Chapter Five: The Execution of the Elder of the Sun

The two Elders of Yin and Yang reversed their essence, energy, and spirit, transforming their bodies into hellish specters; impervious to water, fire, blades, or arrows. This reversal technique was a sinister secret art from the underworld, rumored to have been passed down from the Valley of Wicked Men in Ghost Valley. Its power was formidable, but the toll on the body was dreadful—organs and souls seared as though by fire and oil, and the user suffered agony akin to having flesh and bone scraped and cut.

The Elder of Yin, ever quick to anger, had bloodshot eyes and drool hanging from his lips. With a chilling shriek, his movements nearly doubled in speed, bringing a murderous, frigid aura as his claws became a flurry of shadows, each aimed at Zhou Xun’s vital points. Zhou Xun frowned; every move from the Elder of Yin was a fight for life with no regard for self-preservation, and his ferocious claws, hard as refined steel and strong as a thousand pounds, would send the sword flying at the slightest contact. For the moment, Zhou Xun could only evade using the Flowing Cloud Flying Feather Steps from the Three Talents Sword Technique. Fortunately, he had honed this footwork over thirty painstaking years, refining it through countless exchanges with Southern martial artists, absorbing the essence of many great masters’ steps until it reached perfection. Thus, he was untroubled for now.

At that moment, the Elder of Yang joined the fray. Four claws flew at once, filling the air with a ghostly dance of claw shadows and howling winds. Zhou Xun could do little but defend, his sword and their ghost claws clashing countless times in rapid succession, but each time, the sword was deflected or knocked aside. Yet Zhou Xun sighed, “What difference is there between you now and wild beasts? Have you forgotten footwork, movement, and technique? In strength, man is no match for brute animals, but since when have beasts ever bested men?”

Zhou Xun then closed his eyes ever so slightly, and his swordplay grew only more exquisite. He listened for their positions, sidestepped Zhang Ying’s claw by a hairsbreadth, then with a hook and lift, redirected Zhang Rang’s force into the ground, spun, and slashed at Tong Rang’s eyes, forcing him to block with both claws. Zhou Xun moved with increasing ease, as though it were not a man wielding a sword, but the sword itself guiding the man. His techniques—hooking, hanging, pointing, lifting, thrusting, raking, and chopping—were simplicity itself, yet drove the two adversaries to sweat.

“To master martial arts, one must first master the flow of energy. Only when your power is silent and smooth have you truly learned. Now, though you are indestructible and strong, and your moves are swift as lightning, where is your hidden strength? Where is your adaptability? After fifty years of training, you fight like fishwives and performing monkeys—unworthy, truly unworthy!”

“You may evade us now, but in a few hours will you still have strength? We have reversed our vital essence and are inexhaustible. Will you still have breath to mock us then?” Zhang Ying sneered, his claw attacks growing more vicious.

“Human strength has its limits, but the way of the sword is boundless as the sea. I have devoted my life to it, and in fifty years have only devised half a move. Today, you shall witness it.”

Finding an opening, Zhou Xun leapt five or six yards away, let the tip of his sword dip, gripped the hilt with both hands, and unleashed his strike.

No words could capture the grandeur of that stroke—like an antelope’s horn, like an immortal descending from the heavens: silent, yet encompassing all. The sword embodied Zhou Xun’s fifty years of devotion to the sword, his pursuit of the Way. It was not a move from the hand, but from the heart, condensing all his essence, energy, and spirit, surpassing human limits. No ordinary man could withstand it; even the indestructible bodies of the Yin and Yang Elders could not resist.

The Elder of Yang, at the front, was cleaved in two, while the Elder of Yin behind him lost an arm to the sword’s edge, his burning organs spilling to the ground. Though their bodies differed from common men, they were still human—and no human could evade that sword.

Though cut in half, Zhang Ying was not yet dead. He fixed his gaze on Zhou Xun and trembled, “You’ve achieved the unity of man and sword?”

“No,” Zhou Xun shook his head. “I have taken half a step beyond.”

“Spare my brother’s life!”

“I told you: sever your arm and you may leave. Now that it is done, you may go.”

“You have surpassed Linghu Xiong!” With that, he closed his eyes.

Zhou Xun paid no heed to the Elder of Yin’s venomous glare and sighed, “This half-step is such a lonely road.” The desolation in his tone was beyond words.

He moved to stand before Zhou Qian and the other two, finding them all unconscious from the shock. Shaking his head, he murmured, “Why did this child bring two others along? Does he not know that secrets are not to be passed on to a third party?” He took out a jade vial and poured out three grayish-brown pills. “Well, you three are lucky to receive these Foundation-Nourishing Pills.”

