All copyrights are reserved . The use of any part of this publication reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, or stored in a retrieval system, without the prior consent of the publisher or writer is an infringement of the copyright law. Swan Beauty CHAPTER 1 This is a no man’s land. I find myself walking in the snow under a pitch-dark sky. I can feel the loneliness and despondency hanging over the place. Have I, Mei Mei, been abandoned by my family and friends? Or have I deserted them myself? Shortly after I turned eighteen, my mother sat me down and told me about our village tradition, whereby girls unlucky enough to be born without a pretty face were dumped into the ocean as a form of sacrifice to the Eternal God. Given my unattractive appearance, my mother and I deliberated over the issue: should I stay behind and surrender myself to my inevitable fate or flee from the village to make a new life for myself elsewhere? But if I made the second choice, where would I go? When I was a little girl, I often noticed that there were girls who I knew had disappeared and when I asked my mother about it, she usually evaded my question. Presumably, she did not wish to scar my childhood. It is my nineteenth birthday today and I ought to be celebrating it with my father and my mother. However, here I am, all alone. After prolonged discussions about the choices that were available to me, my parents had decided that I should leave the village for the Magic Lake, the waters of which were known to transform one’s plain appearance and turn one into a beauty. No wonder the name “Mei Mei”, which means beautiful, was given to me. My parents naturally hoped that I would grow up to be a beautiful woman, and I would not be made a sacrifice to the eternal god. Nobody knew, however, where the Magic Lake was located. If I managed to become pretty by going to the lake, I would then be able to return to the village and, hopefully, change the attitude of its residents, persuading them to give up their evil custom. But first, I needed to find a way of avoiding rejection from the villagers when I returned home. And the only way was to transform myself into an attractive woman. Two days ago, my mother had packed a bag for me containing some dried food and warm clothing and asked me to sneak out of the village right after dusk had fallen. I had obeyed her. But now that I’m completely on my own and headed for the unknown, I keep asking myself: where is the Magic Lake? Not a soul knows. I have no option but to find it myself. As I walk along, I cannot sense the presence of a single human being. All I hear is the whistling of the wind. All I feel is the coldness piercing my heart. The night I left the village, I had worn a dark suit and coat to camouflage my identity. My long silky hair had been bundled up and hidden under a black wooly hat. Although the fact of having to leave home against my will makes me feel terribly rejected, I have confidence in myself that I will some day return home in a blaze of glory. All through the journey, the aroma of food my imagination keeps conjuring up makes my knees weak and my stomach ache. My teeth move of their own accord in a grinding and chewing motion, but they have nothing of substance to help them along! I have never had to do without food before to suffer the pangs of hunger. Nor have I ever left my village in the past. I have no idea of what lies beyond it because as a young girl, I was not even allowed to cross its perimeter. I don’t realize how far I have walked till I detect smoke in the distance. I am overcome by exhaustion. It starts snowing again and the cold is like a vice around my torso and my soul. I feel like a corpse. But smoke! “If there is smoke”, I tell myself, “there has to be a fire somewhere”. A ray of hope at last! I know I have to get there. I have to survive, to live. I am my parents’ only offspring and they adore me. I quickly put my hunger pangs and exhaustion on hold. My heart skips a beat. Am I dreaming? Is it real? Is my mind playing tricks on me? I have heard that those lost in the wilderness often see visions that impel them to carry on. I try to run, but find my feet dragging. It is the snow slowing me down, I reason. I have to be careful. I must not fall down, I have to stay focused. I must go on. Despite these silent exhortations to myself, I am utterly confused. Gradually, a tiny hut appears in the distance. I manage to stride up to it without fear or hesitation. It is when I try knocking on the door that I realize it is not there at all. It is a figment of my wishful thinking, a hallucination. There is no real smoke, no real door. All that is palpable is the thudding of my heart in its rib cage. With no hope of a shelter and alone in the wilderness, tears begin to course down my cheeks. Feeling the cold seep in through the soles of my shoes, I stare down at my feet. That’s when I notice footprints. Yes! Footprints in the snow! I have been longing to find someone to share my emptiness with and here is a sign suggesting the presence of someone other than myself in this vast void. Ignoring my hunger and exhaustion, I stagger on, following the path traced by the footprints. I am overcome by self-pity and cannot stop sobbing. I know it’s just one of those moments in life when you are feeling really low at the thought of being completely on your own. At home, I had been a cheerful person, quite unperturbed by my lack of looks. I had always been seized by wanderlust. But as a young girl, I was not allowed to travel far and had, therefore never had a chance to explore the real world. As I plod along, I fail to make sense of all the misfortune that has befallen me so far. “Why was I not born to be beautiful?” I sobbed again when I thought of it. CHAPTER 2 I must have fainted. For when I wake up, I find myself lying on a bed. The bed is warm and soft. I have no way of knowing how long I have been there. I try to get up and am immediately assailed by a hacking pain in my head. I struggle against that for a moment before eventually managing to get out of bed. The walls of the room I have been occupying are built of clay. Through a tiny window, I can see the falling snow. Suddenly, I feel a tap on my shoulder, I turn, startled to find a person wearing a large black hat attached to a piece of black cloth that covers his face. From his powerful build, I gather that this person is a man. I examine him from head to toe. I notice that every part of his body is covered, including his hands which are concealed inside a pair of black gloves. His feet are shod in heavy boots. Is he a human being or someone from the unknown world of ghosts and phantoms? Without moving or speaking, I wait for his next move. I am not at all afraid of him. I have felt his warmth and kindness through his touch. He hands me a bowl of hot soup which I accept without hesitation. The broth is delicious and I finish it quickly and hand him the bowl. To my surprise, however, he leaves the room without uttering a word. I am puzzled to observe that although he is wearing heavy metal boots, his receding footsteps are as light as feathers. Well, once he leaves the room, I go over to the stove. Hey, there’s more food here. Delicious meat that tastes like chicken and soft, soft rice! This, at least is real! Wow, I think, what luck! Eating my fill is my first priority! In the dim light, the food does looks like chicken. Next to the stove, stands a huge chest. From the feel of it, it appears to be made from logs of timber. Although the chest is quite heavy, my curiosity gets the better of me and eggs me on to open it. What I see inside makes the message from my brain travel so fast to my stomach that I feel sick. The chest is full of skeletons! Is that man a cannibal I wonder? I am scared out of my wits. Then I hear knocks on the door. “Are you all right?” I hear the man ask in a soft voice. “How is it that you have come to this land? This is no place for a lady like you.” “You’re a g-good cook,” I stammer, not knowing what else to say. “If you remain here, I’ll cook for you.” I avoid responding to his offer and ply him instead with all the questions that come to mind. “Why do you wear long, thick leather gloves and heavy metal shoes? You scared me, you know, when I first laid eyes on you!” When I finally lapse into silence, I realize that I have asked too many questions. For a while, neither of us utters a word. Then the man gestures at me to follow him. We leave the room and make our way to an enormous hallway where, in the fashion of a stately manor, candles light up every nook and corner. I follow the man down to a spiral staircase. As we climb up the stairs, I notice that they lead to a very cozy platform. I look up at the glass ceiling. Over it lies a thick layer of snow. I try to imagine how bright and beautiful the sky will look through the glass roof when the snow on it melts. My thoughts come sharply back to reality when the man gestures at me to sit down. The stool I choose is very peculiar in shape and appears to be made of some kind of skin. The man then crosses the floor to the other side of the platform and sits down next to a small, multicoloured stained-glass window. I wait patiently for him to begin speaking. His voice, when he does so, is sad. “I am the son of the man who owned this land,” he explains. “I was brought up in this mansion. Ten years ago, from far away came a fierce tribe that invaded our land. The Chief of the Black Head Tribe was a cruel devil. He and his men slaughtered all the people in our land, leaving not a soul alive. They inflicted terrible wounds on my face and body and even on feet. While my face was brutally savaged, my feet took the worst blows. In fact, the severity of my wounds must have convinced them I was dead. That is how I managed to escape alive. I am the only survivor in this place.” Listening to his tale, I am overwhelmed by compassion for him and cannot help interrupting him to ask, “What is your name? How did you recover from your wounds?” “In this land,” he explains, “we do not have names. People always referred to me as the Prince. With so many corpses strewn around, the idea struck me that I could use their skin to patch up my severe facial injuries. The heavy metal shoes I am wearing help to hold my feet together.” He pauses for a moment before adding, to my astonishment, “The stool you are sitting on is made of dead human skin.” At his words, I feel a tremor start up inside me and my face loses colour. I pull myself together and ask in a frightened tone, “Do you eat people as well?” “No, I don’t,” he replies casually, “but I have found a way to survive. After all, I have been living here in seclusion for several years.” Despite his gentle gesture and sincere manner, I am terrified of sharing the same room with him. I run as fast as I can to my room, although my feet feel like dead weight. I can’t get over the visions evoked by the Prince’s description of transplanting dead human skin on a living person. It makes me sick to the stomach. It is now clear to me why there were so many skeletons in the chest. I confine myself to my room the day. When I have regained my composure the next day, I recall not having seen a single living plant all along the route to this place. I wish desperately that someone would put me out of my misery. Suddenly, I am overcome by the urge to breathe some fresh air. I hastily grab my coat, leave the room, run through the hallway and open the huge wooden door that leads outside. The sun appears to have just come out, bringing with it thousands of gentle rays that catch the morning dew and make it glisten. A wonderful sense of relief and freedom surges through me and I want to run forever and ever. However, when my gaze takes in the large expanse of barren land stretching before me, I stop short, wondering whether I should carry on with my journey to find the Magic Lake or remain where I am to find out more about this mysterious place and its sole, ghostly occupant. I study my surroundings carefully for a while. As the Prince had said, there are no plants, no living things in this place. It is just a vast piece of land stretching to the horizon. It seems strange enough to me that a large, beautiful estate like this one should have been standing in isolation in this cold, deserted corner of the world. The more I contemplate the place, the more curious I am about the Prince. I stroll slowly back to the house. As usual, the silence is pervasive, but this time, I hear the faintest suggestion of someone sobbing. I follow it and find myself in another huge room. It is bare of furniture and very cold. Then I notice the Prince in the middle of the room. The moment I pause, the sobbing dies away. The light is too poor for him to notice me. Without warning, the man runs out of the room through a tiny exit. I follow in his footsteps right away, but lose him on the way in a dark tunnel. CHAPTER 3 “Wow!” I think, “this really is a big mansion!” I fear I have lost my way. Suddenly, the floor opens beneath my feet and I fall right in, sliding down a dark tunnel with lots of bends in it. I cannot stop screaming. I can’t see a thing. I fall onto a waterbed and my back hurts from the impact. To my surprise and delight, I find myself surrounded by a soothing landscape, a vast expanse of green. I look around and observe blooming flowers in bizarre shapes. I struggle out of the bed and look up. I notice something I had not seen before: a gigantic glass conservatory. In fact, I am enclosed in this underground conservatory with its vast roof extending above the ground. Through the bushes in the distance, I see the Prince again. He is approaching me. This time, he is dressed entirely in white. “Come,” he says, “try the food I have prepared. You must be very hungry by now. You look pale. Try my home- grown vegetables. They are all grown here in this conservatory and this is the food I am surviving on.” This time, I greedily devour the food. A thought occurs to me while I am eating. I remember what my parents back home had told me about the Magic Lake and its miraculous healing properties. “Would you like to transform your appearance so that you look like your original self again?” I ask him. “My mother told me about the Magic Lake that could heal and thereby restore a person’s changed appearance to its original form and cure all diseases.” “Whether it is true or not, I would definitely like to give it a try!” he replies enthusiastically. “I do hope the Magic Lake will heal the scars on my disfigured face and my injured limbs.” “But I have no idea where the Magic Lake is,” I confess. “I know,” he muses, “that if there are mountains, there will be lakes. There are no mountains here in the southern part of this planet. But up in the north, there are several. We should start exploring the north. “I think I owe you an explanation as to what happened in this land after the wicked invaders had left, and the reason for them not returning and occupying this land. It was because I secretly poisoned the soil, so that these people would not return to this place and settle here. “All the cattle died too, from shortage of fodder. I myself have been living on home-grown vegetables. I have reserved a piece of land for myself inside this glass house. The house conserves the heat and keeps the cold away. This place is just like a paradise. Trees, flowers and vegetables grow here, contributing to a splendid, self- sufficient structure.” “So how long have you been living like this all by yourself?” I enquire. “See that flowerbed?” he asks. “Every day, I plant a flower. Altogether, you see two columns of flowers here in two different colours. Each column represents a year. ” “I would like you to come with me to find this Magic Lake,” I suggest, thinking that it can do no harm if I have another person accompany me. Suddenly, the Prince comes very close. A sweetly pleasant scent emanates from his body and he starts touching my long, wavy hair. I am rather shocked. I have never had a man stand so close to me. “Your silky hair will complement your beautiful face after you have soaked yourself in the magic water of the lake,” he observes, before leaving me alone. I wander around in this dream garden and try to collect my thoughts. Yes, I will do it. I will go and find the Magic Lake with him. I am determined to see what it can do for me. I then try