Devil Fist & Tiger Whiskers
Bai Feng, Yongan and Yongle arrived in the company of fifty retainers and servants. Behind them was a small train of wagons containing the group’s belongings. The tournament ground came into view, a wide open field dominated by a massive two tier wooden platform. The ground at the base of the platform had been sectioned off by ropes into a checker board of squares. It was in these squares that the tournament will take place, with only the final four combatants being allowed to fight on the platform itself. This was the only to conduct the tournament on a practical level, for the participants numbered in their hundreds, from heads of powerful schools and families, to wondering warriors eager to try their luck.
A small city of tents had sprung up around the tournament ground to house the participants and their entourages. An area had been reserved for Bai Feng and was suitably large enough for his group. Mu Kong himself greeted them on their arrival. The priest and Bai Feng exchange greetings, then the latter nodded to Yongle who turned and walked towards the lead wagon in their train. Yongle entered the wagon briefly, then re-emerged carrying the plaque of the Grand Patriarch which was covered by a sheet of purple silk. Yongle handed the plaque reverently to the priest and Mu Kong received it with equal respect. Later, at the appointed hour the priest will place the plaque on the upper level of the platform, signalling the beginning of the tournament.
With the task of delivering the plaque completed, Bai Feng and his group followed an acolyte of Mu Kong’s to the area that had been designate for them. There they will pitch their tents and make read for the gruelling fights that were to come.
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Dozens of camp fires burnt with the smell of roasting meat and strong wine rising into the night sky. Tomorrow the tournament will start but tonight everyone feasted in a celebration to comradeship. Bai Feng and his family sat around a low table, filled to bursting with food and wine. Accompanying them were Lin Jan, his daughter and Guild Master Dao San. Their group was situated on the east side of the tournament ground, as far away as possible from the Yee-man family who were feasting on the west side. So far the atmosphere had been joyous and Mu Kong, as overseer of the event, was determined to keep it so.
There was a commotion at the far end of the tournament ground and a large group of men started making their way to the base of the platform. Quiet descended as the standard of the Emperor became visible, declaring the new arrivals as emissaries of the Imperial Court. Everyone started gathering around the royal envoys, with Bai Feng, Yee-man Zhan, Mu Kong, Lin Jan and Dao San making their way to the front. First Minister Guo was at the head of the royal party, dressed in formal robes of his office, showing the seriousness of the visit. Holding up a golden scroll bearing the Emperor’s order, the minister waited for the gathered Martial Artists to fall to their knees, which they duly did. Unrolling the scroll the minister read its content in a clear powerful voice:
“By the will of Heaven and the order of the Emperor.
His Majesty gives his blessing to this tournament, knowing that all whom have gathered to participate are brave and honourable subjects of his realm.
His Majesty wishes everyone good fortune in the coming tournament.
Yet to his Majesty’s grief there is an unpleasant matter that must be attended to. Yee-man Zhan, whose neglect in discipling his son has caused much concern to his Majesty. As such, with great regret his Majesty has decreed that from this day on the hereditary title of Count will be stripped from the Yee-man family and Yee-man Zhan is to return the green jade sceptre recently gifted to him.
So it is ordered.”
Silence stretched on for several uncomfortable moments, everyone waiting for Yee-man Zhan to respond. The head of the Yee-man family shook with rage and slowly raised his head. He looked at the smirking face of Minister Guo, who was gloating in satisfaction at having gained his revenge. Yee-man Zhan wanted to bury his sword into the man’s chest. Using every ounce of self control that he possessed, Yee-man Zhan accepted the royal order reverently in both hands, then rose to lead the imperial party to his tent to retrieve the jade sceptre.
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Bai Feng’s heart went out to his opponent. The man was of the same age as his nephews and was shaking so badly that it looked like he would drop his sword. Bai Feng could guess how intimidating it was for the man, who was facing a living legend and Bai Feng was tempted to give him a reassuring smile, but decided against it for fear of frightening the man further. The referee, an acolyte of Tie Lin monastery signalled for the fight to begin. Bai Feng waited patiently, his posture relaxed but ready. Raising his sword his opponent advanced cautiously, the knuckles of his sword hand turning white as he gripped the sword hilt.
The young man attacked hesitantly and Bai Feng stepped away from the blow easily. He let his opponent attack a few more times, avoiding every blow with a simple step or a turning of his body, not bothering to parry or block the increasingly desperate attacks. When he was sure that his opponent had given a good account of himself Bai Feng ended the fight. Swiftly he grabbed the man’s wrist as he attempted a clumsy thrust, then with a sharp twist made him drop the sword before kicking the blade away. Letting go of the unarmed man, Bai Feng took a step back and accepted the man’s salute, signalling his resignation from the contest. Bai Feng gave the young man a pat on the shoulder, then turned to the referee who gave Bai Feng a nod making his victory official.
