Chapter Twenty-One: The Vajra of Kunlun

The woman removed her hooded hat, revealing a cascade of silver hair dancing lightly in the evening breeze. She spoke softly, “Impersonating an old lady? I like the sound of that. But if you dare call me an old lady, I’ll kill you on the spot to set an example! Well then, for tonight’s sake, even if everyone here dies, I’ll at least let you die with less pain.”

Master Yuanhui burst out angrily, “White Snake, you shameless wretch! How dare you speak so arrogantly! Do you think there are no heroes in Jiangnan’s martial world?” Yan Fengjiao remained unruffled, unhurriedly unfastening her gauze robe. Muller hurried to catch it, folding it carefully before passing it to a sturdy servant. Though his hands were rough and clumsy, he dared not be negligent in such a task.

The White Snake, Yan Fengjiao, swept her long hair back and laughed charmingly. “In our contest of martial arts all those years ago, you had the slight advantage. But now, you’ve been promoted to abbot of the Vanquishing Demons Monastery, living a life of comfort. I fear your skills have withered. Meanwhile, I have risen before dawn each day, never wasting a moment, and with Master Hua’s complete instruction in the peerless K’ungtung sect swordsmanship. As the saying goes, ‘Three days apart, one must look anew.’ What do you say?”

As the crowd heard that the swordsman was indeed the Ghost Sword Han Qinghua, they recoiled in shock, pressing close to Yuanhui. Yan Fengjiao could not help but laugh, “If Mr. Zhu does not hand over the Sacred Armor tonight, none present will escape intact. Where do you think you can run?”

Yuanhui had grown accustomed to peaceful days, long forsaking martial practice for Buddhist study. With daily meditation and discourse on Zen, his martial prowess was a mere shadow of its former self. After Yan Fengjiao’s words, he felt his confidence falter. Glancing around, he saw that most present were second- or third-rate fighters. Of those who could match the White Snake, only Abbess Hongyun of the Lotus Sect and Xu Qianfan remained. Yet he and Abbess Hongyun had always been at odds, and she might not join forces with him; meanwhile, his friendly ally Xu Qianfan was absent.

Fortunately, years of cultivation had left his mind resolute. Though terrified within, he kept a calm exterior and shouted, “Don’t listen to the demon’s deceit! Against such fiends, there’s no need for martial etiquette. Abbess Hongyun and Xiang Lianfu, deal with the Golden Vajra of Kunlun. Master Liu, Daoist Huang Song, and the monks of Vanquishing Demons Monastery, face this witch! The rest of you, handle her lackeys. Shoulder to shoulder, advance!”

With these words, he swung his steel staff and charged forward. The monks behind him brandished their iron staves, forming the great Demon-Subduing Formation and surrounding Yan Fengjiao. Master Liu and Daoist Huang circled the periphery, waiting for their chance. Within the flurry of staves, Yan Fengjiao moved with effortless grace.

The demon-subduing formation of Guizhou’s Vanquishing Demons Monastery was intended for eighteen staff monks, forming an unbreakable net. But Yuanhui had not anticipated such formidable foes, thinking they were mere bandits who would flee at his name. Thus, he had brought only nine disciples, and the formation was hastily assembled. He regretted his miscalculation bitterly.

Death-Pen Brush Liu, sensing an opening, lunged at Yan Fengjiao’s back with his iron pen. Hearing the whistle of the weapon, she reversed her grip and seized his wrist, pulling him before her. At that moment, a monk’s iron staff came crashing down, splitting Liu’s skull open. Yan Fengjiao called sweetly, “Oh dear, Abbot Yuanhui, your disciple has killed a man!”

Daoist Huang Song, who had always been close to Liu, flew into a rage and slashed at Yan Fengjiao. She drew her snake-shaped sword, a flurry of silver light scattering toward him. From within the sheen, a red arrow shot forth, and with a single stroke, she pierced Daoist Huang’s heart. Before his body could fall, several iron staves struck, pulverizing his corpse. Having slain two men, Yan Fengjiao’s attire remained spotless, unstained by a single drop of blood.

