! Sarcasm! Get it?” retorted the first scholar.

  “I would have thought one as powerful as he would be above that sort of humour!” the second scholar shot back.

  “Arrogant twerp,” said the koban.

  Whatever it was that the mysteriously cloaked and masked martial master meant was put to one side as various heroes attempted to free the blade from the mountain, and one by one fell back exhausted. It was some time before the wulin gathering returned to Claymount and realised that certain people had disappeared entirely: the much distinguished Saenko Shua (most likely to hunt the Black Dragon some elsewhere), the Swordmaster Flecter, Reece Flecter – and the super villain Smote.

  A few days after this event, a rather enterprising young man suggested to Prince-Governor Bao that he could try wresting the demon blade from the mountain with the help of a stonemason. So a skilled craftsman was contracted and scaffolding was put in place. That was when the people learned it was not that simple. Each time the stonemason struck with his chisel and hammer at the stone around the demon blade, there was a sound like a gale wind shattering thick glass, and the chisel was broken along its length. It was as if the demon blade resented the mean trick, and responded with a gust of razor Qh’i to punish and turn aside the inferior metal. It became widely agreed that only a martial master of the same calibre as that mysterious martial master would be able to remove it. So the scaffolding was taken away, and the event turned into a legend.

  ~~~

  Upon returning to Shaolin, Mao’s first action was to look for his friend. He found Keihan in the kitchen yard, sitting on the step outside the firewood storeroom, busy fastening long straw to a stick to make a new broom.

  “What are you doing?”

  Keihan finished tying the last bit of straw into place and putting the broom aside, stood up and smiled. “How has it been?”

  “You wouldn’t believe it!” Mao started to tell him all about it, but was interrupted by the appearance of a youthful servant who took the new broom from Keihan and thanked him with a polite bow and honorific.

  “Sir? Did that servant just call you sir?” asked Mao. “What have you been up to?”

  “That servant only started a month ago. I got bored so I started telling some of the servants what to do and now, one of my jobs is to give out jobs and tell them how it should be done and in what order. It’s just that when you’ve done something long enough, you naturally see ways it can be done better, and the work shared out more efficiently, for example – Ah! never mind, it’s of no interest to you – so, tell me how was your outing? Was it as exciting as you made out back then?”

  “Even better!” Mao told him as much as he remembered, with many gestures to illustrate. While he told the story of the Claymount events, the two boys went to Mao’s room in the junior halls to take their belongings and find Mao’s new room in the senior hall. Mao was to be a senior disciple, and Cragon was to be his new sihfu –

  The next day, Mao presented himself to Cragon Monk.

  Cragon appraised the young man, and then asked him, “How old are you?”

  “Nearly fourteen, sihfu.”

  “What can you do?”

  Mao started to say how he had mastered all the basic stances, but he was cut off abruptly.

  “I know that, or why else would you be talking to me? I don’t want to know that, I want to know what you can do!”

  “I don’t understand, sihfu.”

  “What can you do that is beyond the basic training?”

  “Er, nothing, sihfu.”

  Cragon nodded, and said, “Come with me.” He closed the door to his room and walked away with a speed Mao thought rather unnecessary. They arrived at the library where the little monk introduced him to the Form manuals.

  “You can read, can’t you?”

  “Yes, sihfu.”

  “Then you will start with this book, The Sweeping Willow. Any questions then come to me. You can make your own copy of it here in the library. The originals are not to leave this room, and the copies you make you are to leave with me when you leave. You are honour bound to see that none of the lore leaves the temple. Understood?”

  “Yes, sihfu.” Mao bowed obeisance, and the little monk went away leaving Mao to tackle the first Form of the Sixty Four.

  Being senior disciples living in the same yard meant that Junho and Mao, these two mortal enemies, crossed each other’s paths often. Cragon never noticed the enmity between them. Throughout the Claymount expedition, Mao and Junho had studiously avoided each other, and now it was wordlessly decided that they put aside their childhood feuding and henceforth hold a frosty peace. They would never go so far as to forge a friendship, or propose to exercise together and compare notes (the normal practice for disciple-brothers under the same sihfu).