to find the Prince. I approach the exit through which he has just left. I go out and notice a large stretch of bare, lifeless land. I am wondering where the man has gone. “Where are you?” I shout. Within seconds, he is there before me, startling me by the suddenness of his appearance. “Shall we go to the Magic Lake together so that we can transform our appearance?” I ask him. “Of course,” he replies. “I intended to suggest it to you myself, but was not sure whether you would agree to come with me. Let’s do some packing now and get some food ready for the journey. We can set off tomorrow morning.” I do not, in fact, have much to pack, because when I left home, I took only a few items of clothing and other necessities. At home, a girl like me was not allowed to wear fancy clothes. Only girls blessed with pretty faces had the right to wear beautiful clothes. This did not bother me at all as I was happy with what I was. I had never even possessed outfits in bright colours, My determination to get to the Magic Lake is as strong as ever, though I find it impossible to shake off my fear and feelings of insecurity. Will the lake be guarded by a fire- spouting dragon, I wonder. Will there be boats to carry us to the spot where the water will work its magic and transform our appearance? CHAPTER 4 When I get up at dawn the following morning, I decide to prepare a meal for the Prince and myself before we set off. However, when I go to the kitchen, he is already there. “I have prepared some mushroom wonton and noodles for our morning meal,” he informs me. “I have also steamed some buns for our journey.” Never before have I tasted such delicious wonton noodles! My mother used to make the same dish for us with minced pork and shrimp. It was good, but tasted quite different from the mushroom wonton I am eating now. While I’m busy remembering my mother’s wonton noodles, my thoughts linger on my parents and my hometown. Then it occurs to me that had my mother and father not suggested that I flee from my village, I would have been thrown into the river as a sacrifice to the Eternal God. The very thought makes me burst into tears. “What’s wrong?” asks the Prince. “Don’t you like the wonton I have made?” “Yes, I do. Very much indeed. The noodles are quite delicious. They remind me of the wonton noodles my mother used to make for me. I wish I could be in the waters of the Magic Lake right now and have my face changed completely. Then I could be back in my hometown to see my parents.” “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s move now,” he suggests. No sooner have we left his mansion than he grasps my waist and pulls it towards his body. Then we soar into the air and fly over a distance of about 200 feet. At this point, we stop and he puts me down. “How did you manage to do that?” I ask him, stunned. He tells me about the secret code of martial arts he had learnt from his father. He has been practising it since he was a child. Indeed, he has spent most of his time practising the different forms of martial arts and archery and the use of different weapons, including the sword and the spear. He practised especially hard after the collapse of his kingdom, as he was bent on wreaking revenge on his enemy. Having attained the sublime level in the art, the Prince is now capable of fighting off dozens of opponents at the same time. He reveals the mystery behind our ability to travel so swiftly: he had applied the light-steps skill, a secret code of martial arts his father had taught him. He further informs me that he has inherited the distinctive skill of fighting with a three-joint stick and can even walk on snow without leaving footprints. Just as I am beginning to feel secure, I suddenly spy a long, slimy snake slithering up to the Prince from behind. “A snake!” I scream, “there’s a snake behind you!” The Prince whips around, and within seconds, the snake turns into a very attractive woman. She is tall and slim and has long black hair. She is wearing a dress that shows off every curve of her body and barely covers her large, full breasts. The moment the Prince faces her, the woman looks startled and runs away as fast as she can, like a frightened child. Obviously, his appearance has alarmed her. The Prince takes out his large hat, to which a piece of cloth is attached, and puts it on to cover his face. He does not utter a word. We continue our journey and, by midday, reach a village. We stop at a little kiosk and have something to eat. As we leave the place, our attention is attracted to a big crowd, shouting and cheering. To satisfy our curiosity, we draw near and see a notice posted outside the kiosk. It carries a message saying that anyone who can win the martial-arts contest will be awarded a piece of land. We push our way towards the platform and see a huge, burly figure dressed in a loincloth standing there. A thick chain hangs over his chest and heavy gold earrings adorn his ears. “My name is Thousand Arms,” he shouts out to the crowd. “I am the greatest fighter in the world and I remain unbeaten. In fact, I am invincible. I challenge you all to take me on. Whoever wins the fight will be rewarded by my sponsor with a large piece of land.” As he speaks, the muscles in his chest ripple and the crowd steps back in fear. There is no doubt at all that he is paid handsomely to represent his sponsor. Thousand Arms wields a sword with a zigzag shape that glitters brightly in the sun. The thought immediately strikes me that the Prince should have a go. If he manages to win the contest, he will be rewarded with the land he needs to build a new home on. Since he is a master of the martial arts, I urge him to enter the contest. He is not so sure, but finally allows himself to be persuaded. After the Prince has put his name down for the contest, we wait a while. When his turn comes, I am both nervous and excited. Looking at Thousand Arms’ massive size, I quake inside. I watch the Prince leap up to the platform, light as a feather. People are taken aback by his appearance and, particularly, by the sight of his crippled feet. The Prince takes out his three-joint stick that flexes at each joint. The contest is on. The exchange of thrusts and cuts between the two participants is lightning-swift and the movements of the zigzag-shaped sword and the jointed stick are so fast that I can hardly make out what is going on. All I can hear is the sharp hiss of swipes and swerves as the two weapons move towards each other and the clattering noise as they make contact. Thousand Arms roars like a famished dragon and slashes his sword at the Prince. Sparks fly like a thousand stars, but the Prince somersaults with such speed and agility that all you see of him is a rolling ball. I now understand why Thousand Arms bears such a nickname. He can move his arms with such dazzling speed that the impression given is one of numerous sword- clutching hands launching an attack on the Prince simultaneously. Fortunately for the Prince, he has been trained in the light-foot technique that enables him to move from one spot to another even faster than Thousand Arms’ sword. The fight continues and the crowd cheers on the contestants. The street fills with ever more people. Those living in the houses nearby open their window shutters to watch the fight which has been going on for an unusually long time. I can see that both contestants are still going strong. It looks like the incumbent is not going to be easy to beat. Without warning, the Prince steps back. For a moment, I think he has lost his balance. But I am mistaken. Summoning his inner resources, the Prince swings his stick at Thousand Arms. It travels fast as lightning and strikes his opponent’s neck. Thousand Arms immediately falls to the ground. There is a moment of silence. Then the host comes forward and declares the Prince the winner. A wealthy merchant, the host admires great martial-arts masters and had, therefore, organized this contest. He hands the Prince a document. It is proof of ownership of the piece of land he has won in the contest. After a while, the crowd disperses. My instinct tells me, however, that there are people watching us covertly. “Let’s go,” says the Prince, “it is getting late. We have to find a place to stay for the night.” And by the way, I know people outside our land have names. What should I call you?” “My name is Ah Fong,” I reply, “but I have to remain anonymous for the time being to avoid being traced by my fellow villagers.” “I will call you Beauty, then, as you will become one after you have visited the Magic Lake,” the Prince declares. I nod, my way of indicating that I have no objections to his suggestion. Forced to leave my family whom I miss and long to see again, I am determined not to return to my hometown unless I can prove to my fellow villagers how unjust they have been in discriminating against girls like me, just because we were not born with good looks. CHAPTER 5 We continue our journey and, before long, have arrived at an inn situated in a narrow street. It is dark by now and silence lies like a pall over the street. I do not know why I have the feeling that we are being tailed. We enter the inn and approach the tiny man at the reception. He informs us that only one room is available. The rest are taken, for a great number of people have travelled down from other places either to participate in the martial-arts contest or to watch it. I bravely agree to take the available room, because I cannot bring myself to walk another step in order to look for alternative accommodation. It has been a long day and I am quite exhausted. At the same time, I am in a quandary, wondering whether I should be sleeping in the same room with a man. For a girl to spend the night in the same room with a man who is not her husband is considered immoral. The man at the reception sends for a boy to show us to our room. The latter is very basic and furnished with a bed, a table and a couple of chairs. The Prince offers to let me sleep on the bed and uses part of the bed linen to make sleeping arrangements for himself on the floor. We bid each other goodnight and retire for the night. After the experience of travelling with the Prince, I am beginning to nurture positive feelings for him. Just as I am about to fall asleep, the Prince suddenly jumps on to my bed. I cannot believe what he is up to. As I open my mouth to scream, he clamps his hand over my mouth and asks me to keep quiet. He whispers to me that somebody is at the door and asks me to hide under the bed. As the window is closed, it is pitch dark. The Prince quickly leaps up and lands on the beam just under the ceiling. The door creaks open. I peep from under the hem of the bed cover and watch two masked men, dressed in black, enter the room. One is carrying a crooked sabre and the other, a glittering dagger. Both weapons give off flashes of light. The intruders start searching the room as if they are looking for something. Without warning, the Prince launches himself from the beam above and stretching both legs, kicks the masked man carrying the dagger. At the same time, he wrenches the masked man’s waist by locking his legs around it. The man is in such pain that he passes out and keels over. Before the Prince can rise to his feet, the other man uses his crooked sabre to slash at his head. Having heard the swish of the sabre coming his way, the Prince cleverly ducks, just in time. Thus, he not only manages to avoid the blow, but also picks up the dagger left on the floor by the other masked man who is now unconscious. The Prince swings the dagger at the second masked man and drives it deep into his chest. The man falls to the floor and remains motionless. The Prince pulls me out from under the bed, and we run out of the inn as fast as we can. We both suspect that the two intruders were looking for the land-ownership deed. Whoever gets hold of the document can declare himself the owner. The Prince is aware of how utterly exhausted I am. Once again, he grasps me by the waist and carries me along with him by using his light-step skill. We travel a long way until we reach what look like the ruins of a temple. We go inside. The place appears to be deserted. We spend the night there. This time, confusing thoughts don’t trouble me. And soon, I am in the depths of slumber. When I wake up, it is late morning already. We leave the temple and continue our journey, in a hurry now to reach the Magic Lake. CHAPTER 6 Following several days of travel, we reach a village. It is almost noon and we stop over to have a meal. As we are walking past the main street, we notice that most of the people here look depressed and worried. As we are in a hurry, we do not try to find out why. We enter a restaurant and order some food. The waiter informs us that no meat is available. All they have is vegetables. I cannot contain my curiosity and ask him what has happened to make everyone in the village so miserable. “Recently,” he explains, “all the newborn calves and sheep have gone missing. Day before yesterday, one of our villagers, Dundy, decided to keep watch after a calf had been born in his farm. He kept the calf in the barn, making sure that the doors were properly bolted so that the animal could not be stolen. In the early hours, he saw from the window a woman with long, thick white hair approaching the barn. Using her bare hands, she twisted the chain at one of the doors and snapped it. Then she approached the calf. Dundy immediately crouched down and tried to protect it by wrapping his body and arms around it. The white-haired woman raised her right palm and struck his back twice. He immediately felt a sharp pain travel all over his body and could not move or speak. He saw the white-haired woman then lifted the calf from the ground with unbelievable ease and disappeared at once, as if into thin air. “When Dundy regained his ability to move, he called out for help. His fellow villagers left the warmth of their beds to find out what had happened. After listening to his description of the white-haired woman, they were all certain she had been trained in the martial arts. They vowed to unite and defend their animals. Collecting whatever weapons they could lay their hands on, like spades, hoes and machetes, they began looking for the white-haired woman. But though they searched the entire village and the neighbouring areas, they could not find her. There was neither sight nor sound of the white-haired woman. As for Dundy’s calf, it seemed to have vanished. “The next day, Dundy was very ill and kept complaining about the pain in his back and chest. The village chief came to examine him and found two black palm prints on his back. The chief had been living here all his life and he knew at once who the culprit was and why she had chosen to do what she had done.” The food we had ordered arrives. While we are eating it, the waiter continues with his story. “A long time ago, there was a woman whose knowledge of the martial arts had reached a level of supremacy that was difficult to match. However, she longed to be invincible. Still not content with the level of her skills, she wanted to improve on them further. After many years of hard work and practice, she managed to develop a combat technique that she styled as Iron Palms. Whenever she struck a person with her palms, she succeeded in instantly fracturing every bone of his body. Anxious, however, to become the unbeaten champion in the world of martial arts, she rushed through her practice and on to the next level of attainable skills even before she could master the existing one. Again, while developing her technique, she was overcome by the anxiety to excel and failed to retain her composure. As a result, the inner energy coursing through her veins and nervous system refused to be contained and went haywire. The more she practised, the more serious was the damage she did to her inner energy. As a result, her nerves were shot to pieces and, ultimately, she was driven insane. “Dundy is now in critical condition and will die soon, as no one in the village knows how to save him. And more young animals will be taken away by this insane woman.” Having heard out the waiter, the Prince asks him for directions to Dundy’s place, as he believes he might be able to cure the ailing man. I am quite impressed by the Prince’s kindheartedness and forthright attitude. The waiter leads the way