Thousand Autumns

— FOR THOSE WHO HAVE STUDIED WUGONG and reached the pinnacle of their art, to wander alone[2] with the knowledge can be harmful for them. This is why, when they have reached a certain level, wugong technique becomes similar to that of a foreign object—it is not necessarily the key to victory.

However, this certainly does not mean that technique is not essential. Just as words are the voice of the mind, what is beautiful on the inside should be just as well on the outside. If only one’s neigong is unparalleled their whole life, then it would be tantamount to possessing a mountain of treasure with empty hands, yet not knowing how to use it.

Qi Fengge was the most brilliant wugong master of his time. Those who have thoroughly studied swordsmanship can be lost by the splendor of countless sword techniques; they may not know how to apply each one. The better choice is to simplify what is complicated; so Qi Fengge took the swordplay techniques of Xuandu Mountain and consolidated them. In the end, he left behind two sets of techniques: of them, one was the famous Canglang Sword Technique.

The sets of sword techniques from Xuandu Mountain combined the Daoist doctrines of tranquility and inaction, as well as the Daoist practice of ziran[3] theory. There is an emphasis on moving as one with silence[4] and striking only after one’s opponent has, as well as on agility and elegance. As it happened, Shen Qiao’s personality worked well in accordance with this skillset, so when he studied it, his approach often yielded twice the results.

But when he had begun to cultivate the true qi from the Zhuyang Ce, his former swordplay techniques gradually became less suitable for him, for the true qi of the Zhuyang Ce did not only contain Daoist theory, but also the essence of Confucian and Buddhist teachings combined into one. The capable and vigorous nature of Confucianism, as well as the unwavering strength of Buddhism could not possibly be embodied in the Canglang Sword Technique.

However, even if all things in this world had their differences, they will also inevitably share some similarities. Earlier, when he had seen that performer dancing as he practiced calligraphy, he noticed that the performer did not seem to perform for the crowd of onlookers, despite being in a loud market and performing his art to turn a profit. Instead, he was wholeheartedly immersed in what he was doing. He performed, with unwavering concentration, a dance filled with joy. The dancing style of the Western regions was bold and unrestrained; yet calligraphy was a meticulous art. By bringing these two arts together, he created an exotic sort of harmony that bridged both strength and gentleness. Though onlookers may simply think that his actions were very beautiful, Shen Qiao had vicariously learned through the experience, and from it, he had created an entirely new sword technique.

At this moment, his body rose as his blade fell. The light from the blade shined freely as the winter sun fell behind the tops of the trees. Though much life has withered here, this single person and his sword swept over the land, cleansing it. He turned his body and began to move in such a way that it resembled the supple and yielding nature of the spring breeze and rain, and other times, the firm and transcendent nature of the Buddhist chu[5].

The mild spring sun, the clear summer moon, all of it was within him.

The rustling autumn breeze, the cold winter grass, conceal, but do not harm.

The pure mountains and rivers, the torrential Jianghan river, their essence as though heaven-made.

A divine light shines and departs,

and it would be suddenly light, suddenly dark.

He stood as though like a crane, bringing its lithe and graceful body to its feet,

preparing to fly, having yet to soar. [6]

As his soul was in his sword,

his sword was in his person.

The corporeal world, this self, forgotten,

and with this, he comes to a clear, transparent understanding.

The surrounding trees collapsed, one after the other, as the jian qi drew near it, as though experiencing the effects of the jian qi upon itself. A narrow trail of jian qi emerged from the soil beneath him, which was once cold and hard. The jian qi was sometimes deep, and sometimes shallow; sometimes it was long, and sometimes it was short. Occasionally, the dead leaves would part from their branches one by one, as though in awe of the jian qi--yet before they touched the ground, they would be spun around by the jian qi that encircled it.

Suddenly, the point of the sword would tremble, and the withered leaves would seem to move somewhat with it, before each leaf suddenly shooting ahead with such force that it plunged three zhang deep into the trunks of the trees—not revealing any more, and not leaving any less.

That a master could pour true qi into flowers in the breeze or falling leaves to wound someone was not unheard of; however, to use a sword to defend from the leaves was at least a level beyond that.

The Shanhe Tongbei sword hummed a low vibration, as though fluctuating with its user’s frame of mind. Concealed within it were the boundless mountains and rivers; the sound of the wind, the thunder, the ocean waves. The light of the blade was not so bright that it blinded the eyes, but only enough to produce a weak layer of illumination to the body of the sword, having a much softer appearance than before. However, this light could move with Shen Qiao’s will—appearing and disappearing intermittently, rising and falling as he did.

With this technique complete, Shen Qiao stood and sheathed his sword. He exhaled a slow, long breath. The excitement he experienced in his heart had not yet completely subsided, while the blood had gone cold in the pit of his stomach, leaving him close to nausea.