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Yee-man Zhan struck fast and hard, his open hand slamming into his opponents jaw, before the man even had a chance to draw his sword. He felt bone break under his fingers and watched with satisfaction as the man flew out of the square. Having been shamed by the Emperor, Yee-man Zhan was more determined than ever to win the position of Grand Patriarch. In his eyes, the man in front of him was no more than an insect in his way to regaining his honour and he would crush him and all those like him mercilessly. He turned to face the acolyte overseeing the fight. The priest took a frightened step back from Yee-man Zhan’s intense glare, then nodded his head affirming the victory.
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Yongan walked into woods, the lantern in his hand clearly illuminating his way. Up ahead another lantern shone brightly and as Yongan got closer the lovely form of Yee-man Yin revealed itself. Yongan stopped a respectful distance away from his friend and gave her a polite bow:
“Lady Yee-man.” he greeted.
“Young sir Yip.” she replied.
“Lady Yee-man, I am sorry for what has happened between our families.”
“I understand why your brother did what he did. As a woman I can even say my brother deserves what hapened. But he is still my brother and it hurts my heart to see him like this.”
“Please believe me, I never wanted to do anything that would hurt you.”
“I do and I hold no ill will towards you. However I cannot continue a friendship with someone involved in the maiming of my brother.”
Yongan could not speak. Her words struck him like hammer blow and his mind wheeled from the shock. He watched in silence as she turned and stared walking away. Panic gripped his heart and he took a step forward. His arm stretched out desperate to hold onto her. But suddenly he stopped, his heart hesitating in doubt. How would she react if he did reach out to her? Was he really sure of her feelings for him? Was he even sure of his own feelings for her? As he struggled with his doubt Yee-man Yin continued to walk away never turning back even once. As she disappeared into the night Yongan felt a part of his heart go with her.
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Bai Feng’s progression through the tournament went the same way as his initial fight, with him defeating over twenty opponents without needing to use Tianzhen. Bai Feng had taken care to respect his opponents, allowing them the chance to demonstrate their various skills before defeating them. All were very competent, some had even surprised him and he took note of a few young fighters who he singled out as rising stars. Now on the eighth day of the tournament he faced his first serious opponent, Dao San.
Like Bai Feng the Guild Master had advanced smoothly in the tournament and they had both became two of the final four combatants, with the other two being Yee-man Zhan and Lin Jan as expected. Like before, the drawing of lots had determined the opponents and Bai Feng was secretly glad that he had been paired with Dao San. For it meant he would have the opportunity to observe Yee-man Zhan going up against a strong opponent, giving Bai Feng the chance to take note of his rivals strengths and more importantly weaknesses. Of course this would also give Yee-man Zhan the opportunity to do the same.
Bai Feng walked steadily up he stairs, taking care that his posture and movements remained confident. As a veteran warrior, Bai Feng knew the importance of entering a fight with the right airs, especially when facing someone of Dao San’s calibre. Both men stepped onto the platform at the same time and turned together to bow to Mu Kong, who would oversee the duel from his seat on a wooden tower beside the platform. Having paid respect to the judge the men then bowed to each other before taking defensive stances.
Bai Feng held Tianzhen vertically in front of him, left hand over right. His stance reflected his hands, with his right leg in front and raised onto its toes. Dao Sao held his jade cudgel in his right hand and to the side, his left arm held horizontally in front of him and slightly bent. Taking a long stance he resembled a large cat waiting to pounce. And pounce he did, hurtling towards his opponent in long strides. As he charged his foot steps became a blur, shifting with blinding speed. Dao San’s body reflected his footwork as he darted towards Bai Feng in a seemingly erratic line. When Dao San was less than a dozen steps away from his opponent, his movement became even faster creating two additional after images of him. All three figures appeared equally solid and it seemed that Bai Feng was doomed as there was no way for him to determine which of them was the true Dao San.
Bai Feng’s right foot stamped down and power rippled out. Dao San stumbled a step and the three figures became one. Tianzhen struck out, aimed at Dao San’s throat. Dodging to the right Dao San brought his cudgel down to smash open Bai Feng’s head. Dao San felt like he was striking the side of a mountain, as Bai Feng slid Tianzhen upwards to block the cudgel and Dao San had to anchor himself with his Qi, in order to prevent being flung into the air. With contact made the duel proceeded in earnest, with the echo of jade cudgel clashing with golden staff ringing across the field. Dao San’s technique was at the very pinnacle of martial arts, his attacks a flawless mix of fast and slow strikes, heavy as hammer when attacking and as light as a feather when evading, the jade cudgel seeming to attack from all directions at once.
Bai Feng’s style was much more simplistic, relying on only six moves, block, stab, slam, loop, hook and parry, but he executed each move with no less skill than his opponent. Back and forth the masters fought, exchanging more than two hundred exquisite strokes but still a victor could not be determined. Then as if by mutual consent both golden staff and jade cudgel stabbed out and clashed with a sound like a pair of massive stone hammers smashing together. The force of the impact sent both weapons flying from their wielders hands. Dao San reacted quickly, hurling out a flaming palm. Bai Feng met the fiery attack with his right fist, the force his punch snuffing out the flames and hurling Dao San backwards.
