Under the heavy rain, the patrols on rooftops and everywhere else were considerably slackened off. Zhang Wuji followed close after Yuanzhen by hiding behind the building corners and behind big trees. He saw Yuan Zhen leap over the back wall of the Temple. "Turns out Yifu is imprisoned outside the Temple," he thought, "No wonder I can't find any clues inside the Temple."
He did not dare to jump openly over the wall; creeping along the wall, he climbed up slowly to the top of the wall, and then after the patrolling monks passed by, he jumped down to the ground. In the rain, he saw that the top of Yuan Zhen's umbrella was already more than a hundred 'zhang's to the north of the Temple, and then it turned to the left toward a small hill. Yuan Zhen climbed to the top of the hill with an exceptional speed
By this time Yuan Zhen was already around seventy years of age, but his agility was still extraordinary; during the ascend to the peak, the umbrella in his hand did not seem to sway at all. His movements were so smooth that it was as if someone was pulling him up with a rope.
Zhang Wuji quickly ran toward the foot of the hill. He was about to climb up when suddenly his eyes caught a glittering light by the mountain path; there was someone with open blade lying in ambush by the roadside, hastily he halted his step. After waiting for only a short moment, he saw from the cluster of trees four people, three in the front and one in the back, came out and ran toward the peak. From a distant, Zhang Wuji saw there were several pine trees on the peak, but he did not see any buildings. He wondered where Xie Xun could be imprisoned.
After looking around for and not coming across any other people, he followed to the peak. The 'qing gong'skills of the four people ahead of him were excellent. He picked up speed until he was only about twenty 'zhang's behind them. In the darkness he could still see that among the four, one was a woman, the other three were men, all of them wearing regular clothes. He thought, "Most likely these four came to give my Yifu some trouble. I'll let them fight a life and death battle against Yuan Zhen first. There is no hurry for me to interfere."
Arriving at the peak, the four people picked up their speed. Suddenly Zhang Wuji recognized two of them, "Ah, those two are Kunlun Pai's He Taichong and Ban Shuxian, husband and wife."
He heard Yuan Zhen let out a long and fierce cry, turn around abruptly, and dash back down the hill. Immediately Zhang Wuji dove down and hid among the grass by the roadside. He crawled several 'zhang's to the left and heard the ringing noise of clashing weapons, as Yuan Zhen and the newcomers had begun to fight.
From the sound of the clashing weapons, it sounded like only two people were fighting Yuan Zhen. "The other two are not fighting," he mused, "Obviously, they proceed to the peak to find Yifu." Right away he crept faster among the thick patch of grass to the peak of the hill.
As he arrived at the peak, he only saw a bare stretch of flat land; there was no building, only three tall pine trees arranged in triangle, their branches looked like soaring dragon, reaching up to the sky. He felt strange, "Could it be that Yifu is not being held here?" he thought.
He heard some rustling noise coming from the underbrush on his right, as someone was creeping along; followed by Ban Shuxian's voice, "Move quickly, our two Shidi's may not necessarily able to hold that Shaolin monk."
"That's right," He Taichong replied. Two people rose up and charged toward the three pine trees.
Zhang Wuji was afraid Xie Xun was really around here, so he did not dare to act rashly; he crawled forward among the thick grass. Suddenly he heard He Taichong exclaim, 'Hey!', as if he was hurt. Raising his head, he saw that He Taichong was standing among the pine trees, brandishing his sword fiercely like he was fighting with somebody, but actually no one else was visible. He only heard occasional 'bang, bang, bang', as if He Taichong's sword was colliding with some strange weapon. Zhang Wuji was even more perplexed. He crawled several steps forward and focused his eyes to have a closer look; he could not help but gasp in shock.
It turned out that the trunks of the two pine trees diametrically opposite to him were hollow. The cavities' size was just enough to accommodate one person. In each cavity sat an old monk, each monk held a black long rope in his hand, with which they were attacking He Taichong, husband and wife. The third three was right in front of Zhang Wuji. A black long rope also came out from this tree, so he knew that this tree also had an old monk inside its trunk.