and I follow them both. When we reach Dundy’s place, the village chief is still there. The Prince explains to him the purpose of the visit. The chief is prepared to allow him to treat the sick man, since there is no hope of saving him anyway. Having examined Dundy, the Prince asks the people gathered there to help the patient to sit up and remove his shirt. He asks for silence, then sits down calmly behind Dundy, facing his back. He draws nine deep, long breaths before placing his palms firmly against Dundy’s back. Although the Prince appears motionless, I know that he is putting in tremendous effort to mobilize his inner energy to cure Dundy. After a few minutes, the Prince starts sweating. His hands, I notice, are vibrating. As steam comes out from his palms, Dundy opens his eyes. “He should feel better now,” says his saviour. “He just needs a few days of rest before he can get up.” When we are preparing to leave Dundy’s place, the village chief reminds everybody of the problem that is still facing the whole village. If she is not apprehended, the hideous white-haired monster will continue to remove small animals from the village and the villagers will continue to suffer from her depredations. He goes on to inform us that the creature lives in a cave on Ghost Mountain, about twenty miles north of the village. The villagers beg the Prince to have pity on them and catch the monster on their behalf. Being a just man with a heart of gold, he agrees to tame her. The village chief offers to lead us to the creature’s lair. Several village marshals also offer to assist the Prince in trapping her. We set out on our new mission and walk for about two hours before arriving at a huge cave. As we enter it, everybody shivers involuntarily. For strolling along the pathway to the inner cave are the spirits of animals! The cave is dimly lit with fire torches. Before we have even reached the other end, a loud, hysterical laugh greets us. “Are you all marching willingly to your deaths?” asks a chilling voice. “Ha, ha, ha!” There is no doubt in our minds that the voice belongs to the white-haired woman we are pursuing. Suddenly, she flashes right in front of us, staring at each of us in turn. Her teeth are clenched and her bulging eyes glitter with an evil light. Her thick white hair flies around her head like a spider’s web and her hands wiggle constantly. When my eyes meet hers, I experience the frightening sensation of a chill going down my spine and I have to avert my eyes to avoid the intensity of her terrifyingly piercing gaze. The Prince looks nervous and asks us all to step aside. He leaps towards me and whispers that the moment he yells, “Heeeeee!”, I must apply my index and middle fingers with full force to the pressure point in the back of the white-haired monster’s neck. He explains that if I use my strength in the appropriate manner, the force flowing down my fingers and on to the pressure point on the monster’s neck will temporarily paralyze her. Confused and frightened by the turn of events, I am about to refuse. But the Prince has already launched himself in the monster’s direction and initiated a fight. The white-haired monster is enraged and roars at the Prince. The latter immediately strikes out with his palms and attacks his opponent. She retaliates by stretching out her palms as well. When both pairs of palms come into contact, the impact is intense enough to fling both the Prince and his opponent thirty feet backwards. Suddenly, it seems as though the combat were taking place in slow motion. Their hands look glued to each other’s, almost as if they were magnets, and the rumbling noise from the friction is deep and low. For nearly half an hour, the two are locked in combat and the white-haired woman seems to be gaining the upper hand. The Prince is apparently not as strong as she is, because much of his energy has been dissipated the day before in curing Dundy. I notice that he is retreating steadily, step by step. At that moment, he calls out: “Heeeeee!” At the signal, I leap towards the monster while she has her back to me. With all my might, I apply my right index and middle fingers on the pressure point at the back of her neck. Before the monster can realize what I have done, she is already paralyzed. The Prince wastes no time and attacks another pressure point in the monster’s chest to make sure she has no resistance left in her. Then he lowers himself to the ground, utterly exhausted. After the Prince has sufficiently recovered from the ordeal, he reaches out and applies force on several vital pressure points on the monster’s body. Within a matter of minutes, her hair turns black and her expression is no longer fierce. In fact, she is now smiling and looks like a kind-hearted woman. The Prince explains that he has drained all the powerful inner energy that had played havoc with her nervous system, causing her to run amok. CHAPTER 7 Having travelled for about a month, we can feel the weather getting warmer by the day. We also see shrubs and trees breaking out in blossoms. As mountains appear in the distance, the Prince tells me we have reached the north. The landscape is beautiful, with trees of multi-hued foliage growing on different mountains. Some trees bear scarlet leaves, others green. Yet others are covered with gold leaves. As I admire them, I cannot help feeling that human beings alone are not treated unfairly by nature; even landscapes are. For the landscape unfolding before our eyes is infinitely more charming than those we have passed through in the previous month. The Prince assures me that we will soon be reaching the mountains where, hopefully, we will find the Magic Lake. We continue with the journey and finally reach the mountains where there are several beautiful lakes. The water is so clear that I can see the fish swimming beneath the surface. With the blue sky and the trees in all their multi-coloured splendour reflected in the water, the lakes shimmer with a golden brilliance. But which of them is the Magic Lake? “Surely, the Magic Lake has special features to distinguish it from others,” I mutter. “You may be right,” the Prince replies. “Let’s look for one that is different from the others.” We walk past several lakes and across several valleys, but fail to see any lake with special or distinctive features. As we walk along, we reached a patch of land which is covered with grass that glitters in the sunlight. “This is unusual,” I remark. Then, as I look further, I notice something that excites me. “Look!” I exclaim, “there is a lake with a fountain in the centre! It must be the Magic Lake! What should we do? Should we leap over the water to the fountain and see what happens? It may be the entrance to the Magic Lake, for all we know.” “All right,” the Prince agrees. “May I carry you over the water to the fountain by applying the light steps?” I eagerly nod my consent. The moment we touch down on the fountain, it is transformed before our eyes into a fire-breathing dragon. This happens so suddenly that I’m taken unawares. Fortunately for me, the Prince is prompt to react and dives straight into the water with me in his arms. As soon as we plunge into the water, the Prince exclaims, “Oh, look! That must be the gate to the Magic Lake.” He is pointing, I realize, to a sparkling gate a few yards away. Without giving me any time to consider his words, he takes my hands firmly, and lovingly, I feel, in his before leading me towards the gate. Having swum past the gate, we enter a transparent tunnel through which we drift along with the current. A few minutes later, the tunnel becomes very narrow and the Prince and I have to hold each other tightly in order to squeeze through. We are so close that I can hear his heart beat. Although the water around me is cool, I can feel myself blush. I can also sense the heat emanating from my body. I have never experienced such sensations before and wonder whether I have fallen in love with the Prince. I can only hope that he does not notice the way I am blushing. After a while, the feeling changes to one of sweetness and tranquillity and I allow myself to just relax in his arms as I cling to him tightly in the water. I must definitely be in love with him, I tell myself. After drifting through the tunnel for another 200 feet, we reach a door made of seashells. It opens automatically, and we find ourselves in a large chamber, somewhat like a hall in a palace. Not too far away is a huge mirror. We approach it and accidentally catch a glimpse of our reflections in it. Wow, the sight is a real shock! I can hardly recognize myself I’m so pretty. My eyes and eye brows have turned to beautiful half moon shape instead of the old slity eyes. My lip has turned to a small fuller lip and my skin has turned to translucent pink colour. My long silky and wavy hair remain the same. I turn to look at the Prince. He looks so handsome! All the scars on his face have disappeared and his features are irresistibly appealing. He has big bright eyes, curly hair, distinctive and well balanced nose and mouth. He does not, however, utter a word about my transformation. “Does he not care for me at all?” I wonder silently. He has made no comment on his own transformation either. Not a single word. He is so composed about it all! Before we can express our feelings about what we have just observed, a procession passes by. It is led by a man on a sedan chair that is carried by nearly a dozen crabs and several octopuses. The man looks like a very important person. The procession halts in the middle of the chamber next to a throne decorated with pearl ornaments. The sedan chair is lowered and the man steps out. He approaches the throne and seats himself on it. “Welcome to the Sea Palace,” he declares. “I am the Emperor of the Sea Kingdom. I think it is fate that has brought you here. Please stay for a few days as my guests. Come, let me introduce you to my daughter, Precious Pearl.” At his words, a young woman steps forward. She is very beautiful, like an angel from heaven. Precious Pearl bows to us. I notice how the Prince is staring at her without batting his eyelids even once. The Princess is dressed in a beautiful flowing gown of turquoise which shimmers with a clarity that reminds me of the ocean deflecting the rays of the sun. Seashells shaped like petals are woven into her hair and every step of hers produces a mesmerizing swish. So light, so pure, so peaceful and so feminine, I can’t help thinking. Although I consider myself pretty now, Precious Pearl’s beauty is unrivalled. My heart sinks at the thought. The Prince and I stay in the Sea Palace for a few days. Most of the time, though, he chooses to keep the Princess company and I am left to my own devices. Having a pretty face, I realize, is not that exciting after all. One day, the Prince and I are summoned to see the Emperor. When we reach his chamber, the Emperor declares to him, “I believe it is fate that has brought you here. Coincidentally, my daughter has reached the right age for marriage. Now that she has found you, would you like to marry her? She is very precious to me and you must assure me that you will love her dearly.” I can see the Prince’s face glowing with happiness. “Yes, Your Majesty,” he tells the Emperor, “the moment you presented her to me, it was love at first sight. I promise to stay with her forever, till death do us part.” Then he adds, “Before I marry Precious Pearl, may I have your permission to go to my enemy’s land for revenge? The Chief of the Black Head Tribe has destroyed my whole kingdom and killed all my people.” The Emperor nods his approval, but cautions him,“You must return here to marry my daughter as soon as your personal business is taken care of.” Keeping my personal sadness well-hidden, I congratulate the Prince. He gazes at me and something in his expression indicates that he can sense my concern over the uncertainty of my future. He suggests that I should master the martial arts and recommends his aunt as a teacher. “My aunt is a great master in the martial arts,” he tells me. “Although one of her arms was slashed in a fight, her combat skills had reached their peak when it happened.” I thank him before retiring to my room. The next morning, the Prince gives me a recommendation letter to take to his aunt who lives on Swan Mountain. As we leave the Sea Kingdom, we bid farewell to the Emperor and the Princess. Once we are back on land, we go our separate ways. I, for my part, make my way to Swan Mountain. Before bidding each other farewell, I am overcome with sadness at the thought of being parted from the Prince. He is aware of my despondency and promises that we will be meeting again. He suggests we meet at the Magic Lake two year from now. He has given me hope and I agree to his suggestion. CHAPTER 8 On the way to Swan Mountain, I dress like a man to avoid attracting undue attention. The pretty girl I am now become would not be very safe travelling on her own. I do not know for how long I travel and how many days go by. But I do know that I will be passing my homeland soon. Suddenly, a chill pierces my heart. Despite the fear of being recognized, curiosity impels me to visit my village. I want to find out all that has happened at home in my absence after I ran away. I carry on for several more days until my village comes into view. I walk bravely in its direction, making sure at the same time that I do look like a man. Dawn is breaking and in the half-light, no one seems to recognize me. Suddenly, I hear a commotion. I turn round and see a group of young girls being chained together. Abiding by their old custom, the villagers are busy shackling together girls who suffer the misfortune of being plain before throwing them into the sea as a sacrifice to the Eternal God. It dawns on me then that I have been away for exactly a year. Despite my secret outrage at what I am witnessing, I follow the crowd. I observe some girls in the front being led to a small hut. They are pushed into the dwelling and the door is secured from outside with a large padlock. I overhear one of the villagers telling the others that as it is getting dark, they will perform the sacrifice ceremony the following day. My heart goes out to those girls. After all, they are not responsible for the way they look. An idea races through my mind: I will rescue all those girls and take them with me to Swan Mountain where they can master the martial arts. And one day, we can make this village pay for the injustice they have done to young girls like them. I stay away from the crowd, hiding in a bush about 200 yards from the huts. I wait until late into the night. After I have made sure that nobody is around, I come out to look for a tool so that I can break the padlock. I decide to go to the wood, hoping to find an axe. Luckily, I find one which I think must be left behind by a villager. Then I go in and tell the girls I have come to release them. They are so happy to hear this that they break down in tears. With the eight of them following me, I tiptoe out of the hut. We make for the woods and walk on until my village is out of sight. We spend the night in the woods and just before dawn, we set out for Swan Mountain. Travelling for several days at a stretch, we finally reach the foot of the mountain. We cannot see the peak as it is obscured by a thick veil of clouds. It takes us two days to reach the village perched on the summit. After we have recovered from our exertions, we notice a walled complex. We walk up to the entrance and I knock on the door. An elderly lady dressed like a servant opens it. I explain to her that we have come to see the Prince’s aunt and mention the recommendation letter addressed to her. We are invited to enter the complex. We pass a square courtyard flanked by a chamber on either side. The courtyard is cold and lonely. We are ushered into a chamber on the eastern side. Not long afterwards, a mature-looking woman with a solemn expression steps lightly into the room. Her most noticeable feature is her missing left arm. She approaches me without uttering a word. I hand her the letter of recommendation. She is silent throughout the proceedings. I then inform her that there are eight of us and we all wish to be her pupils. I tell her of all I saw on the way to Swan Mountain and describe the cruel customs of my village, explaining why I had to leave my home. As I am doing so, the