Chapter Forty-Seven: The Death of Duanmu Chou

Tuoba Hui said, “Though I roam the borderlands as a lone ranger, hunting heads for bounty, the frontiers have lately been peaceful and quiet, leaving me with nothing to do. In my leisure, I came to the Heavenly Mountains, hoping to meet old friends. Unexpectedly, trouble arose here, and as an old friend, I could not stand idly by. Thus, I took it upon myself to descend and offer my help. On my way, seeing the lively gathering nearby, I thought I’d join in the fun.”

It turned out that Tuoba Hui had come to the Heavenly Mountains for pleasure, and only upon meeting Du Nan did he learn that Zi Lan had been kidnapped by Ghost Sword and White Serpent. He came down to help search for her, suspecting that the gathering was somehow related to Zi Lan, and hurried over, only to encounter Yang Wuji and his companions. With so many people around, it was not convenient to speak openly.

Tuoba Hui pointed at Duanmu Chou and said, “Just now you claimed this and that were unsuitable. Thinking it over, I believe I am the most fitting opponent for you. First, I hail from the Iron Spear School of Huzhou, a reputable orthodox sect, yet in my wanderings through the martial world, I have learned many unorthodox techniques—my skills blend both orthodox and unorthodox. Second, I hunt heads at the border for bounty, employing any method—open battle, assassination, poison, arson—with no scruples about means, mixing orthodox and unorthodox in conduct as well. If we fight, neither can it be said that the orthodox bully the unorthodox, nor the unorthodox provoke the orthodox. At most, it is a brawl between martial wanderers, unlikely to spark wider conflict in the martial world. Is that not most suitable?”

Duanmu Chou shook his head. “You serve at the border and have earned the favor of Field Marshal Tian Yangming, making you, in effect, a man of the government. It is inappropriate for a government official to meddle in martial affairs.”

Tuoba Hui replied, “Though I kill enemies on the battlefield, it is solely for bounty, free from any command. Others fight by military order; I fight for business. I am not tied to the government—indeed, I am still a man of the martial world.”

Duanmu Chou said, “I’ve heard Field Marshal Tian Yangming tried several times to grant you the insignia of General Mingwei, but you always refused. Yet your name appears in the Ministry of War’s records, making you half a government man. Are you here to use the law to suppress martial grievances?”

Tuoba Hui flared. “You want to talk about the law? Very well! Let me tell you about the law. Three years ago, the Khitan army invaded on a massive scale. You colluded with a Khitan prince, personally led your disciples into our border fortresses, and amid the chaos of battle, murdered and set fires everywhere, creating confusion and causing heavy casualties among our soldiers. For this, the Khitan prince rewarded you with thirty thousand taels of silver and granted you the title of Armored Niu Lu. Is that not so?”

Duanmu Chou’s face changed dramatically as he forced out, “No such thing! You’re slandering me with baseless lies!”

Tuoba Hui sneered, “I knew you’d deny it! A year ago, when the white-robed Dashi invaded, you tried the same trick, sending disciples to infiltrate our fortresses and sow chaos. Fortunately, our soldiers were prepared and informed me in advance. I captured those fiends single-handedly, and under heavy interrogation, their confessions revealed everything. Your precious disciples confessed your deeds, and those written confessions are now in the Ministry of Justice. You cannot escape them! It was only to lure you out that we kept silent for now—the Protectorate of Ansixi has already issued a secret order for your arrest!” With that, he pulled out a stack of arrest warrants and threw them to the crowd.

Reading the documents, the crowd erupted in anger. Though there were murderers and thieves among the martial wanderers, and those who stole wealth or preyed on women, rarely did anyone collude with foreign enemies to slaughter the people. Now, seeing Duanmu Chou guilty of such heinous acts, righteous indignation filled every heart. Many drew their swords, glaring at him.

Knowing that a peaceful resolution was impossible today, Duanmu Chou raised his horse-chopping saber and said, “Enough words! Today, we fight to the death. If I die, you may take my head to the Ministry of Justice and claim your reward. If you cannot withstand my saber, ha! The Ministry shall have yet another case of a government official slain by martial hands.”

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Tuoba Hui gripped his twin spears. “Had you remained outside Great Zhou’s borders, I would have had trouble catching you. Now that you’ve come to the Central Plains, your time is up! Let’s begin!”

Duanmu Chou swung his saber in a move called “Creation of Heaven and Earth,” cleaving downwards. Tuoba Hui met him with his twin spears. The two clashed fiercely.

Duanmu Chou, famed as the Blade King of the Western Regions, was not renowned without reason. His saber technique was straightforward and practical, free of embellishment, but he excelled in deep internal power. The horse-chopping saber swept and stabbed with cunning ferocity, each strike sending waves of force; stone chips flew from the rocks, and white marks, like whip scars, appeared on the hard stone where the blade passed.

Tuoba Hui’s internal power was not outstanding, far inferior to Duanmu Chou. But his martial skills were diverse and unpredictable, with endless techniques. Though some martial wanderers wielded twin spears, theirs were usually three to five feet long, whereas his were military lances over ten feet in length. Most ordinary men would struggle to wield them with both hands, yet Tuoba Hui moved them one-handed with remarkable agility.

