This wuxia short story was first published in an issue of the Chinese wuxia magazine《今古传奇·武侠版》 (Legends Old and New: Wuxia Edition). I’m not sure which issue or which years because I can’t find the original Chinese text I translated it from about ten years ago. So I also couldn’t check the original text for translation mistakes.
This post is another interlude while I work on finishing The Silver Sword Grudge, which should be done early next week. I split the final chapter into eleven parts for my own convenience and have published the first six of them. I’m working on the last five and plan to release them all at once, so just one more update for The Silver Sword Grudge.
Master Guan
Qu Yehe
Among the rivers and lakes, the news had already spread: “Ruthless Mad Demon” Situ Lang had challenged “Boundless Sky Swordsman” Guan Yuechen to a duel on the top of Huashan on the seventh day of the seventh month.
The news spread like a plague throughout the rivers and lakes. It caused a huge stir, and people were already comparing it to the duel between Ximen Chuixue and Ye Gucheng at the Forbidden City.
When Guan Yuechen heard his friends make such comparisons, he only laughed. “Ximen Chuixue and Ye Gucheng are unique and unparalleled. I’m no Ximen Chuixue, and Situ Lang is no Ye Gucheng; he and I are just ordinary fighters. Duels such as the one between he and I happen all the time within the rivers and lakes. It’s more common than eating.” What a pity that out of all swordsmen, there may never be a matchup as worthy as Situ Lang versus Guan Yuechen.
The five managers of the Silver Hook gambling house did the unthinkable and closed their doors and discussed for three days and three nights before declaring the odds: 1:1. Really no one could guess which of the two would emerge the victor.
The Silver Hook gambling house had information on almost all famed fighters. For example, there was special mention of Situ Lang’s weapon.
Of course Situ Lang would use a sword, but his was no ordinary sword—the blade was forged from iron, carefully refined and a hundred times, and was more narrow than ordinary blades and three inches longer. But the most special feature was the hilt. Crafted from platinum, it was two times longer than usual. This kind of strange sword of course would be paired with unusual sword skills. So Situ Lang’s unusual sword skill was rated as one of a kind among the rivers and lakes. At least three martial artists masters had been killed by his blade.
Yet, there was no information at the Silver Hook gambling house regarding Guan Yuechen’s sword.
It’s not that no one had ever seen his sword.
It’s just that those who had caught sight of his sword were all dead–all killed by this unseen sword.
Guan Yuechen had began his journey within the rivers and lakes when he was eighteen. He led the life of the swordsman for twenty years, from when he was “Little Xia” Guan until he became “Big Xia” Guan, and then from “Big Xia” Guan to Master Guan. Countless souls departed their bodies at the blade of his sword.
Famed fighters such as the “Nine Ghosts of Dongting”, whose death caused a great stir within the gallant fraternity. So much so that people said that “Guan Yuechen Kills the Nine Ghosts of Dongting in One Day” and “The Evil Taoist Priest Attacks the Five Tigers of Black Horse Mountain by Night” are regarded as the biggest things to happen among the gallant fraternity in twenty years.
But no one knew what kind of sword Guan Yuechen used, how long, how wide, how heavy. Nobody knew.
Whenever anyone asked him, Guan Yuechen would only laugh and say, “My sword is for killing people, not for people to look at.”
At last, the seventh day of the seventh month arrived. It was “Lover’s Day”, and it was not yet dusk, yet the foot of Huashan was a mass of people. Gallant men from all over the country had come; no one wanted to miss these two famous swordsmen fight to the death. What a pity that no one could actually step foot on the mountain.
Since ancient times it had been this way: “Iron Constable” Sinan took a chair and sat at the foot of the mountain and lightly spoke, “When there is a duel, no more than two people are allowed on the mountain.” Since then, no one had been brave enough to set foot on the mountain. Everyone knew that avoiding Iron Constable Sinan’s spirit eye was more difficult than avoiding Guan Yuechen’s sword. But everyone still crowded around the foot of the mountain; no one left. They were all waiting for Guan Yuechen to appear.
“Even if we can’t see the fight, we can still get a glimpse of Guan Yuechen’s sword if we wait here.” For twenty years, Guan Yuechen’s sword has already been a mystery among the rivers and lakes.