girls and I kneel before her and beg her to accept us as her pupils. “We have no future and no home to go to,” I tell her, speaking on behalf of the girls. “We have been discriminated against and deserted by our people. Although I am now pretty, thanks to the waters of the Magic Lake, I have no intentions of going back to a place where girls who are plain are sacrificed to the Eternal God and dumped in the sea. After all, the girls have done no wrong.” The Prince’s aunt speaks at last. “I do not like the company of others,” she declares. “I have been living here on my own for over ten years now. I only have Ah Ming to serve me. Now that I have you girls here, maybe it is time to start a martial-arts clan and build a new empire of my own. I will therefore form a clan and call it the Swan Clan. I will recruit more female pupils and train them.” “You are our godmother,” we tell her. “We will wait on you and serve you and learn the martial arts from you diligently.” Then I summon up the courage to ask her, “What shall we call you?” “I am your master,” she declares arrogantly. “Address me as Master Swan.” CHAPTER 9 Each of the girls is given a new name. Everyone’s name begins with “Swan”. My new name is Swan Beauty. We are instructed to stay in the West Chamber. Before dawn, we are up performing our assigned tasks: cleaning, washing, cooking and so on. After our morning meal, we are to follow Master Swan to the front yard to receive martial-arts training. Master Swan fights with a dancing ribbon and she is extremely proficient in wielding it as a weapon with her single arm. An ordinary person normally uses a dance ribbon when she is performing a ribbon dance. But Master Swan can turn the ribbon into a powerful whip with a force behind it. In the afternoon, we have to go outside the complex and practise what we have learnt in the morning. This is to ensure our direct communion with nature. In the evening, we have to read and memorize the techniques of each step of the martial- arts sequence. It is all very hard work, but Master Swan always insists that learning the martial arts is a mindset and everyone should adopt a can-do attitude. She makes it clear that anyone lacking perseverance and determination will be expelled from the Swan Clan. Living as we do a disciplined life with a strict regimen, we make good progress. We are also taught the light-step skill. I become quite proficient in the use of my dance ribbon. There is one strict rule by which we have to abide: we are not allowed to fall in love with men. No one dares ask why. Female visitors to Swan Mountain are few and far between and there have been no male visitors at all since we arrived. I have been living on Swan Mountain for over twenty months now. The date of my reunion with the Prince is fast approaching. I have to concoct a plausible excuse for leaving Master Swan and making the journey to the Magic Lake. After much hesitation, I manage to drum up the courage to see her. I tell her that I have promised to attend the wedding ceremony of her nephew, the Prince, who is to be married to Precious Pearl, the daughter of the Sea Emperor. I beg her to grant me a month’s leave so I can attend the wedding. In fact I realize that the Prince should be by now have married Precious Pearl six months ago. She appears most reluctant to let me go, but as it happens to be her nephew’s wedding, she grants me permission to be away for a month. She repeats, however, that the moment the ceremony is over, I must return to Swan Mountain without delay. I happily pack my simple garments and, on the following day, am on my way to the Magic Lake. Having delayed seeking Master Swan’s permission until the last moment, I must now travel without a break in order to reach the Magic Lake on time to meet the Prince. I long to see him again. However, a night before I am due to reach the Lake, the moon is suddenly eclipsed by a large shadow and darkness descends on the world. Strong gales prevent me from continuing my journey. I have no alternative but to sleep in a forest that night and hope I will make up for lost time the following day. To do so, I force myself to run as fast as I can for the next few days. After all that effort, I eventually manage to reach the Lake, but I am already two days late. From afar, I observe Precious Pearl standing by the shore of the Lake, gazing at the sky like a forlorn child. I approach her at a run using my light-step skill, as I am eager to see the Prince who must be there with her. I am horrified to find, however, that Precious Pearl has turned to stone. And the Prince is nowhere in sight. I stand there, stunned and motionless. I decide to wait awhile. Perhaps, the Prince is late too? I sit down and wait by the Princess’ stone statue until sunset. I feel haunted by the sight of that statue and decide to find out what might have happened. I leave the Magic Lake and set out in the direction of a village located several miles away. By the time I reach it, my stomach is rumbling with hunger. So I stop at a little food stall and have a quick bite. While I’m doing so, I get hold of a waiter and enquire about the stone statue by the Lake. He tells me that about six months ago, there was an announcement from the Sea Palace that the Princess would be getting married on a particular date. Everybody living within a hundred miles of the Magic Lake was thrilled by the news. On the designated wedding day , the Prince of a distant kingdom failed to appear. The Princess was so eager to see the Prince that she had started appearing on the shore of the Magic Lake to wait for the return of her fiancé. She waited and waited, three months had past and the Prince did not turn up. The Princess was heartbroken and cried all night. As the tears drained out of her body, she turned to stone a few nights ago.” The waiter goes on to relate how watching the Princess weep made the moon feel so ashamed that she hid herself. In the process, all her beauty was obscured. In fact, all living things around the Magic Lake grieved for the Princess. Having heard out the waiter, I understood why a shadow had passed over the moon and a fearful storm had taken place a few evenings back, forcing me to spend the night in the forest and preventing me from continuing my journey to the Magic Lake. At this point, I am in no position to analyze my feelings. On the one hand, Precious Pearl’s misfortune has saddened me. On the other, however, I am secretly delighted by the sudden turn of events that has set the Prince free from his obligation to marry the Princess. Then it suddenly occurs to me that I still do not know why he has failed to turn up in time for his marriage. I recall how he had talked of his plans to avenge himself against the Chief of the Black Head Tribe. Could he have been killed in the attempt? The moment this terrifying thought flashes through my mind, I feel the weight of a large rock bearing down on my chest till I can hardly breathe. Since darkness has fallen by now, I decide to spend the night in the village, promising myself that I will find the Prince, no matter how long it takes me to do so. I cannot prevent myself, however, from dwelling gloomily on the possibility of the Prince being either dead or imprisoned by his enemy. I set off the very next day. It will be a long, arduous journey, scaling mountains and crossing valleys. But with my martial-arts skills, I have much more confidence in myself now. My light steps will help me to travel faster as well. I run without a pause until I come to a little town. In the market place there, I notice a very pretty woman in a body-hugging dress that bares a great deal of breast. She is talking to a young man. From their expressions and body language, it is clear that she is flirting with him. I find the sight of women flirting a real eyesore. I approach them to see what exactly she is up to and find myself racking my brains to recall where I have seen her before. Then it strikes me: she is the snake witch who had tried to befriend the Prince in the guise of a woman. I remember how she had been so shocked by his scarred face that she had turned herself back into a snake again. I rush to where the snake witch and the young man are standing. I must try and stop him from falling into her trap. “Run!” I yell at the young man. “She is a snake witch. The moment you go to her house, she will suck out your blood.” The young man does not seem to believe me. I whip out my dancing ribbon and flick it towards the snake witch in an attempt to coil it around her body. She whirls away to avoid contact with it and changes instantly back into a snake. She then flies at my neck, but I am swift enough to lash out at her with my ribbon, using it like a whip. The blow I deal her is a fatal one. She falls to the ground, dead. The young man is still in shock. After I have managed to comfort him, I leave the town and continue on my way to find the Black Head Tribe. Is it only the appearance of a woman that attracts a man ? What about the inner self, can it charm a man too? I ask myself. When I reach the place where they live, evening has already descended. At the inn where I put up for the night, I quickly change into a black outfit to avoid detection in the dark and make my way to the Tribe’s base. Having reached it, I leap up on to the roof of a house, one of several in the big complex occupied by the Tribe. Creeping stealthily along the roofs of the mansions, I fail to find anything remotely resembling a prison. This makes me rather despondent. Moments later, however, sweet music wafts out from one of the houses on my right. So does the smell of fragrance. Curiosity impels me to follow the direction of the music and soon, I find myself near one of the wings of a large mansion. I concentrate all my inner energy, pour it into my right index finger and poke a hole through the roof of the building. I peep through it and am shocked to find the Prince sitting solemnly on a chair. Before him is a young woman playing a qing. From the look of her, I gather she must be in her early twenties. I notice that she is elegantly dressed. Incense burns in the room. The moonlight outside is bright and in the distance, I see guards patrolling the vast compound. I decide not to take any action now and remain sitting on the roof, waiting for a chance to speak to the Prince. As far as I can tell from my perch, no conversation is being exchanged between him and the young woman. I must have become so tired waiting up here for hours that I probably dozed off, because I am woken up by the sound of heavy footsteps. When I look down through the hole in the roof, I see three guards enter the room and take the Prince away. It is a mystery to me as to why he does not resist them. After all, his martial-arts skills are advanced enough for him to engineer his release and escape. Instinct tells me I should follow the guards and see where they are taking the Prince. The group walks along for about a mile before reaching a barrack. They go inside and lock the Prince into one of the prison cells there. I decide to survey the area first before attempting anything; there might well be mechanical traps around. A while later, I decide to enter the prison. I notice three guards standing before a particular prison cell. I immediately strike them unconscious with my ribbon and walk quietly towards the cell where they have locked up the Prince. Water is dripping from the roof of the cell, but he does not seem to be aware of it. I stand before the bars and wave at him, but it takes him a while to respond. We both lapse into silence for a moment. Then the Prince asks, “How did you find me here?” “It is a long story. Let’s quickly get out of here while the guards are still unconscious,” I suggest. Inside, I am jumping for joy at having found the Prince. However, I realize how dangerous our predicament is and that I need to harness all my survival instincts and keep my mind alert as if I were a hunted animal. “Come, follow me,” I say, offering the Prince my hand. Although I am still wondering why he is so weak, I don’t ask him any questions. I know that our most important mission now is to escape. I quickly wrench a sword out of the grasp of one of the unconscious guards and hand it to the Prince. Then we leave the prison cell. On our way out of the barracks, we must contend with a large number of guards rushing at us. We put up a ferocious fight. But the Prince seems to be strangely out of his depth. Considering his weakened physical condition and the number of guards we have to fight off, I yell out to the Prince that we should use thunder steps to escape. He understands right away and nods in agreement. This special technique, practised in his family, is something I have learnt from his aunt. We stamp our feet heavily on the ground using all our inner energy and crawl swiftly underground and through the earth like a snake to a safe place. And that is how we finally escape from the prison and end up in a dense forest. After getting my breath back, I tell the Prince how I found him and what had happened to Precious Pearl. At first, he is incredulous. Knowing, however, that I am an honest person, he accepts what I have said and tries to convince himself that it is the bitter truth by questioning me repeatedly about it. He is deeply saddened by the fate of Precious Pearl and vows to kill the Chief of the Black Head Tribe who had prevented him from returning to the Magic Lake in time for the wedding. He then recounts what he has been through after he reached the complex where the Black Head Tribe lived. “I had stealthily made my way to the Chief’s bedroom and tried to kill him with sleepy smoke while he was still in bed,” he begins. “When I approached his bed, however, he was alert enough to seize his scimitar in one quick movement, jump out of bed and attack me. I struck him back smartly with my three-joint stick. After a few such thrusts had been exchanged and I had just found an opportunity of striking him on the neck with my three- joint stick, I felt something sharp penetrate my abdomen. In seconds, I had blacked out. When I regained consciousness, I found myself lying on a bed in a girl’s room. Titi, the daughter of the Black Head Tribe Chief, was sitting by me. She told me how she had saved me from certain death. Apparently, her father who knew that he could not defeat me in open combat had resorted to subterfuge and let fly a hidden spear from his scimitar. The weapon had hit its mark and nearly killed me. “Titi continued that it was she who had pleaded for my life and nursed my wound as well. I was not at all grateful for the favour she had done me. I suspected she might have a hidden agenda. Besides, I would rather have been dead than alive to see my enemy thriving. I asked Titi frankly what she wanted from me. She confessed that she had never seen a more charming man than me and wanted to marry me. I turned down her proposal and, therefore, ended up in prison. During my year-long imprisonment, she persisted in her efforts to persuade me to marry her, although I told her repeatedly that there could be no love between us. After all, her father and his followers had killed all my people and destroyed my kingdom. She refused to heed my words and insisted that I belonged to her, because it was she who had saved my life. She was convinced that I would, eventually, grow to love her one day.” The Prince also tells me that during his long incarceration, he had been forbidden to do any kind of exercise, not to mention practising his martial-arts skills. That is why he feels so weak and sluggish and certain parts of his body have become numb. CHAPTER 10 “Now what should we do?” I ask him. “Why don’t we go to the White Land which was awarded to you after you had won the martial-arts contest? We can then decide on our next course of action. We don’t seem to have any other option now, for you need to regain your strength and your normal level of fitness.” “What about you?” the Prince enquires. “Don’t you need to return to Swan Mountain?” “I ought to, and I should be returning within a month,” I tell him, “but I have left Master Swan for over a month now. I am not sure how she would deal with me if I returned. I am a bit scared to go back on my own.” “Let’s not worry about it now,” the Prince tells me. “We will start the journey to the White Land early tomorrow morning.” We stay overnight