In the dark night, the three black ropes did not reflect any light, hence, they were almost invisible in their movements. He Taichong, husband and wife, anxiously brandished their swords in tight defense. But because they could not see the direction of the enemies' weapons, they did not have the leeway to launch any counterattack. These three long ropes appeared to move slowly, but in reality they were very fast, yet they did not create any wind at all. Under the heavy rain, in the middle of the night, on a lone hill peak, the three ropes moved like ghosts or as if by magic; it was unspeakably weird.
Mr. and Mrs. He repeatedly shouted their frustrations. They tried to get away from the encirclement these trees, but each time they charged outward, the ropes would always push them back in. Zhang Wuji was secretly amazed; these ropes moved noiselessly, the people who drove them must have had profound internal energy, clear, pure and without any ruggedness in its utilization, might not be inferior to his own. He was astonished. "Yuan Zhen said that Yifu is being guarded by his three Tai Shishu [grand martial uncles]; obviously, they are these three old monks. Their power is extremely profound!"
"Ah!" suddenly he heard a miserable cry, as He Taichong's back was hit by the rope and was thrown out from the encirclement; his life was gone right away.
Ban Shuxian was shocked and saddened. While she is losing her concentration ever so slightly, the three ropes struck together to burst her skull and break her four limbs, making her lose her human form. One of the black ropes shook and threw Ban Shuxian's corpse out from the encirclement.
Yuan Zhen was fighting and stepping backwards, luring his opponents toward the peak. "Come!" he called out, "You dare to come here, receive your death."
Although his two opponents were Kunlun Pai's masters, with his level of martial art skill, Yuan Zhen would not necessarily lose, but it would be difficult to kill both of them at once. At best he would be able to injure only one of them, and then the other one would unavoidably escape. Therefore, he led them toward the pine trees.
The two of them were still several 'zhang's away from the trees, when suddenly they saw He Taichong's body. They both halted their steps, and in that split second, two long ropes came noiselessly from behind their heads and wound around their waists. The ropes jerked, and two people were thrown down from the peak, which was more than a hundred 'zhang's tall. Needless to say, they died as soon as their bodies struck the foot of the hill, but they cried out wretchedly when they were still midair, and the echo of their cry was still heard even after they were dead.
In a short moment the three old monks had killed four masters of Kunlun Pai. They were able to lift heavy objects as if they were very light, and accomplished the task with ease; the level of their martial art skill was rarely seen. Zhang Wuji believed they were superior to Lu Zhangke and He Biweng, although not as good as Tai Shifu [grand master] Zhang Sanfeng, whose skill was immeasurably deep; but they had definitely reached the boundary of divinity. Shaolin Pai unexpectedly still had this kind of old expert, perhaps even Tai Shifu and Yang Xiao were not aware of it. His heart was beating fast; he crouched down in the thick grass and did not dare to make the slightest movement.
He saw Yuan Zhen kick twice in succession, sending the bodies of He Taichong and Ban Shuxian into the deep valley below. As the corpses fell, it was a moment later that they heard two dull thuds as the bodies crashed into the bottom of the valley. Zhang Wuji mused, "He Taichong repaid my kindness with evil. Today he came here to harm my Yifu and steal the precious saber away; his conduct was despicable. But he was a martial art master, truly an expert in the martial art study, and a leader of his school. I did not expect for him to end his life this way."
He heard Yuan Zhen respectfully say, "Three Tai Shishu's divine skill is truly matchless; just by raising your hands, you have killed four masters of the Kunlun Pai. Yuan Zhen's respect is endless. Words truly cannot express it."
"Humph," one of the old monks snorted, but did not say anything.
Yuan Zhen continued, "Yuan Zhen received Fangzhang Shishu's [abbot martial uncle] order to come and wish three Tai Shishu well, and also to talk with the prisoner."