Landing at the edge of the platform, Dao San once more anchor himself to the floor in order to prevent himself from falling off. Spreading his arms out wide Dao San started channelling his Qi into his open palms. The air around his hands started heating up, surrounding them in a thin haze. Small yellow flames started flickering around the palms, then quickly enveloped the entirety of the hands. The fire intensified until they burnt a blinding white at which time Dao San took to the air and flew towards Bai Feng, his palms leaving a trail of flames like the tails of a pair of phoenixes. Bai Feng sank into a high horse stance and faced Dao San head on. Just as the flaming palms were about the strike him, Bai Feng flung both his fists out to meet the attack.
For a moment both combatants seemed locked within a bubble of suspended time, their movements slow, their hair and clothing floating around them, as powerful fists battled flaming palms. Conversely as the air around them became lighter, the floor below them became heavier and a great depression emerged around their feet. Then the bubble burst and normal time came rushing in. Dao San’s fiery palms were snuffed out and he was once more flung into the air, this time to be thrown clear off the platform. Landing lightly Dao San looked up at his vanquisher. Then throwing his head back, the Guild Master roared in laughter. On the platform Bai Feng stepped out of the crater and walking to the edge of the platform he joined in the good natured laughter.
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Yee-man Yin stared up in awe from her seat at the bottom of the platform. Never before had she seen such a display of raw power. The duel between Bai Feng and Dao San had revealed to her new possibilities in Martial Arts that she had never before contemplated. Turning to her father she saw Yee-man Zhan staring at the platform, his jaw drawn tight. Slowly his mouth opened a crack and he whispered the words ‘Devil’s Fists’:
“Father?” asked Yee-man Yin in concern.
Yee-man Zhan did not answer, but stiffly rose to his feet and stalked towards his tent.
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Yee-man Zhan walked up to the platform amongst a cloud of whispers. Forcing himself to ignore them Yee-man Zhan continued advancing at his unhurried pace. His public shaming by the Emperor had made him the laughingstock of the tournament, galvanising him to decimate every opponent who had dared face him. So far he had not needed to draw Taihui, for which he was grateful as he did not want to stain his noble blade with low born blood. Now he faced someone who was worthy of him drawing his sword.
Lin Jan stood before him, his grey scholar robes flowing gently in the breeze. His posture was alert but relaxed, his right hand stroking gently at his beard and his left hand resting lightly by his side. Yee-man Zhan felt a moment of shame as he met his opponent’s steady gaze, remember his son’s shameful act. Quashing the feeling savagely, Yee-man Zhan prepared himself for battle. The duellist performed the necessary signs of respect to Mu Kong and each other then took defensive stances. Yee-man Zhan drew Taihui in a flash of silver, unleashing a wave of murderous sword Qi at his opponent.
Stepping into the air Lin Jan floated above the wave and flew towards Yee-man Zhan. Lin Jan’s hand shot to his belt, then struck out with a bolt of black lightning. Raising Tailhui swiftly, Yee-man Zhan was barely able to block the blow, but was instantly assailed by three more, forcing him to back away parrying furiously as he went. Landing lightly Lin Jan held a thin black iron blade in his hand. Shaped like a bamboo cane, the blade had no edge but was tapered into a diamond point. This was Hu Zi (Tiger’s Whiskers), whose fame rivalled that of its illustrious owner. Taihui glowed brightly in response to its master’s indignation at having been forced back. Tightening his grip on the dazzling blade Yee-man Zhan charged.
Silver and black lightning flickered back and forth as the master swordsmen fought across the entirety of the platform. Not since Yip Manyou had Yee-man Zhan faced such a skilled master of the blade and he relished this battle. As the duel raged on Yee-man Zhan found himself pushed onto the defensive. For every attack he made, Lin Jan returned three, the lighter Hu Zi allowing him to strike much more swiftly than his opponent. Yee-man Zhan found himself being pushed slowly towards the edge of the platform and knew he had to do regain the initiative soon. He launched three quick strikes at Lin Jan. Swaying like a bamboo tree in the breeze, Lin Jan avoided the dazzling blade without breaking his momentum and continued pressing his attack.
Inch by inch Yee-man Zhan was forced closer to the edge of the platform, his increasingly desperate strikes easily avoided by Lin Jan, whose fluid movement made him as difficult to hit as a shadow. Feeling his back foot hover over the edge of the platform, Yee-man Zhan made a final throw of the dice. Taihui struck quickly at Lin Jan’s feet, the dazzling blade striking with viper speed. Lin Jan’s footwork was as elusive as his body and he danced away. Not wishing to give Yee-man Zhan the opportunity to strike back Lin Jan went right back on the offensive. As soon as he stepped forward his foot crashed through the wooden platform to the depth of his knee. In shock Lin Jan realised the trap Yee-man Zhan had laid for him.
The strikes had not been aimed at his feet, but at the platform below, weaken the wood so that it would collapse beneath him. Yee-man Zhan advanced on his stricken foe. Lin Jan raised Hu Zi, but the lighter blade was easily battered aside and he found the glittering tip of Taihui pressed against the spot between his eyes:
“Do you yield?” asked Yee-man Zhan.
“I yield” answered Lin Jan through gritted teeth.