at an inn located in a remote area. On the way to the White Land, the Prince is very quiet. I can feel him grieving for Precious Pearl. Still heartbroken over his loss, he blames himself for the tragedy that has befallen the Princess. Two days later, we reach the White Land. Flowers and fruits seem to grow in profusion everywhere and there is a river running through the territory. By the river, obviously abandoned, is a pair of beautifully-carved boats, each with its own canopy. We quickly set to work, collecting all the logs we can find in the area to start building a house. After camping there for a week, we manage to complete it. The Prince works day and night to assuage his grief over the Princess’ demise. Though it seems unkind of me to entertain such thoughts, I am extremely happy to have him all to myself. After all this time spent together, I still cannot be sure, though, about his feelings for me. Of course, this is hardly the appropriate time to bring up the subject. Furthermore, I am much too shy to initiate such a conversation in the first place. We make it a point to set up a routine and practise our martial-arts skills every morning before we do anything else. The Prince is still firm in his resolve to take revenge on the Chief of the Black Head Tribe one day. He practises his martial-arts skills with his three-joint stick while I continue practising mine with my dancing ribbon. But somehow, I am unable to make much progress and attain a higher level of performance. One day, just as we are beginning to enjoy the tranquillity of the place, a deep, thundering noise comes from the river. An enormous crocodile in a uniform emerges from the water and I recognize him instantly. He is one of the sea officers from the Sea Kingdom. “You are in a position of deep obligation to our Sea Emperor,” he announces to the Prince. “Because of your failure to return to the Princess in time, she has turned into a stone statue. Our Emperor wishes to see justice done. He has, therefore, summoned me and my fellow sea guards and entrusted us with the duty of flooding the White Land.” The Prince and I are absolutely stunned by this message. Before we can explain the chain of events that had conspired to prevent the Prince from arriving in time for his wedding to Precious Pearl, the level of the river rises rapidly. Tsunami-type waves swirl up and rush towards us. Utterly horrified by these developments, we waste no time in using our light-steps skill to leap to safety on the treetops around us. I settle on one tree while the Prince does the same on another. The water, wave upon wave of it, lashes against the trees, causing them to swing from side to side. After a while, the wind dies down and the waves subside and the place is calm once again. But the land has been completely devastated. All the plants have been uprooted and the ground torn to pieces. We jump down from our respective treetops and contemplate with sadness the kind of havoc the Sea Emperor has wreaked in his determination to take revenge on us. “What shall we do now?” I ask, appalled. “It is impossible to rebuild this place and restore it to its original state.” “Let’s go to Swan Mountain and get help,” the Prince suggests. Having failed to abide by my promise to go back to Master Swan within the stipulated time, I am afraid of returning to face her. However, as I wish to be with the Prince, I reluctantly agree to his proposal and follow him. I keep my feelings of unease to myself. We travel for three days to reach the house perched on the summit of Swan Mountain. The person who answers the door is Swan Orchid, one of the girls I had rescued from my village. She is surprised to see us both and shoots many questions at me. “What happened to you?” she asks anxiously. “Where were you? What took you so long to return? Master Swan is quite upset about it all.” I am in no mood to offer explanations. I am far too frightened to face Master Swan. “Your Master Swan is my aunt,” the Prince interrupts. “Please tell her I have come to see her.” From Swan Orchid’s expression, it is clear that this is a complete mystery to her. Finally, she says, “Please come this way. I will announce your arrival to Master Swan.” As I enter the building, I am really nervous. My legs are trembling. I am expecting judgement to be delivered soon. Master Swan comes in. “My dear aunt,” says the Prince, “I have come to ask for your help. After all, you are the only surviving relative I have.” “Do take a seat,” Master Swan tells him. She flicks me a stern glance, then ignores me completely. I stand back and allow the Prince to narrate to his aunt the details of all that has transpired. He recounts how the Black Head Tribe destroyed his kingdom and killed his family members and his people. He also tells her about his failure to avenge himself against the Black Head Chief and his subsequent imprisonment on the orders of Titi, the Chief’s daughter. The moment Master Swan hears about the Chief of the Black Head Tribe, she becomes very agitated and starts shooting questions at her nephew about the man and his daughter. Her expression is suffused with anger. “I was lucky that Swan Beauty came to my rescue,” the Prince continues. “When I was about to rebuild my kingdom in the White Land, the Sea Emperor took revenge on me and destroyed it completely.” While he is busy relating the story to Master Swan, I realize that there are many more girls than there were at the time I left Swan Mountain. Master Swan, I surmise, must have recruited more pupils to expand her clan. Dinner is served. Master Swan and the Prince sit at one table. I sat at another with my fellow pupils. After the meal is over, Master Swan makes a solemn announcement. “I was married to the Chief of the Black Head Tribe for twenty-five years,” she declares. “We had a daughter called Titi. One day, I caught my husband in bed with a young woman who was my pupil. I was furious enough at the discovery to want to kill them both at once. However, they pre-empted my move to strike the first blow with my dancing ribbon and fought me off in unison. After engaging in combat, I felt a sudden pain in my left shoulder. When I managed to glance down at it, I saw that my left arm had been chopped off. I was so heartbroken at what had been done to me and felt so betrayed that I retreated and left home forever. Before I did so, I carried away a pair of love swords my mother had left me. A mighty pair of swords, these can only achieve peak performance when wielded by a couple whose hearts are attuned to each other’s.” Master Swan’s account makes it very clear to us all why she hates men and does not want any of her pupils to get married. She has still not addressed a single word to me nor broached the subject of my long-delayed return to Swan Mountain. The next day, we all go for our martial- arts lessons as usual. Several months have gone by and I am anxious to know about the Prince’s plans for the future. I also miss the time we spent together on our own in the White Land before the Sea Emperor organized the attack on us. There are so many of my fellow pupils around me that I just cannot find an opportunity to talk to the Prince alone. Although we engage in our activities together, I have noticed the Prince talking to Swan May in a tender manner on several occasions. When he does so, they seem quite engrossed in each other. It makes me feel a bit jealous. Swan May is one of the girls I rescued from my hometown and she is not good-looking by any stretch of the imagination. During my stay on Swan Mountain, I found her to be a very sensible and kind-hearted person. From his expression, I am able to gauge that the Prince is attracted to Swan May. I fail to understand how he could have succumbed to her charms when I, a beauty now, after my dip in the Magic Lake, have spent so much time with him. I keep wondering what prevents our relationship from progressing to a stage where he might express his love and tender feelings for me. Brooding over such matters fills me with despair. One day, Master Swan asks us all to congregate in the courtyard. She declares that after suffering in solitude for so many years, she has decided to take revenge against the Chief of the Black Head Tribe for the injustice he has done her. She also intends to help the Prince settle his personal scores against the Chief. She explains that the lovers’ swords her mother had left her are a pair of male and female swords. They have magic powers that can be released when the swords are used by two lovers whose hearts are one. Master Swan then hands over the male sword to the Prince and asks him to try using it while being partnered by each of her pupils, in turn, armed with the female sword. The test begins. As the Prince tries out the sword with each of the girls, it seems that none can wield the female sword effectively and elegantly. When my turn arrives, I am full of confidence that I will be the most suitable person for using the female sword. I apply all my combat techniques, so painstakingly learnt, to the female sword and the Prince joins in with its male counterpart. But after a few exchanges, it is apparent that the pair of swords lacks compatibility. I am deeply disappointed, but from the Prince’s expression, it is evident that he isn’t surprised at all. I return to my place. When it is Swan May’s turn, she springs up, light as a feather, and plays the female sword so dexterously with the Prince’s male one that both weapons are flying in unison like a pair of fierce eagles. With their light-footed steps, the Prince and Swan May seem like airborne butterflies enjoying each other’s company. Yet, their swordplay is so mesmerizingly powerful that we can feel the energy emanating from the swirls and clashes of their weapons. Everyone is enthralled by the display, including Master Swan. Everyone applauds, except me. CHAPTER 11 We train vigorously for nearly six months in order to reach a level of achievement that is acceptable to Master Swan. One of the weapons we devote particular attention to is the dancing ribbon specifically suited to female combatants. Master Swan has also taught us how to form a Yin-Yang combat formation, where we have to attack or defend ourselves in designated positions within the formation that changes in keeping with the nature of the enemy offensive and adapts itself accordingly. The purpose of forming the Yin-Yang combat formation is to prevent ourselves from being taken unawares by the enemy as well as to ambush the enemy. At last, the day arrives for us to make our journey to the land of the Black Head Tribe. With Master Swan leading the way, virtually all her pupils follow her, as do Swan May and the Prince. We have to travel for two weeks before we reach our destination. We rest for the night and shortly before daybreak, set out for the Chief’s mansion. Once we have located it, Master Swan and half the members of our team spring up to the roof and start searching for Black Head’s bedroom. As we have been trained to move lightly, we are able to leap effortlessly from one section of the roof to another without making a noise. We keep removing a couple of tiles from the roof of each and every room until finally, Master Swan finds Black Head in one of the rooms. Black Head is fast asleep in his bed. Master Swan removes a few more tiles from the roof and flies down inside the room like a swallow. An experienced and skilful martial-arts fighter himself, Black Head is immediately awakened by the sound of the intrusion. As Master Swan strikes him with her powerful ribbon, Black Head is already out of bed and armed with a sword snatched from the bedpost where it was hanging. “Who are you and why are you here?” shouts Black Head, unable to recognize Master Swan. “Ha, ha!” she laughs, “today is the very last day of your life! I will be the one to send you to hell so you can atone for all your past sins.” Black Head scrutinizes Master Swan carefully. Then he notices her missing left arm and recognition dawns. “How dare you come back here!” he roars in a rage. “I had routed you in combat before. Don’t tell me you’ve learnt nothing from your humiliating defeat?” Without deigning to reply, Master Swan waves her dancing ribbon at Black Head. He moves swiftly to the side in a clever feint to avoid being lashed by the ribbon. Every blow he strikes with his sword is directed at Master Swan’s vital organs. His movements are lightning-fast, his attacks merciless. Every play of the sword is calculated to kill his opponent instantly. After a few thrusts and parries, it is evident that Black Head has gained an edge over Master Swan. He has succeeded in putting her on the defensive. Although her martial-arts skills appear to be on par with Black Head’s, her attacks are not quite as powerful as his and she is unable to wield her ribbon dexterously enough to obtain optimum results. In the meantime, while engaging in combat, they have covered the distance between the Chief’s bedroom and the courtyard and I realize what a dangerous predicament she has landed herself in. Titi must have heard the commotion. She comes out into the courtyard carrying the qing, sits down in a corner and starts playing a dangerously powerful melody on it. It strikes me suddenly, that when the tune reaches a crescendo and the tempo becomes superfast, those listening to it will start bleeding from every orifice on their faces. Master Swan has taught us all there is to know about the different kinds of weapons used in the practice of the martial arts and this is one of them. Master Swan is the first to recognize this, of course. No sooner has she heard the music from Titi’s qing than she yells out a warning to us all, commanding us to regroup in a fortress formation. While we are about it, she leaps swiftly into the centre, sits down and crosses her legs. I realize that she is trying to transfer the inner energy from her own body to her pupils’ to prevent them from being adversely affected by gradual build-up of Titi’s melody. Although Black Head tries to follow his opponent into the formation, he is intercepted by the Prince and Swan May, armed with their lovers’ swords. Concentrating though I am on the fortress formation of which I am a part, I can hear the twirl and swish of the love swords engaged in a magnificent show of resistance against Black Head. “You have destroyed my people and my land!” shouts the Prince to Black Head. “The day has come for you to pay your debt in blood to those of my subjects who are waiting for you in the other world!” “How come you’re still alive?” Black Head asks nastily. “Well, I suppose you want me to give you a hand in joining your fellow countrymen!” “Try our love swords and in no time, you will know your destiny!” the Prince retorts. The fight shows no signs of coming to an end. Then suddenly, with lightning speed, the lovers’ swords slash at Black Head. We look on, stunned, as his severed head rolls off his shoulder and falls to the ground, just before his body crumples over. Seeing her father dead, Titi rushes over to his prone body and begins weeping hysterically. Master Swan disperses the battle formation before approaching Titi. Then she discloses her identity. In a state of deep shock and hysteria, Titi is neither able to comprehend nor believe that Master Swan is, indeed, her own mother. She stares at her and insists, “I have no mother. From the time she abandoned me, she has never come to see me even once. All of you have murdered my father in cold blood. It is now my turn for revenge.” The Prince then approaches Titi in a bid to try and help Master Swan explain the circumstances which compelled her to keep away from her own daughter. But before he can utter a word, Titi looks at him and screams, “You have spurned my love and made me desperately unhappy! You are all my enemies!” Without warning, she picks up the sword that Black Head had dropped and strikes a blow at the Prince. Anticipating her move, I instantly wave my ribbon towards two pressure points located on the circles around her neck with the simple intention of paralyzing her. These pressure points are not, in fact, vital ones. However, the kind of inner energy she has had to mobilize to play that powerful melody on the qing may well have changed the position of the pressure points on her body. Furthermore, being in a state of acute hysteria and unable, therefore, to anticipate