He understood that this was because he had understood the realm of jian xin, but his nei li was not yet sufficient enough to manage jian xin, so the jian qi had retaliated against him.

Those who study wugong only wish for a single thing in their lifetimes: to progress without end, climbing each new level. Therefore, while the less talented look up to these masters, it is these masters who, in contrast, wish to continue forwards and climb over such obstacles, with no limits as to what they have yet to learn in this sea of knowledge. How can wu dao ever have limits? Jian dao[7] had four boundaries: jian qi, jian yi, jian xin, and jian shen. To many people, jian shen was only something heard of in legends. Outside of the couple Gan Jiang and Mo Ye sacrificing themselves and sacrificing their lives for their swords, having obeyed orders and achieving the boundary of jian shen in this way[8], from the past until now, nearly no other person would ever reach this stage.

As far as those who have reached the stage of jian xin, one would scan all the land and the past several decades, and they would only find that Tao Hongjing and Qi Fengge were the only two people who had ever done this.

And they have passed on. Tao Hongjing and Qi Fengge, in the end, remain a part of history.

While Shen Qiao lives in this moment.

Shen-daozhang sheathed his sword, and remained standing where he was. He slowly relaxed his quick, chaotic breathing. He felt the contentment that had filled his heart gradually disappear. And he suddenly remembered a very serious issue: he had forgotten Yan Wushi back at the restaurant.

Shen Qiao said to himself, this isn’t good, and swiftly headed back to the city.

Yan Wushi didn’t have a fraction of a wen on him. Shen Qiao had even left. If the restaurant’s keeper were to press for money for the meal, it would be difficult to imagine what the other person would do, even if the near-harmless “Xie Ling” was the disposition in control.

Once he thought of this, Shen Qiao’s pace quickened. In the blink of an eye, he had returned to that very restaurant.

Sure enough, standing by their spot by the second-floor window were about seven or eight people. Amongst them was the owner of the restaurant, as well as a few customers.

Yan Wushi was surrounded on all sides by a crowd that fixed their gazes upon him. However, he did not move. Beneath the mi li, one would be unable to make out the expression he wore. At first glance, it would seem that he had just been scolded and sat there, meekly, not daring to move.

Shen Qiao quickly approached them.

“I’m very sorry. Earlier, I had a brief matter to attend to and left for a moment. How much is it together? I’ll pay for it!”

The owner of the restaurant was a Han person. The moment he laid eyes on Shen Qiao, it was as though he had caught sight of his savior. Wearing a bitter look, he began: “Langjun, we’re but a small business. It is difficult in many respects to carry on, especially in a foreign country. We did not want to cause any trouble. But this young niangzi hasn’t any silver money on her. Had you not returned, I would have just regarded this as a loss and moved on. Who would have known that this young niangzi would loiter here and refuse to leave. The moment we tried to persuade her, she...she...”

Shen Qiao looked where the restaurant owner pointed, and could see a cup on the table that had been shattered into a small pile of fine dust, and a pair of chopsticks that had been stabbed into the table. The corners of his lips could not help but twitch somewhat at the sight.

Seeing this, and finding the situation both laughable and rather sad, he apologized repeatedly and paid for the food as well as the tableware that had been destroyed. Once this was done, he pulled Yan Wushi with him and left.

“You...are still Xie Ling, aren’t you?” Shen Qiao asked.

“Mn,” Yan Wushi said.

Shen Qiao cleared his throat somewhat.

“I’m sorry. When I saw that person’s dance performance, I had a sudden spark of inspiration.”

He tugged Yan Wushi down the stairs. The performer was still dancing; though this was one of the coldest days of the year, his forehead shimmered with sweat. One could see that he exerted great effort.

A pity that, in the copper bowl before him, there were very few coins, and the number of people watching him had also fallen.

Shen Qiao counted out nearly half of their coins and placed them into the copper bowl. The performer’s mouth hung open, and he thanked them repeatedly. Shen Qiao nodded at him, before leaving with Yan Wushi.

Once they had walked a good distance, Yan Wushi suddenly said: “You gave him a lot.”

“He had unknowingly planted a willow that grew and gave shade,” Shen Qiao laughed. “He helped me comprehend jian xin. I had actually thought that we had given him too few. It’s just that we do not have much money on us at present, so I could only do as much as I could.”

Yan Wushi did not speak.

He spoke much less than he did regularly. Shen Qiao thought that it was perhaps because Xie Ling resented him for abandoning and leaving him just then, scaring him. After all, ‘Xie Ling’ and the real Yan Wushi did differ to some extent. Shen Qiao smiled as he apologized.