“Master Guan and Mad Demon Situ arrived on the mountain three days ago,” Sinan laughed lightly. “In a true test of martial experts, one blade of grass, one rock can change the outcome and decide the victor.” So, Situ Lang and Guan Yuechen, before the duel, went over the area carefully, inspecting every inch of ground, until they understood the position of every blade of grass and the placement of every stone.
Going through such life and death experiences countless times let them know how they should handle it.
Night, already deep into the night.
Guan Yuechen and Situ Lang stood at the summit of Huashan. The duel hadn’t started, yet the mountain wind suddenly intensified. If they had been ordinary people, they would have been blown off the mountain by the force of the wind. Guan Yuechen and Situ Lang were both like black pines, however, firmly rooted to the ground, facing the wind.
They looked at each other and smiled, and almost at the same time said “Come!” Guan Yuechen carefully drew his sword.
When Situ Lang saw Guan Yuechen’s sword, he was a bit shocked.
“Guan Yuechen, that looks like a wooden sword.”
Guan Yuechen laughed. “It is a wooden sword.”
“Almost everyone’s had a guess at what kind of sword you use. But no one would have thought that Master Guan uses a sword made from wood. It’s unbelievable that the Nine Ghosts of Dongting, famed throughout the land for thirty years, could have fallen to a wooden sword like that.”
“You’re wrong,” Guan Yuechen said. “When I killed the Nine Ghosts of Dongting, it was with a Black Iron Watchtower sword. When I killed “Bad Man of the Rivers and Lakes” I used a Willow Brow sword. When I killed “Black Phoenix” I used Ice Cold Blood Sword. Different opponents call for a different sword.”
Situ Lang laughed wildly. “So you pick a wooden sword to fight me with. That means…you truly look down on me, huh.”
Guan Yuechen smiled faintly, “Why must we talk so much. Draw your sword.”
Situ Lang carefully took his sword out from its case and gripped it tightly in both hands, and slowly raised it above his head.
Guan Yuechen knew Situ Lang’s stance well. It looked like a normal stance, but when he attacked from that position, even the strongest force would not be enough to ward off the blow. But it looked as if he weren’t even looking at his opponent. His stance was not firm, his feet not set wide apart. He held his sword lightly down by his waist. He seemed to be leaving his guard completely open. Situ Lang knew, however, that no matter what angle he attacked from, he would still be within his opponent’s range.
Although Guan Yuechen used only a wooden sword, Situ Lang still dared not be careless.
When two masters exchange blows, victory or defeat is often decided by some small, careless mistake.
They both maintained their stances on the summit of Huashan.
The wind blew harder and harder, dark clouds gradually accumulating in the night sky.
Suddenly, a thunderclap rolled down from the heavens.
A flash of lightning passed through the blade, striking Situ Lang.
Situ Lang let out a muffled groan and was thrown three feet, his entire body blackened and charred by the lighting strike.
Guan Yuechen sheathed his sword and went over to Situ Lang’s corpse. He shook his head. “This kind of violent tempest in the night, and you run to the top of Huashan with an iron sword. You only have yourself to blame for drawing the lightning to you; you brought about your own end.” He threw his wooden sword down a ravine and, hands clasped behind his back, left.
In the twinkling of an eye the downpour ceased.
The next day, dawn. The crowd of people waiting at the foot of the mountain were no longer able to hold back their curiosity. One after another they made their way to the top of the mountain. Guan Yuechen was nowhere to be seen, only a scorched corpse. Someone identified the body as that of Situ Lang.
Consequently, everyone began to feel it was strange. It must have been some kind of sword to be able to turn Situ Lang into a corpse of charcoal.
From that day forward, people often asked Guan Yuechen, “Can your sword emit fire?” Guan Yuechen would only laugh. Before the duel, he already knew there would be a storm on the evening of the seventh day of the seventh month. So he purposefully selected a wooden sword; Situ Lang wielded a famous blade made from refined iron, with a hilt made of platinum, no different than if he had carried a needle. Both conduct electricity, exposing him at any time to a lightning strike.
When Situ Lang and Guan Yuechen were up their fighting, the deciding factor was already determined: not martial arts, but intelligence.
Guan Yuechen long ago understood this principle. So he still lived, and was happy.
But the rest of his life was filled with a legendary quality; the story of the “Raging Flame Spirit Sword” was already said to be bordering on the verge of myth.