  Mao tackled three Forms in as many months and since in all that time Mao rarely went to seek Cragon, the little monk took it upon himself to check on his second disciple and found him reading one of the Form manuals on the stone bench, leaning on the tree behind it.

  “How are you getting on?” Cragon asked.

  “Fine,” replied Mao. “Actually, can I ask you to explain this One Element Webs?”

  “Certainly,” said Cragon. He swept a bit of snow off the bench with his sleeve and sat down. “Isn’t that a bit far ahead? Have you mastered all fifteen of the previous Forms!”

  “No, sihfu. I am still practising The Steel Scorpion but I thought I’d do some reading ahead. I don’t understand this – what are element webs?”

  “Our martial art separates Qh’i into different types. There are five elements: flame, wind, water, earth and metal. They each have different properties, for example, and broadly speaking, flame is hot, wind is lightness, water is yielding when liquid, cold when ice, raging when steam, earth is solid, and metal is sharp. We have all these elements within ourselves. When you practice One Element Webs, you are using your Qh’i according to one of these types. For example, if you cast a flame element web, you are using the heat energies within yourself. You should already know about using the wind element web. During the basic exercises you will have practised lightness of feet and body. The only difference is that at this level, there is more focus. Also, if you have mastered element webs, you will find it much easier to use internal energies to defend and attack. As you know when there is an action, there is always an opposite reaction. You will find that this action and reaction can occur inside as well as outside. This also creates a big difference in the fighting skills of one who has mastered this, and one who has not.”

  “Do you mean to say that it is possible to channel Qh’i along your body such that a person watching can’t actually tell that it is happening?”

  “Certainly. And it is not just along your own body that Qh’i may be channelled, but also along another persons. There are certain Forms that require this. Do you remember at Claymount? The dispute between Seiskein Sihfu and the Daymoon Sect leader? That is one example of this possibility. It is infinitely possible to transfer Qh’i energies to things outside the body.”

  Mao nodded thoughtfully. “What happens when you practise Two Element Webs?”

  “Essentially, the same thing, except there is a greater combination of possibilities. If you only have the one element, you are limited by the properties of that element. When there are two, then you have two types of energies. However, it is more difficult and so much more dangerous, so it is essential that you practise with me at that stage.”

  “Yes, sihfu.”

  “Excellent. I see you are progressing rapidly. I had heard from Wai Sihfu that you were very slow to learn, but I see that this is not the case. It was a question of motivation. Do you find the martial arts more interesting at this level?”

  “It is, sihfu.”

  “Excellent. I have heard that your father was a child prodigy. A Master of the Four Sides Dojo at seventeen and a Master of the Northern Fist at nineteen! It is a great pity that he only uses his genius for selfish ends, but I can see you are different. I shall expect great things from you.”

  “Yes, sihfu.”

  “When you are Master of the Sixty Four, you will be among the greatest martial masters. And when you are Master of the Secret Scroll, you will be unsurpassed in all of the middle kingdoms. What is there that you cannot accomplish then? Order and justice and preserving the peace will be as easy as turning your palm when your mastery is at that level,” said Cragon, his eyes glowed with heroic passion. “Who would not know your name then? Why, even the emperor himself must make your acquaintance!”

  “Er, quite,” said Mao, a bit startled at this prophecy.

  Cragon collected himself. “Forgive me, I get ahead of myself sometimes. So, do you have any more questions?”

  “Not at this moment, sihfu.”

  “Very well,” said Cragon and got up.

  Mao also got up to bow obeisance. When the monk had gone, Mao sat down again, and thought deeply.

  The next day, he received a letter from his father ordering him to visit home again. Aramond’s letter also stated that since the last soldier had perished so easily, he would not bother sending another. He expected the boys to arrive in time for the New Year celebrations.