At first, his spears followed orthodox spear techniques—like dragons emerging from the sea, thrusting, lifting, locking, blocking, scattering countless silver stars. Suddenly, the technique shifted to whip methods, sweeping like a storm, striking, coiling, slashing, entwining, with layers of whip shadows filling the air. Then, the whip method transformed into staff technique, twin staffs thundering like lightning, jabbing, chopping, smashing, crashing, shaking the air with overwhelming force.

The battle was earth-shattering, the fierce winds forcing the crowd to retreat several yards. For two hours, neither gained the upper hand.

Growing anxious, Duanmu Chou let out a roar and his saberwork grew fiercer. He chopped down hard, and Tuoba Hui blocked with his twin spears. Instead of changing his attack, Duanmu Chou pressed down on the spears with his saber, then swiftly drew a short knife from the handle and stabbed at Tuoba Hui’s chest. The sudden turn shocked the onlookers, especially Lan Wutong who cried out in alarm.

Those skilled in long weapons often struggled in close combat; once someone broke through their defenses, disaster followed.

Yang Wuji hurriedly drew his sword to help, but the distance was too great to reach in time.

Tuoba Hui, calm amid crisis, tapped his toes and floated back several yards, evading the blow. Duanmu Chou pursued like a shadow, his short knife stabbing relentlessly, the blade ever close to Tuoba Hui’s clothes. In mid-air, Tuoba Hui stretched his arms back, launching his spear shafts behind him, then slid his hands forward to grip the spear tips, wielding them as short swords, using sword techniques to parry Duanmu Chou’s knife. Their movements were swift, the clang of metal blending into a single sound like a dragon’s roar. In the blink of an eye, they exchanged more than three hundred moves. Duanmu Chou swept his blade at Tuoba Hui’s throat; Tuoba Hui dodged low, then spun in a move called “Rhinoceros Gazes at the Moon,” the trailing spear shafts sweeping like tiger tails. The move was lightning-fast, and Duanmu Chou could not evade, taking a direct hit to the chest. He was knocked back several yards, spitting blood. Before he could land, Tuoba Hui hurled his spear, piercing Duanmu Chou’s chest and nailing him to the ground.

Laughing heartily, Tuoba Hui picked up the fallen saber, severed Duanmu Chou’s head, and placed it in his leather pouch.

Under the moonlight, steam rose from his sweat-soaked body, showing the exhausting struggle he had just endured. After catching his breath, Tuoba Hui said, “Duanmu Chou has plagued the martial world for years, and countless heroes fell to his blade. Today, thanks to your fortune, his evil has reached its end. Killing this villain is a service to the martial world.”

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With this matter settled, Yang Wuji, knowing that the chiefs were not currently at the Heavenly Mountains, persuaded Jade Immortal to postpone their meeting for three months. The martial masters, long reclusive, could now take the chance to enjoy the country’s scenic wonders. Jade Immortal gladly agreed.

Yang Wuji, having learned from letters that Zi Lan had been rescued and was recuperating at Wang’s Medicine Shop in Luoyang under the care of Master Wuxin and Wen Wuyai, was no longer anxious. He led Song Changkong and the others to Luoyang to reunite. Du Xin’s injuries were severe and needed several days to heal, so Li Chongyuan and others went to notify Zi Wuzhu. Once everyone was gathered, they would return to the Heavenly Mountains and welcome Jade Immortal and the others.

Tuoba Hui said, “I came to the Central Plains this time to rescue Zi Lan. Now that she is safe, I have other urgent matters to attend to and must take my leave.” After bidding farewell to the group, he strode off with his spear.

Meanwhile, Li Chongyuan took Lin Qingli and Lan Wutong straight to Suzhou. A few days later, they reached the borders of Ezhou.

Ezhou was rich in mountains and forests, with indistinct paths. The three reached a mountain valley as night was falling, with no dwellings nearby—would they have to sleep in the wilderness again?

As they fretted, they heard rustling nearby. A sturdy Yao villager appeared, carrying two bundles of firewood. Lan Wutong, familiar with the dialects of the Miao, Yao, and Yi peoples, went forward to greet him, exchanging a few words. The Yao man shook his head repeatedly, seemingly urging her to leave quickly, his expression impatient. Though he seemed simple-minded, he understood some Central Plains speech, and turned to Li Chongyuan and Lin Qingli, saying, “If you gentlemen wish to lodge for the night, follow me.”

Lan Wutong asked, “The three of us came together—why can they stay while I cannot?” Li Chongyuan was puzzled; the Miao, Yao, and Yi peoples were usually close-knit and friendly to each other, but highly wary of Han Chinese. Yet this man was strangely turning Lan Wutong away while welcoming two Han.

The Yao man replied, “I’m sending you away for your own good. Don’t take it the wrong way.”

Lan Wutong protested, “That’s odd—you would have me sleep in the wild, yet claim it’s for my own good? I won’t accept that. If we stay, we stay together. Otherwise, we all leave.”

The Yao man was silent for a long time, frowning as if torn between choices. At last he said, “If you must come, you need to agree to three conditions.”

Lan Wutong laughed. “It’s said that big inns bully guests, and big guests bully inns, but in this wild mountain hamlet you have such strict rules? Very well, let’s hear them.”