my attack from the rear, she is caught unawares. In no position to ward off the lash of my ribbon, she chokes to death the moment it strikes her on the neck. The change in position of her pressure points has, it seems, left her oesophagus completely defenceless. Master Swan is horrified by the turn of events. She immediately raises Titi to a sitting position in an attempt to restore her to life and tries to reverse the flow of her daughter’s inner energy by deploying her own against three other pressure points on the girl’s body. After ten minutes of this exercise, however, Master Swan is utterly exhausted from having used up too much of her inner energy and all her efforts are in vain. She is devastated by what has just transpired and cannot come to terms with the idea of her daughter’s death at the hands of one of her own pupils who has used to fatal effect the very skills Master Swan has trained her in. At the same time, she is furious with me for not only breaking my promise to her and staying away from Swan Mountain for months, but for being the cause of her daughter’s untimely demise. She reminds me of how I had flouted the rules laid down by her earlier and tells me that although she has no intentions of taking revenge on me for what has happened not minutes ago, she cannot allow her daughter’s assassin to live with her, train under her and be a member of her clan. She is, therefore, expelling me from the Swan Clan. I am surprised that the news does not leave me in despair as might have been expected. Instinct tells me that whether I remain in Swan Mountain or not is quite irrelevant. I cannot continue to enjoy the Prince’s company indefinitely anyway. He will, in all likelihood, marry Swan May and take possession of the land that belonged to Black Head. Helpless and despondent, I do not beg Master Swan for mercy or forgiveness. But I do make an effort to explain to her that my intentions while dealing with Titi were not malicious. All I had been trying to do was immobilize her with my ribbon. Her death had been nothing but an accident. I thank Master Swan for all that she has taught me and bid farewell to her and to all my fellow pupils. Master Swan then orders her pupils to return to Swan Mountain, promising them that she will train them to become the best female warriors ever. She also declares that the Swan Clan will become the biggest and most powerful warrior clan on earth. As for the Prince, he takes Swan May as his wife, which was only to be expected, and assumes charge of the land once occupied by Black Head. CHAPTER 12 From my experiences in the two years since I left home, I have learnt much about human beings. I have also learnt a great deal about the real world which had so much to offer. I am determined to take a more positive view of life and assume charge of my own destiny. My first resolve is to put aside my despair at the Prince’s rejection of my love for him. I will, I decide, continue my exploration of the world. I will miss no opportunity to upgrade myself in the martial arts. And one day, perhaps, I can be a saviour for ordinary people. I might even consider returning to my village to abolish the vile tradition that had made me feel rejected by the entire world and forced me to flee for my life. When I was living on Swan Mountain, Master had told us about a very famous martial arts expert on Yau Dong Mountain. Apparently, the level of his martial-arts skills was so high that few could get the better of him in combat. I decide, therefore, to travel to Yau Dong Mountain and find this great martial-arts master. I am hoping that if I am fortunate enough to be accepted as one of his pupils, I will be able to improve on my martial-arts skills and fight against injustice. After asking around for directions to Yau Dong Mountain, I travel east for about a month and reach a small, but exciting town. Here, a great crowd of people mill around. Some are selling all sorts of colourful artefacts and handicrafts. Others vend fruits and vegetables and clothes. When I walk past the centre of town, I notice a group of people gathered around a notice board. Strangely enough, all of them are men. I am drawn irresistibly to the notice board because I am keen to find out what they are looking at. I read what is written there: “Notice is hereby given that Yau Dong Mountain Martial Arts School is now inviting applications for admission. Only those who are keenly interested in the martial arts and can pass an entrance test will be admitted. The entrance test involves consecutive combat with each of the seven wooden dummies in the Combat Chamber. Only male candidates need apply.”My heart sinks at that last sentence, as though I have been doused with cold water. I cannot figure out why admission is open exclusively to men. It means that I am not eligible. In despair, I wander around town, not knowing where I am headed. I put up at an inn for the night, but once in bed, I find it impossible to fall sleep. I just cannot bring myself to believe that after undertaking such a long journey to reach this place, I am denied admission to the Yau Dong Mountain Martial Arts School simply on the basis of gender. However, I am dog-tired and, eventually, when I cease to think, I manage to fall asleep. When I wake up the following morning, the sun’s rays are already penetrating deep into my room. I go downstairs for my morning meal and notice a waiter serving the guests in the dining room. The waiter is so small and slim that for a moment I think he is a woman. A thought suddenly flashes across my mind. Why not disguise myself as a man — something I had done before when leaving my village under cover of darkness —and apply for admission to the martial-arts school? After taking my early morning meal, I leave the inn and go to the town centre. I buy several outfits and hats, all meant for men, and return to the inn. I cut my long hair very short and don the new clothes. Then I make my way to the school. When I am halfway up the mountain, I see a large sign that says, “Yau Dong Mountain Martial Arts School”. About a hundred yards up the mountain, I notice people already lining up for registration. “What name should I use to register as a student?” I ask myself. It is difficult to think of a man’s name. My hands are sweating and when my turn comes for the registration formalities, I am nervous. “My name is Swan Dang,” I say. I am then handed a paper explaining the screening procedure. It says that each applicant has to fight with three wooden puppets which are specially made to fight with human beings. Every candidate has to fight with each of the puppets in turn. Only after he has defeated all three will he be admitted to the school for training. It is a tough entrance test. With my mediocre martial-arts skills, I can only try my luck. I wait for two days before I am summoned. I am asked to enter a cave which is located behind the school’s signboard. I hide my fighting ribbon as it is too feminine a weapon to be carried by a man. CHAPTER 13 I enter the cave. It is well-lit with bright orange lanterns. I immediately take out my fighting ribbon and walk towards the door facing me. I push it open. In front of me stands a wooden puppet, about the same size as a well- built man. Remembering what Master Swan has taught us, I stand in front of the puppet and assume a combative stance, anticipating and watching its first move. No sooner have I declared myself ready than the puppet leaps up and kicks at my chest with both legs. I am so terrified, that all I can think of doing is to crouch down and roll my body towards the puppet so as to avoid the kicks. The puppet misses me and just before it can regain its posture for aiming the next kick, I flick out my ribbon with full force and whip it around the puppet’s legs. I pull at the ribbon as I rise quickly to my feet. Caught in the ribbon and unable to free itself, the wooden puppet keels over. Without waiting to recover my breath and speculate over what could be coming next, I run as fast as I can to the second door. I kick it open and am stunned to find a giant wooden puppet standing before me. While I am still staring at it, the puppet extends its large right arm to grab my left one. I swiftly straighten my ribbon, using all my might, and convert it into a very powerful whip. I strike the puppet’s right arm with the ribbon and hear a crack. The puppet’s broken forearm detaches itself and falls to the ground. I instinctively flick the ribbon at the puppet’s head and succeed in knocking it off. The puppet stomps around for a while before collapsing on the ground, making a loud roaring noise as it does so. But suddenly, a deathly silence descends on the entire room. I approach the third door cautiously, just in case there are traps or secret devices that might harm me. I push it open and see a big, empty room. There is no sign of a wooden puppet. I stand there for a while, holding my breath. I am alert to the most minute of sounds. Just as I am about to make for the exit, I realize I have been grabbed by the waist. When I spin around, I see a broad, medium-built wooden puppet standing behind me. It stretches out its arms and seizes me, then picks me off the ground and swings me from side to side. I try to struggle free, but the harder I try, the tighter the puppet’s grasp becomes. Suddenly, it throws me up with such force that I sail helplessly skywards. Then I plummet down and fall through a dark hole. By this time, I have every reason to suppose that my luck has deserted me. Fortunately, I notice light coming from the mouth of the hole. A few moments later, I hear a man shout, “Are you all right?” “Yes, I think so,” I reply, assuming the question is addressed to me. “Where am I?” “You are in a dry well. Although it is very deep, you need not be afraid. We will drop you food every day. We will also drop you a wooden board so that when it rains and the well starts filling up, you will be able to keep yourself afloat with it. When the water level is about twenty feet from the ground, we will be able to haul you up.” He enunciates every word clearly and speaks very slowly with many pauses in between. This is apparently to ensure that I can hear and understand what he has to say. “Well, isn’t it unfortunate,” I think, “that I am now stuck here in a well?” I have no alternative but to believe what the man has just told me. I sit down at the bottom of the well and lean my head sideways against the wall to get some rest. That is when I feel a wetness on the left side of my face. I wipe it with my palm and see blood come off on my hand. I quickly tear off a portion of my sleeve and press it hard against the wound to stop the bleeding. I do not know when I hurt my face. Nor do I know how deep the wound is. I sit there and feel scared. I tell myself that instead of moaning or praying for the rain to come, I had better find something to do to keep myself occupied while I am waiting to be rescued. It could be days or even weeks before I am lifted out of the well. The diameter of the well’s base is about fifteen feet and although the well is deep, the bright light pouring in through its wide mouth ensures adequate visibility. As I stare at the wall, I am very surprised to see that it bears engravings of some kind. On scrutinizing it more closely, I discover that the entire wall is covered with such engravings up to a height of eight feet. To kill time, I count the engravings and discover that altogether, there are seventy-two of them depicting creatures in different postures and arranged in rows along the wall. Now that my curiosity is aroused, I am driven to satisfy it and examine the engravings in detail. The first group of engravings follows the entire trajectory of a rabbit hopping, from the ground to the air and back again. The second displays the different postures of a leaping tiger, from the crouched position to the spring, through the airborne position and back to landing on all fours. I turn to look at the next series of images which depicts a running bull. What intrigues me most is the fact that there are six postures to represent the movements of each animal, whether hopping, leaping or running. Once I have finished studying the twelve groups of engravings, it dawns on me that the dozen animals depicted are exactly the same as the ones in the Chinese zodiac calendar. “This is most interesting!” I murmur to myself, “but why were such postures regarded so important as to deserve being engraved on the wall?” In pursuit of the answer to my question, I examine the engravings more minutely and try to follow the movements depicted in them. In doing so, I find myself following the order of the zodiac signs and imitating the movements of the animals, with the rat leading the pack, followed by the ox, the tiger, the rabbit, the dragon, the snake, the horse, the sheep, the monkey, the rooster, the dog and finally, the pig. I have been following these movements for only a few moments, when suddenly, I experience this wonderful feeling of warmth at the pressure point inside my abdomen, about three inches below my navel. Like lightning, the warmth radiates from that point to every part of my body, right up to the tips of my fingers and toes. It strikes me then that this must be an exceptionally powerful set of martial-arts skills. In seventh heaven over this discovery, I cannot contain my joy. “I have found what I want!” I shout at the top of my voice.Despite my excitement and delight, however, I know I must remain calm if I am to continue following the movements and practise this set of martial-arts skills effectively. I realize that the moment my emotions get the better of me and I allow myself to be distracted, the circulation of my inner energy will be hampered, preventing me from mobilizing it to control my arm and leg movements the way I want to. I am so absorbed in practice that I have no idea how much time has elapsed until I hear a voice shouting at me from above. “We have something for you, young lad,” it announces. I look up and see a dark object resembling a basket being tossed in from the wide opening at the top. To prevent it from landing on the ground, I leap up to catch it. To my utter amazement, I find myself soaring up more than thirty feet into the air, a height I had never been able to reach before with my leaps. It occurs to me that this particular skill must be the effect of the new set of martial-arts skills I have just acquired and practised. Again, I try to contain my euphoria so as not to disturb the equilibrium necessary for my inner energy to flow untrammelled. I examine the contents of the basket. Inside are a thin blanket and some buns and noodles. By the time I finish my meal, it is dark. After a hard day spent fighting with the puppets, followed by the practice of my new skills, I am utterly exhausted. I cover myself with the blanket and go off to sleep. Two days have passed, but there is still no sign of rain. By this time, I have already practised the movements depicted in the engravings several times. With each round of practice, I notice an appreciable spurt in my inner energy. When I use it to manipulate my dancing ribbon, I find a new power emanating from the ribbon, something I had never observed before. In fact, the gust of wind created at the bottom of the well by the movement of my ribbon is so forceful, that a few stones in the wall become dislodged and fall to the ground, leaving a kind of gash in the wall. When I examine this aperture, I discover a metal box wedged inside. Without a moment’s hesitation, I pull it out. It is rusty and measures about two feet by two feet. The lid is jammed tight with rust and I have great difficulty opening it. I dare not use excessive force, fearing that the box might have been fitted with some secret mechanism that is liable to cause injury if it is forced open. After much effort, I manage to prise it open gently, trying not to disturb the contents, in case there are any. Inside is a gleaming pair of daggers. Considering their size, they are quite heavy. Although the box has completely rusted, the daggers are in mint condition. I gather they are made from steel of excellent quality. I try them out, swishing them this way and that, but I am not comfortable wielding them. When I try out the movements depicted in the engravings, however, I feel their smooth flow and the power surging in my swings. After