[Ten Scenery Satin]

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-24

Chapter One:

The vast wilderness stretches out, the setting sun hangs alone over the western mountains, and a patch of yellowish-green dry grass ripples in the wind.

The open fields of northern Shaanxi remain as peaceful as ever. A middle-aged man strolls among the grass, three children following behind, chatting and laughing without stopping for a moment.

The man paces back and forth, stopping under a withered tree, and suddenly says, "Yuan'er, pick up a branch and practice a few sword moves with your senior brother." The three children, knowing it's practice time again, immediately respond with two boys around ten years old: "Yes!"

The younger boy picks up a long branch, his left hand forming a sword gesture, his technique surprisingly precise. The other boy steps forward and exhales. The two boys, having established their stances, immediately begin sparring. The remaining child, a little girl of eight or nine, skipped and hopped to the man, blinked, and said, "Dad, is Brother Wen's technique the Compass Sword? It's really not very interesting." The man patted the little girl's head and smiled, "Xuan'er, don't talk nonsense. Be good and watch your senior brothers' moves carefully."

The boy holding the branch thrust and parried with very little force, yet his position was extremely stable. The other boy, with his left palm and right fist, had much greater strength, striking upwards and downwards, his fist and palm suddenly switching, changing opening and closing—it was a very high level of skill.

After watching about ten moves, the man said, "Good, stop!"

The two boys finished their stances and ran to the man's side. The man took the branch and said, “Yuan’er, your move to stab the left shoulder just now wasn’t executed well. You should have turned the sword like this and stabbed like this… Yang’er, if you had punched the abdomen instead, your junior brother would have lost…”

The little boy listened attentively to his master’s instructions, while the little girl sat on the grass, looking up at her father as he talked and demonstrated, seemingly finding it very interesting. Until the sun had set and the moon was high in the sky, the four of them slowly left the grassland.

Thus, day after day, moon after moon, how much time had passed, and now only three people remained on the grassland. The two little boys had grown into spirited young men, and the girl behind them had blossomed into a beautiful young woman.

The three of them stopped under a tree standing alone in the wilderness. It was early summer, and the grass and trees were lush and verdant, the tree no longer a withered specimen. Under the tree was a solid stone, simply engraved with the five characters “Tomb of Hua Xuanqing.”

The young girl bowed to the stone tomb and said, "Father, we've come to see you again." She then untied a bag of rice wine and poured it all onto the stone. This girl was Hua Xuan, the only daughter of the person buried beneath the tomb. In the swaying shadows of the leaves, her features were exquisite, her figure graceful and elegant—truly a beautiful young woman.

The two young men were Hua Xuanqing's disciples. The elder brother, Xiang Yang, was twenty years old, with striking features and a dashing appearance. The younger brother, Wen Yuan, was only seventeen, two years older than Hua Xuan, and possessed a refined and elegant demeanor, resembling a scholar with no trace of martial arts training.

Wen Yuan bowed to the tomb and said, "Master, my fellow disciples, senior brothers, and junior sisters are about to set off today to use our master's skills to right wrongs. Please bless us, Master." Xiang Yang patted Wen Yuan on the shoulder and laughed, "Alright, alright, with your current skills, you don't need Master's blessing." He added, "We are all fellow disciples, each with our own strengths. However, what will become of us three figures in the martial arts world in the future? Nobody knows. Every year on this day, we will return here for a gathering and see who failed to carry on Master's teachings and eliminate evil. Then we will kowtow to Master three hundred and sixty-five times!"

Hua Xuan clapped his hands and laughed, "Senior Brother Xiang, is this your idea? Don't try to back out when you're dizzy from kowtowing!" Xiang Yang laughed heartily. Wen Yuan smiled and said, "Senior Brother's skills are the most impressive; it seems I'll be the one to kowtow." Xiang Yang laughed and said, "Nonsense, let's get going!"

The three left their old training ground and parted ways under the setting sun. This time, they entered the martial world, their future uncertain; they would meet again in a year!

Xiang Yang bid farewell to his junior brothers and sisters and headed east. He was naturally free-spirited and unconventional, and although he sometimes felt lonely, when the mood struck, he would drink, practice his fists, and intervene with his fists when he saw injustice. He had followed his master, Hua Xuanqing, the longest and had seen much. Along the way, he punched local tyrants and kicked corrupt officials, without suffering any losses. After all, his martial arts were extraordinary, and ordinary villains were no match for him.

One day, they arrived in Zhao County. The summer sun was blazing, and Xiang Yang casually found a pavilion to rest in, opened his wine pouch, and drank and enjoyed the scenery. Looking north, he saw a stone arch bridge spanning the river, its design quite elegant. He immediately asked a scholar-like man beside him, "Brother, this bridge is quite beautiful. What's it called again?" The scholar replied, "This is the Zhaozhou Bridge, built by Li Chun of the Sui Dynasty. Look, how well it's designed! It's thick at both ends and thin in the middle, with a gentle slope. It's convenient for carriages and horses to pass on, and boats can pass underneath without getting in the way. As for the stone arches at both ends, each has two arched openings. Do you know what that's called? It's called an open-shoulder arch. The advantage of this is..."

Seeing him nodding and talking incessantly, Xiang Yang laughed heartily and said, "You've certainly got a lot of tricks up your sleeve when it comes to building a bridge."