One raspy voice said, "Kong Jian Shizhi [martial nephew] was very virtuous and highly skilled. The three of us are very fond of him. We were hoping he would develop Shaolin's martial art study. It was unfortunate that his life was lost in this villain's hands. The three of us have lived in seclusion for decades and for a long time did not encumber ourselves with the mundane affairs of this world; yet because of Kong Jian Shizhi we came to this hill peak. This criminal is worthy of death for his many sins. One chop of the blade will take his life away. Why should you waste your breath and disturb our peaceful meditation?"
Yuan Zhen bowed respectfully and said, "Tai Shishu's instruction is right. However, Fangzhang Shishu also said, my En Shi [benevolent master] was harmed by this villain, but what kind of martial art my En Shi possessed? How could this villain, alone, have the power to injure him? For that reason, we imprison him here and trouble three Tai Shishu to guard him. First, to lure his comrades to come and save him; we hope to destroy the enemies who help him harm my En Shi one by one. Second, we want him to hand over the precious Tulong Saber, so it won't fall into other sect's hands, and thus usurp our position as the most revered in the Wulin world, which we have held for thousands of years."
Listening to this point, Zhang Wuji could not help but gnash his teeth in anger. He mused, "This evil thief Yuan Zhen truly deserves to be cut in pieces for all his crimes. His words are sweet but poisonous. He persuaded these three monks, who have lived in seclusion for decades, to come out, and borrow their hands to slaughter the martial art masters of the Wulin world."
"Hmm," he heard one of the old monk said, "You can speak with him."
By this time, the heavy rain had not stopped, thunders were still rumbling incessantly. Yuan Zhen walked toward the center of the triangle and kneeled on the ground. "Xie Xun," he said toward the ground, "Have you thought about it? You only need to say where you keep the Tulong Saber, I will let you go."
Zhang Wuji felt strange, "Why did he speak to the ground?" he thought, "Could it be there is some kind of dungeon down there, and my Yifu is held captive in it?"
Suddenly, with a loud and clear voice one of the old monks said angrily, "Yuan Zhen, Buddhist monks [orig. chu1 jia1 ren2 – people who leave their homes] do not tell lies. Why do you deceive him? If he did tell you the place where he hid the Saber, would you really let him go?"
"Tai Shishu, please understand," Yuan Zhen replied, "Disciple thinks that my En Shi's enmity is deep, yet if we consider it carefully, our Sect's prestige is more important. If he would tell us the precious Saber's whereabouts for our Sect to obtain it, then we would let him go. After three years, disciple will find him to avenge my En Shi."
"So be it," the old monk said, "In the Wulin world, good faith is of priority. Our words are like arrows. Even toward big criminals or the most evil people, Shaolin disciples should not break our promise."
"Respectfully received Tai Shishu's instruction," Yuan Zhen said.
Zhang Wuji thought, "These three Shaolin monks not only possess outstanding martial art skill, they are also virtuous eminent monks; too bad they unconsciously fell into Yuan Zhen's sinister plot."
He heard Yuan Zhen shout to the ground again, "Xie Xun, did you hear my Tai Shishu? Three Seniors have agreed to let you go."
Suddenly from underground came the reply, "Cheng Kun, do you still have a face to talk to me?"
As Zhang Wuji heard this heroic, but bleak voice, which he recognized as his Yifu's voice, his heart was shaken. He fought the strong urge to dash forward, kill Cheng Kun and rescue Xie Xun, knowing that as soon as his presence was detected, three Shaolin eminent monks' black ropes would immediately strike him. Even without Cheng Kun joining the fight, he knew he could not match the collaboration of these three monks. He thought, "I will wait for that evil monk Yuan Zhen to go, then I will step forward to pay my respect to the three monks. Then I will explain the entire complicated story. They are enlightened Buddhists, they must know how to tell right from wrong."
"Xie Xun," he heard Yuan Zhen say with a sigh, "You and I are old, why do you still painfully hang on to those past events? At most in twenty more years, you and I both will return to the yellow earth. I know I have wronged you, but I have also done you some good. Let the matter of the past go."