“Are you still angry? I was wrong, I shouldn’t have left you there and went off the way I did. So don’t be angry anymore. I wanted so much to try out that swordplay technique, so I was careless. If you want something to eat or to play with, I’ll go and buy it for you. How about that?[9]”

Yan Wushi was silent for a moment, before saying: “I want another tang ren.”

Shen Qiao was silent.

When the other person said he wanted tang ren, Shen Qiao suddenly felt a small regret. But then again, he had been the one to dig his own grave and jump right into it. He had stated the terms, so how could he not commit to them? Because of this, he could only bring Yan Wushi back to the vendor from earlier that made tang ren. The vendor still recognized them, and smiled curiously: “You two have come back again? Perhaps you still want tang ren?”

Shen Qiao said, embarrassed: “Yes. Please give us another one.”

“Two more,” Yan Wushi said.

“...two more please.” Shen Qiao could only compromise.

Who could possibly regret business at their door? The vendor beamed with smiles, and moved quickly. Two tang ren were immediately spun from sugar and produced.

Yan Wushi took one in each hand. He bit into one and crunched loudly, while Shen Qiao could only pretend not to hear, and took him to the inn for a room.

Every time they had a room, always, one person would sleep in the bed, while the other would meditate. Shen Qiao’s nei li was gradually recovering, so when they had time, he would meditate instead of sleep. This was not only because the other person would not practice wugong, but also because it served as a form of rest.

“Since we have that sheet of silk, you can heal your demonic core now. You had ought to...” Shen Qiao said to Yan Wushi.

But halfway through, he suddenly stopped.

This was because Yan Wushi had removed his mi li and already finished one tang ren. He was just starting on the other tang ren’s “head” and was licking it slowly. He licked it so that the Shen Qiao tang ren’s face and head were glistening all over.

“...what are you doing?” Shen Qiao asked.

Yan Wushi said, innocently: “I’m a little full. So this one, I have to, eat slowly.”

Shen Qiao certainly could not say, ‘could you not lick it?’, because it would sound rather strange. He was eating candy after all. If Shen Qiao were to say this, he would seem overly sensitive.

He could only choose to put it out of sight and out of mind.

“The Central Plains is not like the Western Regions,” Shen Qiao said, finishing his earlier thought, “The moment we enter the country of Zhou, our whereabouts will be revealed sooner or later. Now that you have the sheet of silk, healing your demonic core is imminent. Now that we have time, there isn’t any harm in refining it.”

One he said this, Shen Qiao could not help but shake his head and laugh, spitefully: “Actually, if you were now the real Yan Wushi, you would not leave it to me to caution you about this over and over.”

“If the demonic core is healed,” Yan Wushi said, suddenly, “Xie Ling might not be able to be here.”

Shen Qiao’s smile faded. He was silent. A long moment passed, before he sighed, lightly. “But you cannot possibly be like this for the rest of your life. Perhaps Xie Ling is willing, but Yan Wushi may not.”

'Xie Ling’ was a part of Yan Wushi. However, Yan Wushi would never have returned to save him after he had freed himself and left.

Perhaps it was that every person who had a heart of stone would always have a fragment of tenderness deep within them. Though it was only a fragment so small it was almost nothing, Xie Ling had gotten his share of this fragment. And he had poured all of it into Shen Qiao, who he had deemed most worthy of his trust.

But now, one day, when ‘Xie Ling’ disappears, will this gentleness also disappear with him and leave no trace?

And Yan Wushi, will he remain the selfish and cold Huanyue zongzhu, who would not be swayed by any person?

The other person looked at him with deep, black eyes. He clearly devoted all of his attention to him, possessing no sign of impurity. This was the first time that Shen Qiao had ever seen anything like this in any of Yan Wushi’s other dispositions.

This was Xie Ling, and not Yan Wushi.

Shen Qiao told himself this, before approaching him, and softly caressing the top of the other’s head.

The other person allowed him, only raising his chin slightly, as though rubbing against Shen Qiao’s hand somewhat.

This was something that only Xie Ling could do.

Shen Qiao’s heart became soft at once. And within this softness emerged an inexplicable, sadness.

With the use of the yu congrong herb, Yan Wushi’s head wound had gradually begun to heal over. However, the damaged meridians within him needed to be repaired. It was not something that could be done in a night, and Yan Wushi’s disposition, at present, was fickle, and may not necessarily focus on healing himself, the way he was now. When his body was being controlled by Xie Ling, the desire to heal fell to its absolute lowest point, and his manner of thinking had also simplified somewhat. Even a tang ren was enough to satisfy him.

“The sheet of silk is still with you, right? Let me see it,” Shen Qiao said.

The other person took it out and gave it to him.