Without listening to him any further, he stepped onto the stone bridge. The balustrades were carved with various subjects, some depicting landscapes and figures, others dragons, tigers, and mythical beasts. The balusters were also quite elaborate, with designs of coiled dragons, bamboo joints, and double pearls. Although he didn't understand them, he knew they were exquisite works of art.

After watching for a moment, just as they were about to descend the bridge, they suddenly heard the distant sound of galloping hooves. They heard shouts from the crowd: "The bandits are coming! The Third King of White Tiger Stronghold!" Everyone on and below the bridge paled, screaming and fleeing. Xiang Yang pulled away from the bridge, grabbed the scholar who was about to escape, and asked, "What is White Tiger Stronghold? Is it a den of mountain bandits in this area?" The scholar's teeth chattered, and he stammered, "Yes...yes..."

Xiang Yang laughed, "Look how scared you are! Fine, it is. You'd better run far away!" He released the scholar, whose legs went weak and he couldn't move for a moment. He stood there for a moment, then screamed and fled.

Xiang Yang stood in the middle of the bridge and saw a yellow mist approaching from afar. He thought, "Good! In broad daylight, such a large group of mountain bandits have come out of their den. Could White Tiger Stronghold really be so powerful?" A moment later, dozens of strong horses charged towards the bridge, their hooves thundering. Xiang Yang roared, "Which scoundrel is leading this? Stop right there!" His words, delivered with internal force, were clear, loud, and thunderous. The bandits shuddered and reined in their horses. Seeing only a young boy on the bridge, they cursed, "What kind of little bastard are you, shouting like that!" "Get out of my way!" "Get off the bridge, or I'll run you over!"

Xiang Yang ignored them. Seeing a fat man with a fierce face holding a disheveled woman, he pointed at him and said, "You're the third leader of White Tiger Stronghold?"

The fat man glared at him, his left hand groping the woman's body. "What? Which gang are you from?" he asked. He was experienced and knew the young man's shout revealed considerable internal strength, but confident in his own martial arts, he didn't take him seriously, focusing instead on fondling the woman in his arms. The woman wept softly, her shoulders heaving, too afraid to utter a sound.

Xiang Yang nodded and said, "Alright, put down all the looted valuables and women, and get back to your stronghold!" The third chieftain glared at him, angrily saying, "You brat..." Before he could finish his sentence, Xiang Yang had already leaped forward, his right palm striking out. The third chieftain casually parried, but unexpectedly, his wrist tightened. Xiang Yang transformed his palm into a claw, immediately seizing his wrist, and with a flick and a throw, a large body was sent flying into the river with a "plop," while the woman was already in Xiang Yang's arms.

Xiang Yang helped the woman sit against the bridge railing and laughed, "Don't be alarmed, young lady!" The woman seemed frightened and slumped down. Suddenly, a "splash" was heard, and the third chieftain had jumped back onto the bank, brandishing two hammers, cursing, "Brothers, kill this little bastard together!" The bandits shouted loudly, dismounted, and drew their swords to attack.

The third chieftain's two copper hammers flew up and down, rushing straight for Xiang Yang. Xiang Yang saw it clearly, and with a swift movement, he swung his hands around the hammers. The Third Chieftain felt a tremendous force emanating from each of his hammers. Startled, the hammers collided with a loud "clang!" The impact sent numbness through his arms, causing the hammers to slip from his grasp and fall to the ground. Unexpectedly, Xiang Yang lightly tapped the ground with his right foot, deflecting the hammers and striking the Third Chieftain's feet squarely. The Third Chieftain cried out in pain, as if his bones had shattered.

Xiang Yang laughed heartily, his movements fluid and rapid, delivering over thirty slaps to the Third Chieftain's face.

Fortunately, his face was originally fat, and now, whether it was swollen or not, it was hard to tell. Xiang Yang leaped out, his palm strikes sending the bandits sprawling to the ground, unable to dodge at all. Xiang Yang searched the bandits for their valuables, released the other captured women, and kicked steel knives into the river as he went, even sending dozens of pounds of copper hammers flying. The bandits lay on the ground, dumbfounded, when suddenly they heard Xiang Yang shout, "Get lost! In less than three days, I will raze White Tiger Stronghold to the ground. Go back and report!"

The bandits dared not linger, hastily mounting their horses in chaos. Some of the bandits, after being struck by his palm, even lost the strength to mount their horses, and the bandits fled in disarray.

Seeing the group of women, about twenty in number and disheveled, Xiang Yang asked, "Do you know how to get back to your villages?" One woman whispered, "Yes... it's in Zhoujia Village up ahead." Xiang Yang distributed the valuables to the women, letting them go home. The women, having escaped the bandits' clutches, thanked Xiang Yang profusely, supporting each other as they made their way home.

The woman captured by the third bandit leader remained sitting on the bridge. Xiang Yang approached to check on her and saw her biting her lip, trembling. Xiang Yang smiled and said, "Girl, what's wrong? Come, stand up." He extended his right hand.

The woman looked up at Xiang Yang. Xiang Yang then clearly saw her features: she appeared to be about seventeen or eighteen years old, with deep-set eyes, cherry lips, a delicate nose, and a slender figure. Having been captured by the bandits, she was extremely exhausted, making her all the more pitiful. She had been huddled by the railing, but seeing the gentle look on Xiang Yang's face, devoid of any fierceness, she timidly stood up, leaning against the railing, but did not take Xiang Yang's hand.

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[Ten Scenery Satin]

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