The Sword Saint’s Disciple
“Feel free.” You give a wide gesture at the Taishan disciples, inviting Murong Yandi to help himself. With a sombre nod and a word of thanks, he steps forward as you retreat. “Can he handle it?” asks Guo Fu concernedly, rubbing his neck. “If he can’t, we’ll go to his aid,” you reply. “Xiaoxiang, did the tournament officials issue you with any throwing weapons?”
Qilin shakes her head. “No, but they gave me some pebbles when I asked.”
“You could have used it to help us out just now.”
“Oh, the two of you were handling yourselves pretty well. I didn’t see the need to interfere.”
“If Murong doesn’t beat them, I’ll need you to back us up. Guo Fu will make the initial charge, you will keep them distracted with the pebbles, and I’ll pick them off,” you say quickly. “It’s a simple tactic, I think we can pull it off.”
“Yes, sir,” says Guo, while Qilin only smiles at you.
You turn your attention back to Murong Yandi, who is confronting the Taishan formation. His sword is tucked at his waist. He is standing with his arms held to his side, his pose calm and sturdy. The Taishan disciples move as one, surging forward as their feet patter in complex movements.
Murong Yandi is faster. In a flash he has drawn his sword, raising it up high and gripping the hilt with both hands. As he brings it down hard, well before the Taishan fighters have reached him, you can see a faint ripple trailing along the sword’s movement in the air.
Sword qi. He is channeling his inner strength into the sword, using it as a conduit to extend his reach. A tangible, barely visible pressure emanates from his blade like a visible gust of shimmering wind. It roars forward and hits Taishan Two and Three before they can get out of the way. They are thrown backwards by the force, knocking them clear out of the ring. You had heard that skilled swordsmen could cut their targets without touching them physically with a sword, but this was the first time you had seen sword qi in action. The remaining two pause in shock.
Murong Yandi does not stop. He closes the distance, as swift as a snake, and thrusts his sword into Taishan Four’s abdomen. Although the blade does not pierce flesh, a ragged hole is torn in Taishan Four’s clothes where he struck, as Murong Yandi channels his sword qi to augment his thrust. Taishan Four falls to him, and he turns to take on Taishan One. Before you know it, the match is over, with Taishan One kneeling in surrender.
For some reason, you can feel your fingers twitching in anticipation. The swordsman is fast, true enough, but you think you might just be a little faster. Pitting your skills against him should teach you some interesting tricks - you are already beginning to wonder how you can overcome his sword energy.
The tournament official, slightly flabbergasted at Murong’s swift victory, declares your team the winner of the match. The Taishan disciples hobble off, looking fearfully at the Sword Saint’s disciple as they leave.
You whistle as Murong comes back to the team. “Those were some really fancy moves. What did they say to get you so angry?” He scowls slightly, shaking his head. “I am still nothing compared to my master, and I would prefer not to gossip about their rude behaviour.”
“Fair enough, Young Master Murong. By the way, if you can beat four of the Taishan Seven Heroic Youths so easily, why haven’t you won the tournament before this?” you ask.
To your surprise, Murong Yandi flushes slightly. “I-It’s my first time participating in a public tournament. I only joined this year because I desired to fight the famous Bai Jiutian, but to my disappointment he did not participate.”
You suppose he harbours some slight feelings of rivalry towards the Huashan swordsman said to be the best of your generation. As the disciple of the swordsman who is the best of his generation – indeed, the best of any current living generation – he would definitely have to surpass Bai Jiutian to be acknowledged as a pupil worthy of his master.
The remaining two matches go by extremely quickly. After Murong Yandi’s display of power, a dejected despair set itself in the remaining competitors in your group. The two matches were solved by merely having Guo Fu toss them out of the ring. Taishan also beat the other two schools, but by the end of the day the result was clear: you would be advancing into the elimination finals.
The winners of the preliminary stages are called into the main hall to draw the lots for the tournament brackets. Each contestant’s name would be called out, and a number would be drawn to determine their position in the bracket. Looking around, you can see a few familiar faces. Xuzhan and three of his monk friends are present. So are Yifang and the Emei nuns, though Cao’er is not around. You note the Three Wudang Brothers have made it, standing with dignity in their Taoist robes. A sole young beggar is scratching his behind shamelessly at the back of the hall. Interestingly, there are also three other participants besides you in animal masks – a tiger, a wolf and a cock.
As the drawing begins, Qilin stands on the tip of her toes and whispers sweetly in your ear, “Don’t drink the water from tomorrow onwards.”
The contestants’ names are called out one by one, and strips of cloth bearing their name are pinned on the great wooden board as they receive their numbers. One by one, the first matches for tomorrow are filled up.
“Hm, I’m facing the beggar,” mutters Qilin. “He should be able to take something stronger.”
Your name is called. Then, your number is drawn. They pin your cloth on the board, next to Yiling of Emei – the nun that had come in second in last year’s tournament.
“Ooh, good luck,” giggles Qilin. You sigh underneath the mask.
When the drawing is complete, you peer at the board, taking note of the people you know.
***
You exit the tournament area separately from the others. Finding a quiet, deserted alley, you quickly remove the mask and shove it into your garments. The sun is setting and soon the streets will be dark, though the city is lively at all times of the day. Suddenly, you hear a loud cry from behind you.
Turning around, you see a person garbed entirely in black, even though it’s still light. They raise their hand to strike at you. You instinctively parry their attack, knocking their arm aside. You can see slight surprise in the person’s uncovered eyes that you deflected their blow so easily.
“Somebody stop that bastard!” shouts someone else. As a man garbed in the yellow Kunlun uniform rush in, the person-in-black laughs. You cannot tell whether it is a man or a woman. In a thin, reedy voice, they proclaim, “Foolish do-gooders. I am the disciple of Zhang Jue! You will never capture me so easily!” You hold back an urge to declare that you’re his disciple. “You attacked me,” shouts the man. “You’re not getting off that easily, regardless of who you are to the Southern Maniac!”
With another laugh, the person-in-black leaps up a nearby building and runs. The Kunlun disciple attempts to give chase, but collapses from his injuries. You are about to go and help him, but a group of orthodox sect members are already coming to his aid.
What a troublesome encounter. You had actually planned to secretly drop by where the Emei was staying and get into contact with Cao’er so that you could prepare for your match with the nun Yiling tomorrow. She should know a thing or two. Unfortunately, you also feel like you should go after this strange impostor immediately before you get framed for worse matters. This could be related to the invite that Master Zhang received - as the Abbess had said, it was unusual for the tournament committee to do so. You’re afraid that if you give chase, however, you will run out of time to dredge up information about your next opponent, and would have to rely on what you can find out tomorrow morning before the match.
***
A. Go after the impostor and attempt to find out what is going on.
B. Meet up with Cao’er to discuss Yiling - your match is more important.