Moments after taking the medicine, the three awoke. Zhou Qian, seeing Zhou Xun, exclaimed with joy, “Master, you’ve won!”

Zhou Xun nodded. Zhou Qian then asked, puzzled, “Master, why do you look different from earlier today?”

Zhou Xun chuckled. “Is that any way to speak to your teacher? This is but a simple disguise. You’ll have use for it when you roam the martial world. And these two—who are they to you?” He nodded toward Wang Hu and Li Sanshan.

“My name is Li Sanshan, and that’s Wang Hu. We’re Zhou’s sworn brothers. We’ve long admired your fame, sir, and meeting you today is truly an honor. Such heroic bearing! You’re indeed a great hero and master,” Li Sanshan said, grinning obsequiously.

“Sir, you drove out the barbarians and restored our land—your deeds will be remembered for generations. Meeting you today, I could die without regret!” Wang Hu declared earnestly, his words full of sincerity.

With a single glance, Zhou Xun saw through the nature of the two; one slippery, the other straightforward, but neither ill-intentioned. He thought, “Since they are my disciple’s brothers, it would be unkind to drive them away. Let’s see what they want.”

As Zhou Xun remained silent, Zhou Qian spoke up, “Master, Li and Wang are men of loyalty and righteousness. Why not take them as your disciples too?”

Wang Hu and Li Sanshan were shocked; they hadn’t expected Zhou Qian to bring it up so soon. Their hearts were a tumult of gratitude, hope, and apprehension.

Zhou Xun’s face darkened. “Did they ask you to say that?”

Zhou Qian answered honestly, “Second Brother wanted me to, but Eldest Brother said the time wasn’t right and that we should wait. I don’t know when the right time is, but when we swore brotherhood, we pledged to share blessings and hardships. Master, if you teach me martial arts, that’s a great thing. I don’t want to make it hard for you—why not split what you teach me into three parts: one for Li, one for Wang, and one for me?” He beamed, as though he’d thought of an excellent idea.

Li Sanshan and Wang Hu exchanged a glance and rolled their eyes. Zhou Xun simply laughed in exasperation. “You are loyal indeed, wanting to spare me trouble—but tell me, how could martial arts be divided into three?”

He then turned to Li and Wang, speaking solemnly, “I won’t deceive you. To take a disciple, I require opportunity, character, and natural talent—all three are indispensable. And in this life, I intend to take only one disciple. Teaching is no simple matter.”

Li Sanshan protested, “Zhou met you by chance at the noodle stall—there’s fate for you. As for talent, among us three brothers, I’m the cleverest. Eldest Brother is strong enough to lift a hundred-pound stone lock. If you took us all as disciples, wouldn’t that fulfill the requirements of fate, talent, and physique?”

Zhou Qian burst out laughing, “What a sharp-tongued child! Since you’re so persistent, I’ll explain. Ten years ago, I swore at my brother’s grave that in ten years, I’d accept a disciple of exceptional talent and character to carry on our legacy. I searched for ten years and found none. Three months ago, I came north to handle two matters, one of which was to pay respects to my brother. Just entering the city, I heard of a noodle stall run by a youth near the north gate, famed for its chewy and delicious noodles. My interest piqued, I met Qian and saw he was gifted—wasn’t that fate? As for physique, it’s not just about strength. A martial artist needs every one of the body’s 206 bones to be suitable. Qian has broad shoulders, dense ribs, long and fine hands—a natural for martial arts and swordsmanship. As for talent, if you’re so clever, go take the imperial exam. In martial arts, it’s about understanding the essence behind technique, not just quick wits. I observed Qian in secret for three months before accepting him as my disciple. Now do you see how hard it is to find a true student in our world?”

Li Sanshan was left speechless for a while. Just as he was about to protest again, Wang Hu grabbed his arm and shot him a meaningful look. Li Sanshan realized, “The old man is determined not to take us as disciples; better not press and risk his goodwill toward Zhou.”

Wang Hu bowed to the Hundred-Armed Sword Immortal, Zhou Xun. “Since you have no wish for more disciples, we’ll take our leave. My brother may seem slow, but he’s wise beneath it all. Please teach him well.” Zhou Qian started to protest, but Wang Hu glared him silent. Scratching his head, Zhou Qian wondered, “Is Wang angry? I’ll roast him a rabbit leg tomorrow to make it up—and as for martial arts, once I’ve learned, I’ll teach Wang myself.” The thought settled firmly in his heart.