As he was rambling on, Xie Xun did not pay him any attention. He simply waited until he was done speaking, then he said, "Cheng Kun, do you still have a face to talk to me?"
Yuan Zhen talked repeatedly for half a day, but the answer was always, "Cheng Kun, do you still have a face to talk to me?"
Yuan Zhen coldly laughed and said, "I give you three days to think it over. After three days, if you still do not want to tell the Tulong Saber's whereabouts, you know with what method I will deal with you." As he said that, he stood up, paid his respect to the three monks, and walked down the hill.
Zhang Wuji waited until he walked far. He was about to arise to greet the three monks when suddenly he felt something different on the air around him. This sneak attack did not have the least bit of forewarning. He was shocked and immediately rolled away, while feeling two long objects from above of his face coming horizontally across, perhaps no more than half a foot in front of his face. It was a swift and marvelous attack, but did not carry the least bit of wind. These objects were precisely the long black ropes.
As he rolled a little more than a 'zhang' away, another black rope was pointing toward his chest. This black rope was as straight as a lance or a staff, coming fast to pierce his body. At the same time, the other two ropes wound around from behind him.
Only a moment ago he had seen four masters of Kunlun Pai, in short succession, lost their lives under these three black ropes. So he knew that these strange weapons were very fierce. Feeling the danger he was facing at this precise moment, he was even more shocked.
Flipping his left hand, he caught the black rope piercing his chest, thinking he would fling it to the side. But suddenly the rope shook and a whiff of mountain-moving, ocean-stirring internal energy attacked the pit of his stomach. If this attack hit its target, all his ribs would be broken and his five internal organs would be crushed.
In the time of split seconds, Zhang Wuji moved his right hand to the back, warding off the two black ropes threatening his back, while his left hand launched the Qian Kun Da Nuo Yi, backed by Jiu Yang Shen Gong. One hand pulled the other pushed and he let his body follow the force. With a 'whiz!' he flew up to the sky.
Right that moment, three, four flashes of lightning lit up the sky. Two of the eminent monks grunted, as if they were amazed at his martial art skill. These lightning illuminated Zhang Wuji. Three eminent monks lifted up their heads, only to see that the martial art master whose skill had reached the pinnacle of perfection was actually a peasant young man with a filthy face. They were even more surprised.
Three black ropes flew up menacingly like three black dragons, aiming Zhang Wuji from three different directions. Taking advantage of the lightning, Zhang Wuji looked down to see clearly the three monks' appearances. The one sitting on the northeast corner had a black face, as black as the bottom of a wok. The one on the northeast corner had a sickly yellowish face, the same color of a dry wood. The monk sitting on the south had a deathly pale, paper-white face. All three monks had deep cheeks. They were so thin that it looked as if they did not have any flesh on their bodies. The yellow-faced monk only had one eye. The five eyes of the three old monks sparkled under the lightning so that they looked even more mysterious.
As he saw the three black ropes curling toward the upper part of his body, Zhang Wuji pushed to the left and reached to the right. One hand swept, the other tangled as he borrowed these three monks' forces to wind the three black ropes together. This move was based on Wudang Pai's Taiji technique, which he learned from Zhang Sanfeng. The force was like a vortex, the three black ropes were wound into one.
The lightning flashed, the thunder rumbled continuously; the Heaven was showing off its soul-shaking power. Zhang Wuji made several somersaults midair, before his left foot landed on a pine-tree branch. As he steadied his footing, in between the crashing thunder he said in a clear voice, "Junior [orig. hou4 xue2 wan3 bei4 – younger generation who studied later] Ming Jiao Jiao Zhu [the Ming Cult's Cult Leader] Zhang Wuji, pays his respect to three eminent monks."
His left foot was treading on the tree branch, his right foot high up in the sky, while he bowed in respect. As he bowed down, the pine-tree branch followed his movement, bobbing up and down slightly like a wave. Zhang Wuji stood steadily, his body appeared graceful. Although he was bowing down, he was up on the tree looking down, so he did not degrade his position.
