"Song of the Hero" — Zhang Hua (Wei-Jin Period)Heaven and earth clash in thunderous might, boundless and ever vast.Man is born with fate ordained—what begins must surely pass.Years slip away with but a glance; glory must be seized while fast.What hero with rage in chest would idly guard a hollow path?I mount my mighty Ferghana steed, I string my supple bow.My longblade sweeps across the plains, my high crown brushes the skies.Bold and free, I blaze like rainbow mist, my roar commands the wind.I thunder through the Eight Wastes wide, my might awes northern hordes.I bathe my blade by ocean's edge, I gallop through desert storms.In times of virtue and of peace, the world will call me hero born.
Once the Immortal Empress Palace Mistress Nangong Yan and her entourage departed in subdued silence, Wu Tong raised his voice:
"The Khagan, upon hearing of your cruel abduction of innocent women, was furious. We three were dispatched under royal command. Anyone who resists shall be shown no mercy—execution on the spot!"
The members of the Western Sacred Sect turned pale at these words.
Ling Xian'er stepped forward, her voice ringing clear as she walked toward the Thunder King Lai Budé and Mountain King Xie Xian:
"Heaven cherishes all life. Hall Master Wu is not an unreasonable man. I now offer you this chance—those willing to abandon darkness and embrace the light, step to my left. I'll count to ten. After that, the opportunity will be gone!"
Liu Yun followed:
"Think carefully! Leaving the Western Sacred Sect may still preserve your lives. But if you choose to face our blades… you will not survive!"
The name Wu Tong of the Hall of Loyalty and Righteousness had long struck fear into many. Upon hearing these words from the two women, hesitation and hope rippled through the ranks of the Sect's minions. A few began to stir.
Xie Xian shouted, voice cold:
"Who dares!"
Ling Xian'er stood firm, voice rising:
"Do not fear! I am here watching!"
Xie Xian realized that if he didn't act, the whole crew might desert. He sprang into the air and barked:
"Little girl—let me see what you're made of!"
Ling Xian'er's eyes glinted like stars, radiant and sharp:
"Seems I'll have to show some skill to make my point! Come on then—make your move!"
Her voice barely faded when Xie Xian let out a long howl. His shoulders shook as his sleeves lashed outward—palm force slicing through the air with a piercing shriek, his internal energy fierce and brutal, aiming straight for her chest with a force like piercing clouds.
But Ling Xian'er spun aside, swift and light, dodging like a flash of lightning. A sharp northern wind blew, and Xie Xian, roaring again, launched himself upward into the sky.
He came diving down, double palms lashing like twin thunderbolts.
Still, Ling Xian'er remained calm, unshaken, dodging with ethereal grace.
Xie Xian grew red with frustration. As a Saint King of the Sacred Sect, he could not stand being toyed with. He funneled more force into his strikes—palm wind roaring like a storm, clouds scattering, dust flying.
But Ling Xian'er, schooled in deep family traditions, wielded a martial art of great renown—"Feathered Plume Palm." At that moment, she unleashed the move "Whirling Wings in Flight." With strange and unpredictable form, she soared into the air, her palm striking out in a lightning-fast assault. In the blink of an eye, multiple strikes followed.
Xie Xian sensed danger, but it was too late.
Suddenly, a flash—a figure intervened with a booming palm strike.
Ling Xian'er's figure blurred like a bolt of lightning. The clash was deafening—smack! smack!—as the three exchanged blows mid-air, then landed separately.
Liu Yun called out:
"Surrender now, and you may yet live!"
But these two Saint Kings of the Western Sacred Sect were proud to the bone.
Lai Budé burst into laughter:
"We are Saint Kings of the Sacred Sect! Surrender? Death is a fate we do not fear!"
Xie Xian added solemnly, his voice heroic:
"We've wandered the martial world for years. What joy is life? What fear is death?"
Ling Xian'er sneered:
"You use the name of gods to prey upon the weak. You are no saints—only demons in disguise."
Wu Tong nodded approvingly, his tone grave:
"I respect your courage. But justice and evil cannot coexist. Today, under my Crouching Dragon Blade, I will show no mercy. Come!"
Lai Budé said:
"Swords and blades don't make the man. We fight barehanded—you, Wu Tong, famed throughout the land, dare you drop your blade for a true fight to the death?"
Wu Tong replied:
"Saint Kings, your spirit shakes the heavens. I shall oblige you!"
He turned, and solemnly handed his blade to Liu Yun, who accepted it in silence.
A final duel was now inevitable—tension reached its peak.
Dust rose as horses galloped in—"Dust rising, horses charging in, Who would expect a trueborn man? Yet say—what cause for fear or flinch? Demons brim with fearsome might."