I have completed one round of the movements, I make an amazing discovery: I am able to carry out two moves simultaneously. Armed with the pair of daggers, I am not only able to cover myself completely in defence, I am also able to attack my opponent from eight different directions!. I realize, then, that the daggers are intended to complement the set of martial-arts techniques depicted in the engravings on the wall. I have no words to describe my exhilaration. I know that with more practice, it is well within the realms of possibility for me to become one of the greatest martial- arts warriors in the land. On the third day of my confinement in the well, I feel drops of water on my skin. I look up to find it is raining. Yes, it is, indeed, raining! I pray for a heavy downpour that will never stop. It will ensure that I am rescued by the members of the martial-arts school. Meanwhile, I use the blanket to wrap up the pair of daggers and fasten them to my back. The shower is getting heavier by the minute, and after an entire day of rainfall, the well starts filling up with water. I am able to keep myself afloat by hanging on to the wooden board. When I am about twenty feet from the mouth of the well, I can hear people talking and shouting. “Little brother, are you there?” a man yells down to me from above. “Yes,” I shout back, “I am hanging on to the wooden board and I am halfway up the well already.” “Be patient,” he advises me. “Wait just a little while longer and you will soon float to the top.” It is nearing nightfall when the level of water in the well is about ten feet from the opening. Somebody shouts down, “We are about to drop a rope down into the well for you. Catch hold of it and we will pull you out.” I watch a rope being lowered into the well. I try to reach for it, but it is too short. In the meantime, it has been pouring continuously. The water level is on the rise. I am surprised, indeed, that nobody in this place has a longer length of rope than the one dropped into the well. Meanwhile, the man who has been communicating with me all this while tries to console me and asks me to be patient. I suddenly recall the engravings at the bottom of the well and the ones depicting the postures and movements of a monkey. With my improved inner energy that has, in turn, enhanced the skill with which I use my light-steps movements, I attempt to stand upright on the wooden board and balance myself. To my surprise, I am able to do so quite easily. I yell out to the man up there who has been talking to me and with the help of some of the people gathered around him, he pulls me out. I thank them all for rescuing me and for providing me food during these past few days. I am then led to a large building which I am told is the Yau Dong Mountain School. I am given a new set of clothes to change into and directed to a washroom. I notice that the garments are intended for a man. Having changed into my new clothes, I look around for a mirror so I can brush my hair, now shortened to give me a masculine appearance. I am also anxious to find out how serious the wound on my face is. I found a mirror near the exit of the washroom, but when I look into it, I am quite horrified. A big gash stretches all the way from my left cheek to my jaw. Although I knew I had grazed my face against the wall of the well as I fell in, I had not realized that the gash was quite so prominent. As I start fretting over the unsightly scar it might leave on my face, I burst into tears. I am brought to my senses by a voice outside the washroom asking me to come out and have a meal. It reminds me that I am disguised as a man and a man should certainly not be seen in tears. I pull myself together and leave the washroom. I am led upstairs to a big room which looks like a study. I notice that the walls are lined with books. A variety of weapons is displayed on some shelves. A couple of young men and an elderly man with a long, white beard are waiting for me. “I am the Headmaster of the Yau Dong Mountain Martial Arts School,” declares the old man. “We deeply regret the accident you met with when a puppet inadvertently threw you into the well during your entrance test. To compensate for the trauma you have endured, I have decided to enrol you as a pupil in our school. Meals and accommodation will be provided. During the first six months of the course, you will not be allowed to go home. This is to ensure that your concentration during your studies and practice sessions is unhindered by any distractions. You will stay in the dormitory with your fellow pupils and interact with them as though they were your brothers.” After I hear what the Headmaster has to say, I am extremely nervous. I fear that by sharing the same bedroom with the other men and using the communal washroom, my real identity will be out in the open in no time at all. I decide that it might be better for me to reveal the truth right now. “Thank you, Headmaster, for your kind offer,” I tell him. “While I am very keen to learn martial-arts skills from your school, I have to confess that my eagerness to join your school has led me to take leave of my senses. I am, in fact, not a man at all, but a woman. I hope you will forgive me for disguising myself as a man to be eligible for the entrance test.” “What!” exclaims the Headmaster. His face is suffused with anger. Judging by the expressions of the rest of the people in the room, they are not only shocked by my words, but quite displeased at the trick I have played on them in my eagerness to join the school. “I am sorry, Sir,” I say, averting my eyes from the Headmaster’s face to avoid noticing his reaction. “Well,” he announces sternly, “I am afraid you have to leave this place at once. I cannot allow a women to stay in our school.” Once I have collected my precious parcel in which the twin daggers are concealed, I am led to the door. No sooner have I left the Yau Dong Martial Arts School than I begin feeling despondent all over again. I really have no clue as to where I should go. What troubles me particularly is the gash on my face. I have no idea whether it will heal and if, indeed, it does, whether it will leave a disfiguring scar. However, when I touch the parcel on my back, I suddenly become very cheerful and exuberant again. Quite by chance, I have not only stumbled upon a really powerful form of martial-arts skills, but also acquired a pair of wonderful weapons. I tell myself that I should be content with my good fortune and stop expecting more. I go down the hill and put up for the night in an inn. CHAPTER 14 The next morning, I decide to find a peaceful place for practising the martial-arts skills I have picked up from studying the engravings down in the well. I am hoping that once I am proficient in this new form of combat, I will be able to participate in the national martial-arts championship. With my new skills, I expect to be able to defeat a large number of contestants. There might even be a possibility of my eventually becoming a leader among the martial-arts experts. With the title of martial-arts leader, I would be able to earn the respect of the people living in my village. And I have every intention of going back there to eradicate the cruel tradition that had driven me away from home. However, my first priority now is to practise the new form of martial arts every minute of the day so as to enhance my skills and attain a level of excellence. Having made some enquiries, I learn that a little house by the stream at the foot of the Yau Dong Mountain is available for rent. I rent it immediately and prepare myself for a sustained period of hard, martial-arts practice. I go out the following morning for a short stroll. The sky is blue and the water in the stream flowing by is sparkling clean. I take off my shoes and paddle about in the stream to see whether I can catch some fish. I pick up a tiny pebble and aim it at a bird flying in the sky. The pebble shoots up like lightning and, to my surprise, hits the bird with such force that the creature is driven another twenty feet in the air before it plummets down. I am pleased indeed with the effect of the new form of martial arts on my inner energy that is now enabling me to throw objects with such force and accuracy. It has been two weeks now since I settled down in this place. I have been practising hard with the pair of daggers I brought up from the well and can feel the surge in my inner energy. I can now direct the power of my strikes at will, without having to move my arms or legs. As soon as I contemplate moving my dagger to strike an imaginary opponent, the hand holding the dagger flies up with such speed and force that the rush of wind created by the movement of the weapon causes the leaves on the trees around me to fall off. Although I try to concentrate on practising the new form of martial arts, I still spend some time on the art of using the fighting ribbon which I had learned from Master Swan. However, I find that I have not made much progress in fine-tuning my techniques in this domain. I suspect that when Master Swan taught us how to fight with a ribbon, she did not reveal all the secrets underlying this form of martial arts. I would not be at all surprised if she did so, because she is a woman with a jealous and selfish heart. From then onwards, I concentrate on the zodiac martial-arts form and work hard at it until I attain perfection in acquiring insights into each movement. Autumn arrives and my backyard is a carpet of yellow leaves. Winter comes and the backyard lies under a thick blanket of snow, presenting a scenic vista outside my window. Then comes Spring, followed by Summer. Three years have passed. I am no longer the young girl who left home ages back to escape being a prey to superstition and barbaric rituals. I am happy living in this little village. People here are kind to me. I also have the opportunity of meeting many pupils from the Yau Dong Mountain Martial Arts School who come down to the village to buy groceries and other essentials. Having practised the martial arts for three years continuously, I know that I have reached a very high level of competence. But I have not been able to put my skills to the test so far. I have no way of knowing how they compare to those of other martial-arts experts. If I am to evaluate the standard I have reached, I must engage someone in combat and put my skills to the test. Why, I wonder, do I not hold a friendly competition in this small village? It would surely arouse the interest of the boys from the prestigious Yau Dong Mountain Martial Arts School and encourage them to participate. With the assistance of the Village Chief, we put up notices in the village market place, announcing the competition. That draws quite a few martial-arts experts to the contest, but to my surprise, or should I say delight, I remain unbeaten for three months. I decide to keep the competition going until I meet my match, so that I can discuss martial-arts theories and skills with that person. Word spreads that a young woman with a prominent scar who is second to none in her martial-arts skills has yet to be beaten in this competition. Out of sheer curiosity, people from other cities and villages start signing up in large numbers. A young instructor from the Yau Dong Mountain Martial Arts School had once participated in the same competition. Although I had defeated him, he comes down to the village to see me whenever he has the time. His name is Stepso and he appears to be a very kind, gentle young man. I have found out that he is three years older than me. An orphan, he has been brought up by a master of the same School. Judging by what I have heard from some of the pupils of the School, Stepso is a very popular instructor. Apart from being quite knowledgeable about the different martial-arts schools and styles, he is friendly with his pupils and a marked departure from his colleagues who prefer to wear a stern expression all the time. I invite him over sometimes to my place for tea, and we derive a great deal of pleasure from our discussions about the martial arts. By this time, I have reverted to the use of my name, Swan Beauty, because I no longer accept that beauty lies only in one’s physical attributes. Mei Mei, the name I was given after I was born, so vividly recalls the cruel tradition of my village that I vow never to use it again. The friendship I share with Stepso blossoms day by day, but I have yet to tell him about my background. I am still not sure whether it is the right time to do so.When I pass the village’s ancestral hall one day, I see a notice announcing a martial-arts championship to be held in Suchau two months later. When I meet Stepso a few days later, he informs me that the Headmaster of his School is the present champion and I will have to defeat him in the competition. That, of course, is not going to be easy. I had been waiting for this opportunity for sometime and decide to participate. However, the thought of not seeing Stepso for a few months saddens me. Having pondered over our relationship for a few days, I decide to confide in him about my reasons for leaving my village and the adventures I have had since. I also tell him how I discovered the zodiac martial-arts form and the twin daggers. “I am very impressed with the way you have dealt with your ordeals,” he says. “You really are an amazing girl and I admire your courage and your independent character. The journey to Suchau will take about a month. You must take all the things you need for the journey. Although I will accompany the Headmaster to the competition, it is unlikely that we will travel together. However, I am sure I will see you in the competition.” Just before Stepso leaves the house, he declares his love for me. I am ecstatic about finally having found a man who loves me despite the scar on my face. We bid each other farewell. It is a sad occasion for both of us. CHAPTER 15 The next day, I leave the little house that has been my home during the best three years of my life. It is here that I witnessed my almost unbelievable progress in the martial-arts skills. It is here that I also found my true love. Oh, how happy I am going over the precious moments I have spent with Stepso! How sad it is for me to leave the little house in its lovely setting of green landscape, pebbled paths, mountain and stream! I know it will linger forever in my memory. It is Spring; the weather is, therefore, mild. Everything seems to come alive: leaves have started appearing on the trees and flowers of different colours blossom everywhere. Birds burst into song. Even the sun is kind to us. But even as I am absorbing these picturesque sights, I cannot keep my mind off Stepso. I find myself wondering several times a day how he is doing, whether he is finding the journey too tough and if he will make new friends en route. On the way, I also see groups of people apparently heading for the championship in Suchau. I also find my thoughts turning to my parents and my village. How wonderful it would be if I could return home with the honour of winning a martial-arts championship and be in a position to abolish the village’s abominable custom! Having done so, I could ensure a far better life for future generations of young girls.When I arrive at the town in which the competition is to take place, I find most of the boarding houses full. I learn from those I come across, that not only have people travelled all the way here to take part in the competition, but there are some who have come exclusively to watch the fight, while others have, in fact, arrived to look for famous martial-arts experts with whom they hope to train. Of one thing I am sure: the leaders of most of the famous martial-arts schools in the country will participate in the contest. I start wondering at that point whether I will meet my old mates from Swan Mountain again. The very thought fills me with enthusiasm and the longing to see those who were once my best friends there. After much effort, I manage to find a decent room in a small inn for the night. Tomorrow will be a big day for me. I should, therefore, have plenty of sleep to energize myself so that I can perform well in the competition. However, contemplating my future with Stepso fills me with excitement. Then my thoughts wander to my parents and the barbaric tradition in my village I am so desperate to abolish. It is a