Meanwhile, the crowd surged toward the eight sturdy servants guarding the door, thinking themselves lucky. These men looked burly but surely couldn’t stand against martial heroes—wouldn’t it be like slicing melons? To their shock, the eight servants drew repeating crossbows from beneath their cloaks. The twang of bowstrings released a rain of bolts. The crowd, packed at the doorway, had nowhere to dodge. Their weapons, caught in the press, were useless for defense. Each trigger pull loosed eight steel bolts; after firing, the servants would brace the bow with their feet and reload, slotting more bolts into the groove with practiced speed. Wave after wave of deadly arrows fell, and the hapless fighters were turned to pin-cushions before they could even reach their foes. Those lucky enough not to be hit feigned death in doorways, not daring to move, while the eight servants stood ready, crossbows aimed, making no move to close in.

Zhu Shitian was terrified, shouting, “Eight-shot Iron-Spine Crossbows!” The White Snake Yan Fengjiao laughed, “Mr. Zhu, you’re truly knowledgeable. Even the prized weapon of the Protectorate of Anxi is familiar to you. Ah, that’s right—you were once the Loyal Martial General of the Left Cavalry Guard among the Sixteen Guards of the Southern Court, weren’t you, General Zhu? Or should I say General Li?”

Zhu Shitian replied gravely, “According to the Great Zhou’s laws, civilians who wield eight-shot iron-spine crossbows are guilty of treason! You dare use such weapons to massacre civilians—are you not afraid your entire clans will be executed?”

Yan Fengjiao, dodging the iron staves, laughed, “If we’re speaking of treason, I’m afraid General Li’s crimes are heavier.”

Upon hearing this, Yuanhui and the others despaired. Who could have guessed that Zhu Shitian, the magnate of Hengzhou, was an imperial general entangled in treason? Yuanhui, seasoned in the ways of the martial world, made up his mind: kill the White Snake and her followers quickly, then flee far from the martial world, perhaps thereby avoiding disaster.

On the other side, Abbess Hongyun had the same thought. She called her disciples and Xiang Lianfu to attack Muller. Muller’s weapon was a heavy spiked mace, swinging with ferocious power. The Lotus Sect’s swords were light and flexible, but as soon as they met his mace, they were flung skyward. Xiang Lianfu, knowing Muller’s strength, kept his distance, calling out from afar. Abbess Hongyun, relying on her profound inner strength, found an opportunity to hook his mace with her sword tip, circling it outward with a deft technique, and struck Muller’s chest with her palm. Muller braced himself and took the blow head-on; to her shock, his hide was like leather, his bones like iron—he did not budge.

Xiang Lianfu saw his chance, closing in to grapple with Muller. In years past, serving together at the Prince of Luling’s residence, they often wrestled for sport. He knew Muller’s strength well, but also that once engaged in close quarters, he had no answer for attacks at the flanks.

Unexpectedly, Muller laughed, “Master Xiang, still using the same trick?” As he spoke, he continued to fight—one hand wielding his mace against Abbess Hongyun, the other grappling Xiang Lianfu with astonishing dexterity, forcing him back out of range. Abbess Hongyun exclaimed in alarm, “He’s mastered even the K’ungtung Sect’s Night-Fighting Ape and Monkey Boxing! That fiend Han Qinghua taught him!”

The K’ungtung Sect was famed for its swordsmanship, but poor at close combat. Whenever they faced foes wielding daggers or short swords, they struggled if drawn into grappling. Sword Demon Wan Renshan, a master of the sect, once lay awake troubled by this flaw. One night, wandering by candlelight, he witnessed a troop of monkeys brawling in the treetops—agile and ferocious in the cramped space. Enlightened, he devised the Night-Fighting Ape and Monkey Boxing, specializing in close-quarters combat.

Xiang Lianfu, unaware of the key to this style, was struck full in the chest by Muller’s kick, spitting blood as he flew back, crashing into Abbess Hongyun. Before she could react, Muller brought his mace down in a crushing blow. In desperation, Abbess Hongyun raised her sword to block, but Muller’s might was overwhelming. The sword snapped; the mace fell, killing them both instantly. With her death, her disciples panicked. Muller strode among them, swinging his mace; the delicate maidens stood no chance and fell in moments. Those who managed to escape the mace ran for the door but were cut down by bolts from the servants’ crossbows, perishing tragically.

Muller strode forward, stretching out his fan-like hand before Zhu Shitian. “General Li, hand over the Sacred Armor!”