Chapter Three: The Secluded Tianshan

Now, Ma Beifang, Li Chongyuan, and Huang Shan had all become orphans, with no home to return to. The middle-aged Taoist sighed, “Heaven is merciful. Since you have nowhere to go, come with me to Tianshan. If you can learn some skills, that would be best; at the very least, you’ll have food and clothing and need not worry.” It seemed this was indeed the best arrangement for them.

That middle-aged Taoist was a swordsman of the Tianshan Sect, his Taoist name Zi Wuzhuo, head of Mingxin Cave—the third of the seven main caves of Tianshan. The young Taoist was his foremost disciple, Li Jiu, a man of noble origin, though that name was only an alias. Li Jiu had joined Tianshan not to enter the martial world but to learn skills and escape calamity. This venture into the Central Plains was for an important matter, and on their return to the western region, they happened upon this incident. Acting in the spirit of chivalry, they lent a helping hand. Fate, it seemed, had its own designs, for this encounter would later stir up tempests of love and hate.

After a dozen days, the group entered the western regions. Here, the sky was high and the emperor far away; it was the Tianshan Sect’s territory, and they feared no pursuers. Their spirits gradually relaxed. Though the three children had just suffered the grief of losing their families, they were still young, and with time, their sorrow eased. Li Chongyuan had thought to beg Zi Wuzhuo and his disciple to take him to the Anxi Protectorate, but then reconsidered. What would change upon arrival? He would still be dependent on others. Should he, by chance, encounter another deadly foe, who would save him then? It would be better to go to Tianshan, master true skills, and become self-reliant. With this decision made, he never again mentioned the Anxi Protectorate.

That day, at the Tianshan Sect’s main hall, within the first of the seven great caves—Langya Hall—the heads of each cave had gathered. The abbot presided, and the elders were all in attendance. The disciples, dressed in mountain robes, stood in orderly rows. The main hall was solemn and grand, the walls adorned with murals of legendary battles, the air heavy with the scent of incense. The three children knelt before the assembly, gazing up with anxious eyes.

Master Dunan said, “These three have come to Tianshan by the will of Heaven—fate has led them here. Since they have entered our gate, it is our duty to teach and guide them. Which of my brothers would be willing to take them as disciples?”

Ma Beifang, born into a family of martial artists, had only learned the basics, but his bones were extraordinary—a rare and promising seedling. Naturally, the elders’ eyes were drawn to him. Li Chongyuan and Huang Shan, by comparison, seemed ordinary.

The head of the seventh cave, Lingshu Pavilion, Miao Wushuang, spoke: “My cave has always only accepted female disciples. Let the little girl become my apprentice; that will make daily life easier as well.” Dunan pressed his palms together, “Wushuang, you are wise to teach according to aptitude. If this child enters Lingshu Pavilion and receives your guidance, she will surely achieve greatness.”

Yang Wuji, head of the second cave, Thunder Hall, said, “Brother Dunan, I am willing to take Ma Beifang as my disciple.” Dunan nodded, “It is excellent that you are willing. However, this child has suffered great trauma, and his anger is pent up within. Over time, it could breed malice. Your lineage’s martial arts are fierce and forceful; I fear it may not suit him. But if you can soothe his heart and resolve his resentment, nurture peace within him, and keep him from straying down a dark path, it will be a blessing for Tianshan.”

Only Li Chongyuan remained on the floor. The heads of the fourth, fifth, and sixth caves—Ji Wuce of Xuanji Court, Wuxin Chan Master of Mirror Flower Boat, and Wen Wuya of Suwen Pavilion—remained silent. Zi Wuzhuo sighed and stood. “This child was brought here by me, so I shall take responsibility for him. I hope the abbot will grant permission.” Li Chongyuan, having been left until last, was eager for someone to accept him; how could Dunan refuse? He pressed his palms together. “Though this child’s appearance and bones are not exceptional, his mind is calm and steady, able to endure hardship and loneliness. To enter the sect and enjoy tranquility is also a good fate.” Thus, the three children were assigned to their respective masters and led away to their new homes.

At the foot of Tianshan, the grass was lush as a jade carpet, trees formed a canopy overhead, and white lambs, like drifting clouds, grazed in the fields. Women in colorful attire herded horses, their melodious songs echoing like larks. In the distance, milky mists swirled, lending the land an otherworldly beauty. Yet above the snowline, all was white and glacial—a world of endless cold. Tianshan was, in truth, a great snowy mountain, hardly an easy place for human life. Yet the sect’s ancestors had cultivated themselves here for generations. For the three children, burdened by blood-deep vendettas, comfort meant little. Having witnessed Li Jiu’s transcendent swordsmanship at the inn, all were filled with longing to master such arts, each secretly vowing to learn the Tianshan skills and someday avenge their families.