Shen Qiao took the sheet of silk and narrowed his eyes, so as to read it. Upon it were characters that were as small as a fly’s head that could have only been embroidered with thread, not written with a brush. For this reason, it did not fade despite the months and years that passed it by.

Written upon it did indeed concern the wugong of the demonic sects. Tao Hongjing, in those years, perhaps had seen the Riyue Sect’s wugong records. The silk sheet was filled with around one thousand characters, and most of it reflected his observations and commentaries on the wugong style of the demonic sects. There was not a concrete discussion about how the key to success with the wugong style of the demonic sects, nor its secret methods. Shen Qiao’s vision was now inadequate; under the weak candlelight, he was able to struggle to finish reading it. His eyes immediately felt so sore that it was difficult to endure. Tears had nearly begun to shed from them.

“It doesn’t seem to say anything about healing the flaw in the demonic core, does it?” he said curiously, handing the sheet of silk back to him.

“There is,” Yan Wushi said.

“Where?” Shen Qiao said.

Yan Wushi shook his head.

After a moment, he said once more: “I don’t know, but he does.”

The meaning of this was that Xie Ling didn’t know, but the original did.

Shen Qiao nodded, and did not ask any more. He waited for the other person to fall asleep before finding a cotton mattress to sit upon and meditate.

Moonlight fell upon them like water, as the hours gave way to night.

Even the distant sound of dogs barking also disappeared. Heaven and earth became immersed in sleep; tranquil quiet permeating inside and out.

The person in bed, however, did not sleep peacefully. Occasionally he would move somewhat, as though he were struggling.

Shen Qiao noticed his movements and opened his eyes. He stood and approached him, so as to look more closely.

“Xie Ling?” he called out in a soft voice.

The man’s brow was tightly knit, as though he were caught in some sort of nightmare.

Shen Qiao extended one hand to touch his forehead. Before he was able to, the other man suddenly opened both of his eyes.

This wasn’t ‘Xie Ling’!

The moment their eyes met, Shen Qiao quickly became cautious. He pulled his hand away and began to draw back.

However, Yan Wushi moved much more quickly than he expected. The other man sat up, as though he were a demon, and grabbed Shen Qiao’s face.

“Yan-zongzhu, it’s me!” Shen Qiao shouted.

But it was to no avail. The other man did not care; his attack was ruthless and severe, every move filled with cruel, killing intent.

Yan Wushi had certainly sustained heavy wounds; however, his wugong was not completely destroyed. Shen Qiao suddenly realized this fact. Before, the man rarely attacked anyone, which was why Shen Qiao had the wrong impression of him.

However, even if this were the real Yan Wushi, he would not attack someone the moment he opened his eyes without caring who they were. He clearly wore a dazed, confused expression...

Shen Qiao suddenly remembered when Banna had said that Yan Wushi had grabbed her neck. However, after that moment, Shen Qiao had never seen the other man exhibit such fierce and irrational behavior, so this incident gradually faded from his memory.

Perhaps this was yet another one of his dispositions revealing themselves?

Shen Qiao was utterly helpless. The two of them exchanged several moves. The current Yan Wushi was not Shen Qiao’s opponent, but how he attacked without regard for his own life concerned Shen Qiao greatly. Shen Qiao absolutely could not kill him either, so in order to prevent their movements from disturbing the other guests at the inn, Shen Qiao searched for an opportunity to close his acupoint.

Yan Wushi fell over, unable to resist any longer. Shen Qiao caught him, and noticed that the other man’s face had suddenly become red and congested. He quickly took the other man’s pulse and found that the energy within him was in complete disorder, rapidly moving everywhere throughout his body. These were clear indications of qi deviation. Shen Qiao, alarmed, quickly reopened the other man’s acupoint.

However, the moment his acupoint was reopened, Yan Wushi suddenly grabbed his neck and leaned into him, and immediately bit his lip!

Shen Qiao felt a sudden pain and wound his arm behind the other man’s neck before striking him harshly. The other man loosened, and then fell on top of him.

It was finally quiet.

Shen Qiao exhaled a sigh of relief. He grasped Yan Wushi’s wrist and took his pulse, and could not help but utter an yi in surprise.

If one were to say that the man was in a state of qi deviation earlier, then at this moment, which was not very long after, his meridians had become completely at peace. Additionally, by complete contrast, a vigorous force of life had even...emerged?

Author’s Note:

Tomorrow, Master Lao-yan will be slowly coming back. →_→

Xie Ling: Meiren-gege.

Shen Qiao; Good boy. (He pats his head.)

Lao Yan: Ah-qiao (～￣▽￣)～

Shen Qiao: Yan-zongzhu. (His expression is cold and detached.)

Lao Yan: (╯‵□′)╯︵┻━┻”