Chapter Twenty-Three: Teaching the Wicked Monk a Lesson

Grass Sage Sword!

This was, of course, the sword technique comprehended from Pei Min’s insight into the wild cursive script when he met Zhang Xu. Pei Min had never been particular about naming his sword moves and had simply given this one a casual name. Now, as he performed it for the first time, a single stroke rescued Sun Pu from the hands of a group of monks, filling him with confidence. Surrounded and beset by nine opponents, he remained utterly unafraid.

The Grass Sage Sword was different from the swordplay Pei Min had taught himself in the past, and quite unlike the subtle intricacies of the Yue Maiden’s Sword Technique. The Grass Sage Sword was grand and unrestrained, carrying the vigor of the Yangtze and Yellow Rivers. As his sword swept forth, it was like a mighty wave crashing against stone; under the shimmering blue light of the blade, he seized the initiative, launching swift attacks, his sword flashing like lightning, and with the very first movement, he wounded one of his foes. Another monk slashed at him with a saber from behind, but Pei Min spun around and countered. When blade met sword, the monk felt a tremor in his palm as if the saber would be wrenched from his grip.

The monk wondered in shock, “How can this young man possess such strength?” Before the thought had fully formed, he felt a sword pierce his shoulder. Terrified, he hastily withdrew. In truth, it was not that Pei Min’s strength was overwhelming, but that his force was precise. Well aware that brute strength was not his forte, whenever weapons clashed, he always used the strongest point of his sword to strike at the weakest spot of his opponent’s weapon.

Pei Min did not pursue. By now, the monks before him and to his left and right, brandishing swords, sabers, and staves, had already closed in.

Not far off, Sun Pu could see the situation more clearly. Aside from the attacks to the front and sides, three more sabers were slashing toward Pei Min from behind, each from a cunning angle and with deadly speed. The monks had formed an encirclement almost instantly. Before Sun Pu could even cry out a warning, he saw that Pei Min had already responded.

Had this been the Pei Min who first broke into Maple Leaf Court, he would surely have struggled against such an onslaught. But after the fierce battle of the other day, and having gained new understanding from Zhang Xu’s wild cursive script, Pei Min’s swordsmanship had advanced tremendously. With a sudden reverse sweep of the Autumn Water Sword, a rapid succession of clashes rang out as the incoming sabers from behind were all knocked aside.

At the same time, the assault from the front arrived. Pei Min’s counterattack was perfectly timed; almost simultaneously, he used the scabbard to deflect three deadly blows before him. Without pausing, his body surged forward, the sword hilt striking the side of the monk to his left as he brushed past. With a crack of breaking bone, that monk staggered aside, colliding with another who was attacking from the flank. Both tumbled to the ground.

Pei Min had broken through the encirclement, but instead of fleeing, he turned and attacked the enemies who had been on his right. The Grass Sage Sword struck again, overwhelming his foes; the Autumn Water Sword flashed like lightning, cleaving a saber aside so that it crashed into another monk, wounding them both in their confusion.

In the brief span of a cup of tea, Pei Min had not only broken the combined assault of nine monks but had wounded four, knocked down another, and, adding in the very first to fall, had injured or felled seven out of the ten fierce monks with ease.

The three remaining monks exchanged shocked glances, fear in their eyes, none daring to advance.

Pei Min feinted as if to charge at the three, and the moment he moved, they retreated several steps in panic.

Seeing Pei Min merely testing them, four of the monks flushed with embarrassment.

A tall monk mustered his courage and stepped forward, “May I ask, hero, from whence you hail, and why you oppose our Sacred Virtue Temple…”

Pei Min only laughed heartily. “Ha! So you still try to invoke the name of Sacred Virtue Temple? I’m here to teach a lesson to you thieving, unclean monks!” With that, his sword flashed again. The tall monk was already intimidated; in his flustered state, he could not withstand a single exchange and was struck twice more.

The others dared not utter another word and fled as if facing a mortal enemy.

Turning, Pei Min pulled Sun Pu onto his horse and rode quickly out of Longevity Lane. The monks, accustomed to wielding power, were helpless when confronted with someone even more formidable. Stunned and at a loss, none dared give chase.

Once clear of Longevity Lane, and certain the monks weren’t pursuing, Pei Min asked, “Where is Jade Truth Abbey? Daoist Liu asked me to tell you to go there and seek out Ye Fashan. Those villainous monks are powerful; I’ll take you there myself.”

Sun Pu did not answer but asked in return, “What about Uncle Liu? Where is he? Is he in danger? Didn’t he go to treat Master Huifan? What is really going on?”

Huifan!

At the mention of this name, everything became clear to Pei Min. No wonder those villainous monks were so arrogant—they were Huifan’s men.

Huifan was a foreign monk, a Westerner, and a trusted confidant of Princess Taiping. Rumor had it that there was something between them, and whether or not that was true, Huifan was certainly a key figure in her camp, with considerable influence. Judging by the current situation, he must be the abbot or similar figure at Sacred Virtue Temple, surrounded by a band of wicked monks.

Pei Min hadn’t expected to become entangled with Princess Taiping so soon, but he felt no fear. On the contrary, he was a little excited: if he could not meet Empress Wu, the greatest female ruler, then meeting the princess who stood on par with her would be the next best thing.

As for Sun Pu’s questions, he replied offhandedly, “How should I know? Daoist Liu is hale and hearty; even men in their thirties and forties can’t outrun him. For those villainous monks to catch him would be no easy feat. You should worry about yourself. If not for me today, had you fallen into Huifan’s hands, Daoist Liu would surely have had no leverage.”

Hearing this, Sun Pu calmed down and told him where Jade Truth Abbey was.

Jade Truth Abbey was situated on the western side of the imperial city, built by the retired Emperor Li Dan for his daughter Princess Jade Truth, Li Chiying. It was famed throughout Chang’an. Only someone like Pei Min, a newcomer to the city, would not know its exact location.

As they headed north, bored along the way, Pei Min asked about Liu Shenwei’s age. The elderly Daoist, with his white hair and beard, had outpaced a group of vigorous young monks as if he were a seasoned hound, which left a deep impression on Pei Min.

Sun Pu frowned, “I don’t quite remember—was it eighty-six or eighty-eight?”

Pei Min was speechless. “That elder is truly robust—more so than Huang Hansheng himself.”

Sun Pu replied, “My grandfather is even more impressive. At one hundred and five, he can still carry water up the mountain. People around Zhongnan Mountain call him the Immortal Elder.”

Pei Min was again at a loss. Compared to Sun Simiao, who lived to over a hundred and sixty, Liu Shenwei’s eighty-six or eighty-eight seemed unremarkable.

“If I didn’t know for certain that there was no elixir of immortality in the world, I’d suspect they had taken it,” Pei Min mused.

Sun Pu laughed. “Uncle Liu once told me that both Emperor Taizong and Emperor Gaozong asked my grandfather whether there truly was an elixir of immortality. My grandfather said that if such a thing existed, there would only ever have been one emperor—the First Emperor of Qin. Their longevity comes from the arts of health and preservation, nothing more.”