The elders had matters to discuss with the abbot, so the three children were left in the care of the chief disciples of their respective caves. Along the mountain path, Li Jiu of Mingxin Cave, Du Xin of Thunder Hall, and Hong Mochou of Lingshu Pavilion led the way. Though the road was steep and blanketed in deep snow, their steps were light as if they floated above the earth. The mountain wind howled, driving snowflakes in wild flurries. When the biting snow struck Li Jiu and Hong Mochou, it seemed to lose all force, sliding weakly off their robes. Du Xin, eager to show off, summoned his internal energy to create a shield; snowflakes that drifted within a foot were shattered and flung away by his power. He kept the others laughing with jokes, paying no mind to the struggling children behind.

Ma Beifang, though not rigorously trained, had practiced martial arts since childhood. After a few falls, he found his footing and walked steadily. Huang Shan, used to running wild in the mountains, was the most sure-footed of all. But Li Chongyuan, with no foundation and no experience in snowy terrain, slipped and fell repeatedly, his face bruised and stung by the wind and snow—a pitiful sight.

After more than half an hour, they reached a fork in the path, where it was time to part ways. Huang Shan clung to Ma Beifang and Li Chongyuan, weeping and unwilling to let go. Ma Beifang, though no longer blaming Li Chongyuan for the tragedy at the escort agency, could not fully let go of his resentment. He merely cupped his fists in farewell and turned away. Mingxin Cave lay thirty miles southwest of the Tianshan main peak. Li Jiu led Li Chongyuan along a winding mountain trail.

As they walked, Li Jiu said, “From the moment you set foot on this path, you’ve begun your training.” Li Chongyuan asked in surprise, “You can train just by walking? How?” “All martial arts,” Li Jiu explained, “whether fists, blades, or staves, are rooted in the movements of daily life. Walking itself is a form of training. As the saying goes, ‘Better to move well than to strike well.’ If you can master the art of walking so that no opponent can lay a finger on you, that is the highest skill. There are countless sects and methods, but in the end, all serve the same purpose: to defeat your enemy. If you lose sight of that and practice only for show, it’s useless in a real fight.”

“Is Senior Brother Du Xin’s skill really so powerful? Just now, he didn’t even move and the snowflakes were forced away.”

“Senior Brother Du is formidable,” Li Jiu replied, “but that’s not where his true strength lies. What you saw was the Hunyuan Skill. With long practice, a single thought generates protective energy, immune to all evil. Yet to use it offensively, you must reach the sixth level. He’s only at the fifth, good for blocking snowflakes, but in a real fight, he wouldn’t dare act so brashly.”

“But…”

“All right, let me first teach you our sect’s breathing technique. Once you master it, you’ll have reached the first level of the Hunyuan Skill. At the third, you too can repel snowflakes. Listen carefully: press your tongue to the roof of your mouth, step first with your left foot, keeping your toes on the ground, and slide it forward. Your right hand should be against your ribs, rising to your chest, then extend forward as you turn your head to the right and inhale—yes, like that. Now slide your right foot forward, toes on the ground, brushing past your left leg. Your left hand rises to your chest and extends forward as you turn your head to the left and exhale—correct. Just like that.”

Li Chongyuan followed his instructions, practicing as he walked. This Hunyuan Skill was the Tianshan Sect’s foundational art, the root of all its internal practices. All the sect’s peerless techniques evolved from it. Those who mastered Hunyuan to perfection could swiftly learn all other Tianshan skills. Levels one through five were relatively easy to attain, but from the sixth to the eighth, progress became exceedingly difficult. Many Tianshan experts refined their sword and fist to the pinnacle, yet their inner power remained forever stuck at the sixth or seventh level, unable to advance. Lacking deep internal strength, even the most brilliant techniques could not make them true masters. Conversely, some focused only on internal power, neglecting martial skills, and though they attained astonishing strength, they lacked the technique to wield it—like a boat without a rudder, they too could not reach the summit of martial arts.

After the eighth level, breaking through to the ninth was easy, but fraught with danger—a single misstep could lead to madness or disaster. Thus, unless one had completely cleared their mind and cut off all distractions, one had to restrain oneself and not attempt the breakthrough lightly. For instance, Zi Wuzhuo had already surpassed the eighth level, but because his heart was unsettled, he dared not take that final step, holding back at the threshold.

The Tianshan techniques emphasized building a solid foundation. If this was done well, the practitioner could draw on inexhaustible acquired energy through breathing and meditation. If not, and one rushed into advanced techniques, every use of power would deplete the innate energy one was born with—when that was gone, even the greatest skills would be useless and death would follow. Thus, laying the foundation could not be taken lightly; only after passing this stage would Tianshan disciples be taught further arts.

So, step by step, Li Chongyuan practiced as they made their way to Mingxin Cave. By the time they arrived, it was already late in the night, though the snow’s reflection kept the darkness at bay. Despite its name, Mingxin Cave was not a cave, but a large compound of dozens of rooms. As it was late, Li Jiu did not introduce him to the other disciples, but brought him directly to a room. The chamber was small but clean, containing only a bed, a chair, and a table. Li Jiu fetched him a quilt from elsewhere, then took his leave.

Li Chongyuan lay on the bed, his body aching with fatigue, but his mind wide awake. He tossed and turned, unable to sleep. At last, he drifted off, only to dream of his dead parents—of Ah Fu and Ah Gui, their bloodied faces. When he awoke, his pillow was already damp with tears.