As the three monks felt their ropes were wound up by Zhang Wuji's internal energy, they shook their hands and the ropes separated. In this short exchange, the three monks had used the three different stances of nine different styles [san1 zhao1 jiu4 shi4]; each style concealed dozens of variations, dozens of killer moves. Who would have thought that each one of these three stances of nine styles was warded off by the opponent? Each style was extremely dangerous. If the opponent missed even a fraction of a hair width, his flesh would be crushed and his bones broken, he would die a violent death. However, Zhang Wuji appeared to stay composed, as if he was crossing a ravine like flat ground. The three eminent monks had never faced this kind of superior opponent. No wonder they were very amazed.
They actually did not know that to neutralize these three stances of nine styles, Zhang Wuji was forced to exhaust his entire strength. So as he was standing on the fluctuating pine-tree branch, he took the opportunity to regulate the troubled internal energy [orig. zhen1 qi4 – genuine breath] in his 'dan tian' [pubic region].
The martial arts Zhang Wuji used just now consisted of Jiu Yang Shen Gong, Qian Kun Da Nuo Yi, and Taiji Quan, three major divine skills, but for the final somersault in midair, he used the technique he learned from the engraving of the Sheng Huo Ling.
Although the three Shaolin eminent monks possessed unique skill in martial arts, they had been living in seclusion for decades; they did not follow the human affairs. Obviously, they had never seen even one of these four martial arts. They vaguely felt, however, that his internal energy was somewhat similar to Shaolin Jiu Yang energy, yet it also felt far superior to Shaolin's divine energy in a subtle way. As they heard him introducing his own name, who was unexpectedly the Cult Leader of the Ming Cult, the admiration and surprise they felt earlier immediately turned into rage.
The old monk with deathly-pale face spitefully said, "Lao Na [lit. old cassock – referring to self] was wondering which martial art expert descended down to pay us a visit; turns out it is the big devil head of the Devil Cult. Lao Na, three brothers, have shut ourselves up for dozens of years, ignoring the mundane affairs of this world. Even our own Sect's important business usually eludes our attention. Today by chance we get to meet the Devil Cult's leader; that is truly the good fortune we couldn't even hope for in our lifetimes."
To hear him mentioning the words 'devil head' and 'Devil Cult' left and right, it was obvious to Zhang Wuji that they bore a very deep grievance against his Cult; he could not help hesitate greatly, and was at a loss as how to reply.
He heard the yellow-faced monk with one eye say, "The Jiaozhu of the Devil Cult is Yang Dingtian!
How can it be Sire?"
"Yang Jiaozhu has passed away almost thirty years ago," Zhang Wuji replied.
"Ah!" the yellow-faced old monk exclaimed, but did not say anything. He sounded shocked, as if he was utterly crushed and broken-hearted.
Zhang Wuji thought, "He looks exceedingly grieved to hear about Yang Jiaozhu's death. His friendship with Yang Jiaozhu in the past must be very deep. Yifu was Yang Jiaozhu's subordinate. Perhaps I can bring up the old friendship and then tell them how Yuan Zhen bore a deep hatred toward Yang Jiaozhu, and I'll see what happen." Thereupon he said, "Da Shi [reverend – grand master] must have known Yang Jiaozhu then?"
"Of course I do," the yellow-faced old monk replied, "If Lao Na did not know the great hero [the word here is 'da ying xiong'] Yang Dingtian, how could I turn into a one-eyed man? Why would we, three martial brothers, have to sit in suffering for more than thirty years?"
He said those words matter-of-factly, but the extreme pain and deep hatred behind those words were obvious. Zhang Wuji groaned inwardly, "Bad! It's bad!" He understood that this old monk's eye went bad under Yang Dingtian's hands, so the three martial brothers lived in seclusion for the last thirty years of their lives, making a painstaking effort, was to avenge this enmity. No wonder they were greatly disappointed to hear the death of their archenemy.