long time before I fall asleep. Day is breaking over the horizon when I wake up and get out of bed. I open the window and see that the streets are already busy with people. Weapons of all sorts are being sold by some of them. Having washed and dressed for the occasion, I go out. I am carrying my ribbon and my precious daggers with me. I am hoping to bump into Stepso on my way to the venue of the championship just to see how he is. I miss him terribly. The competition is scheduled to take place in a large, open-air stadium. After I have paid the registration fee and completed all the formalities, I am allowed to enter it. Right in the centre is a ring. A large number of people are already gathered around it. I am on the lookout for Stepso, but he is nowhere in sight. Around noon, a loud gong rings out. I turn my gaze towards the ring and can hardly believe my eyes. Inside the ring stands the Headmaster of the Yau Dong Mountain Martial Arts School. I gather from the announcement made that he was crowned champion three years ago. It is no surprise that he is so widely respected in the martial- arts field. Since he must defend his title, he will be the first contestant today. Being new to the competition and having no prior experience of such tournaments, I consider it prudent to wait for a while before I participate. No sooner have I made up my mind than an elderly man claiming to be the leader of the Yin Yang Martial Arts School leaps into the ring and challenges the headmaster of the Yau Dong Mountain School. After an exchange of niceties, the challenger starts by attacking the Headmaster with a series of very powerful fist strikes. The target manages, however, to duck all the thrusts with ease. Since by now, I have developed my martial-arts skills to a considerable extent, I realize right away that the leader of the Yin Yang School is placing too much emphasis on the Yang of his attack, thus ignoring the Yin aspect. Strikes that are too powerful tend to be direct and can, therefore, be anticipated and dealt with quite easily. As long as the Headmaster of the Yau Dong Mountain School places his arms on those of his opponent, he can immediately sense any powerful strikes about to be directed against him and deflect them effectively. The moment the Headmaster of the Yau Dong Mountain School wards off his opponent’s seventh strike, the leader of the Yin Yang School loses his balance. No sooner have I noticed this than the Headmaster of the Yau Dong Mountain School summons his inner energy to give his opponent a mighty heave. Having already lost his balance, the man is more or less defenceless and thrown more than twenty feet backwards. Then comes another challenger: a young, arrogant- looking fellow. He wields an axe with great force and dexterity, but I notice that when launching an attack on the Headmaster of the Yau Dong Mountain School, he leaves huge gaps in his defence and opens himself to easy attack. Using a beautiful sword which he manoeuvres with supreme grace, the Headmaster of the Yau Dong Mountain School dispatches the young man within a matter of minutes. The next to enter the ring is a person who seems very familiar. With a sense of shock, I recognize Master Swan. She is looking extremely well and energetic. Her head is high and so is her chest. Confidence radiates from her. After the observance of formal protocol, she wastes no time and swings her dancing ribbon directly at the most vulnerable part of the Headmaster’s body. Had the latter not swerved to the left, he would not have been able to escape the blow. It is evident from his expression that he regards the tournament as a friendly contest and is outraged by Master Swan’s merciless attack. Suddenly, the Headmaster roars and wields his sword in a continuous movement in Master Swan’s direction as if it were a bolt of cloth. But the lady remains unscathed, as her light-footsteps skill is of such a high order that she is able to leap from side to side to avoid the thrusts. It is clear to me, however, that her counter-attacks are haphazard. She has to resort to a variety of skills to defend herself and after a few more exchanges, her movements become disorderly. Her offensives are, therefore, less effective. Suddenly, I hear a hiss: Master Swan’s ribbon has been slashed to pieces by her opponent. She has lost the fight. When she leaves the ring, her face is bitter and angry. Having watched the Yau Dong Headmaster’s combat techniques, I realize that the various forms of the twelve animal zodiac martial-arts set discovered at the bottom of the well on Yau Dong Mountain had, in fact, been specifically designed to resist and overcome the different strokes of the martial-arts sequence used by the Headmaster of the Yau Dong Mountain School. Although I might not share his high level of inner energy, I know in my heart that I might have a fair chance of defeating him in the ring. I think it is about time for me to try my luck. Just as I am preparing to make a move, I notice the Prince. Yes, the Prince! He jumps up, light as a feather, and after only a couple of leaps, he is in the ring. Although he has gained a bit of weight, he is still handsome, still attractive. The wonderful effects of the Magic Lake have lasted. After both men have gone through their usual protocol ritual, they prepare themselves for combat. Both are using almost identical swords. They engage themselves in a fierce fight. Standing where I am, I can feel the rush of air as their swords cut through space. Both are such skilful swordsmen that very seldom do I hear the clang of their weapons in collision. While the Prince appears to be more energetic and agile, his opponent’s movements are well-anchored and economically executed. Although the Prince is using some of the sword strokes from the Lovers’ Swords Sequence, it is clear that they are not quite as effective as when used by a pair of lovers. After another ten exchanges, the Headmaster suddenly changes his tactics and resorts to techniques that produce a whirling effect from his sword. The strokes are forceful enough to put the Prince on the backfoot. Suddenly, his opponent yells, “Watch it!” Thrusting his sword at the Prince, he draws it back immediately and rolls over the ground to attack his opponent’s flank. The Prince is caught off-guard and hurriedly moves his sword to meet the thrust of his opponent’s weapon. By this time, the Headmaster has already moved to the Prince’s rear and touched him on the back with his sword. Realizing that he has lost the contest, the Prince steps back and bows out of the ring with dignity. This time, I move towards the centre of the stadium without any hesitation and leap into the ring. In the course of the usual protocol that needs to be observed, I realize that the Headmaster of the Yau Dong Mountain School has failed to recognize me as the person who had disguised herself as a man in order to gain admission to the martial-arts school. “Young lady,” announces the Headmaster in a tone that combines disdain and consideration for my apparently inferior position, “since you are so young and inexperienced, I will allow you to strike me three times before I fight you back. However, after the first three strikes, you must be on your guard.”. I thank him for his kindness and insist that there is no need to offer me a handicap. I initiate combat by using one of my twin daggers to strike at his head while the other is aimed at his waist. The Headmaster steps aside calmly and waits for my second strike. I am furious at being patronized and use one dagger to attack him from the top and the other from the bottom. Again, he simply steps back. My offensives are of no avail. He has not even lifted his sword so far.I then aim for two separate pressure points on his chest, swivelling around quickly to evade his attack.The Headmaster brings his long sword swinging down from high above to the top of my head. I avert the move by stepping swiftly aside, execute a ninety- degree turn and thrust my daggers at the Headmaster’s armpit and loin. I am surprised at the ease with which I can do this. This confirms my belief that the zodiac sequence featuring the twelve animals had been designed to resist and overpower the Yau Dong style of swordplay. This serves as an immense boost to my confidence. I also sense how surprised the Headmaster is when he immediately quickens the pace of his attacks. However, I do not have any problems fending them off . Indeed, much to his consternation, I am able to counter-attack him. I can feel my opponent’s growing anxiety over his failure to rout me within a matter of minutes. He then changes the nature of his game by marshalling as much inner energy as he can to concentrate it on his attacks. I know that this involves more than mere technique and try to avoid coming into direct contact with his sword. By now, I have a good feel of the Headmaster’s swordplay. I am deliriously happy that my three years of dedication to the practice of the sword sequence discovered on the wall of the well has reaped rich dividends. When I launch into the “dragon” style of combat, the last set of the twelve animals in the zodiac martial-arts sequence, to attack the Headmaster, I observe that he is still able to fend off my attacks, though not without difficulty. In order not to prolong the fight, I decide to use both the daggers and the ribbon, hoping that the Headmaster will find it difficult to deal with weapons of different length and texture. Gripping both the daggers in my left hand, I take out the ribbon from my waist with my right. Held together in my left hand, the two daggers seem to weld into a single weapon and the combined weight of the two makes my blows exceedingly powerful. I swing the ribbon towards the Headmaster. He tries to use his sword to fend it off and cut it into pieces at the same time. Having anticipated his response, I immediately use the two daggers in my left hand to strike at his sword. The impact is forceful enough to send his sword spinning into the air. It is obvious that dealing with an attack from a soft weapon and a simultaneous attack from a hard weapon is quite beyond him. Within seconds, there is loud applause from the spectators. I know I have won the battle. I bow to the Headmaster as a matter of courtesy. “Sir, do you not recognize me?” I enquire. “I am the girl who disguised herself as a boy to be eligible for admission to your school.” “Where did you learn this form of martial arts?” he asks me in turn in a voice that suggests a lump in his throat. “I have never seen it before. Did you pick it up from some unorthodox master?” I do not feel obliged to answer his question. Amidst loud cheers and applause, I am crowned champion. At that moment, I notice Stepso approaching me. Enveloping me in a big hug, he congratulates me for winning the competition. We are both overjoyed at how everything has turned out. “What are your plans now?” Stepso asks me. “I would like to go home now and see my parents,” I tell him. “Now that I have won the title of Champion of the Martial Arts Masters, I would like to do everything within my means to abolish the barbaric custom prevailing in my village.” “I will go with you,” he offers. “Wait here. I will let my Headmaster know about my decision. Furthermore, it is about time that I left the school and led my own life.” CHAPTER 16 The following day, we set off for my hometown. I have never felt happier. After being away for several years, I am going home at last. I have won the contest that matters to me most and my true love is with me. The scar on my face does not bother me at all. When my parents see me on their doorstep, they have difficulty recognizing me. Although I have been transformed into a pretty girl, I have a scar on my face and my hair was cut to very short. When they do realize who I am, they are thrilled to have me back again. Having spoken to Stepso, my parents seem to like him very much and regard him as a member of the family. I tell them earnestly how hard I have toiled in the past few years to excel in the martial arts. I explain that it was purely for the purpose of empowering myself to eradicate the abominable tradition that snuffed out the lives of young girls for no reason other than their lack of looks. My parents can hardly believe that I have been declared champion of martial-arts experts in the recent competition. To convince them, I show them the pair of daggers I found in the well and also demonstrate what I am able to do with my combat skills. They are really impressed by my ability to jump up and touch the ceiling before landing on the ground. The following morning, I visit the village representative on my own. I do not want to embroil my parents in any kind of controversy. The representative is shocked when I tell him of my resolve and thinks I must be out of my senses to contemplate abolishing a centuries-old tradition. When I show him my certificate stating that I have been crowned champion of martial-arts experts in the recent competition, he mellows noticeably and is all courtesy. I tell him that as the spokesperson for all the martial-arts experts in the country, I demand that a meeting be convened that evening, inviting all the residents of the village to attend. This is to offer them all a chance to debate whether the tradition of sacrificing young girls to the Eternal God should be stopped forthwith or allowed to continue. The village representative acquiesces immediately to my request. It is not clear, however, whether he really believes such a tradition should be abolished or is afraid of the consequences of non-compliance. That evening, I address the crowd of villagers before me. “My fellow villagers,” I say, “I am pleased to note that you have made an effort to attend this meeting. We have a tradition in this village of drowning young girls twice a year as a sacrifice to the Eternal God. Give me one good reason why girls who are born plain for no fault of their own should be forced to die in the flush of youth? Would you be so cruel as to allow your own daughters to be drowned?” Silence greets my opening speech in the village hall. I know that most people who live here are orthodox and respect tradition. They dare not defy the counsel of village elders. I have no alternative but to use a strategy that will convince them of the seriousness of my intentions. “There is something I would like to make very clear once and for all,” I tell them firmly. “If people in this village still persist in perpetuating their infamous tradition, they are likely to end up like this table.” Having said that, I take out my daggers and bang them on the table in front of me. As the villagers look on in amazement, the table is smashed to pieces. All that remains in its place is sawdust. CHAPTER 17 Incredible though it seems, my wedding day has arrived. I watch as though in a dreamlike trance as everybody busies themselves with the preparations. It promises to be quite an event. My parents have hired the village hall where the wedding ceremony will be held, followed by a banquet. Most of the villagers have been invited, including all the senior members of the Village Bureau. Nearly a hundred guests are present on the occasion and arrangements have been made to serve them a feast they will not forget in a hurry. Decorated in ceremonial red for the occasion, the hall looks magnificent. Red ribbons arranged in a myriad patterns stream across its walls and an abundance of scarlet chrysanthemums spray out of the tall, beautifully-painted vases adorning every nook and corner. I am dressed in a traditional red wedding gown that sweeps the floor. A long red veil covers my face. Only when the wedding ceremony comes to a close will the bridegroom be allowed to lift it and gaze into my eyes. Tied around my waist is the dance ribbon that has stood me in good stead for so long. For someone like me, trained in the martial arts, it is a good-luck charm that accompanies me everywhere. A bride’s nanny, a sort of companion for the day, is by my side throughout. A particular hour, deemed auspicious by the priests and guaranteed to bring the couple good fortune, has been set aside for the ceremony. Custom demands that I do not meet Stepso, my would-be bridegroom, before the wedding ceremony. I am required to wait in a small antechamber behind the hall. All the guests are assembled in the hall to watch the ceremony. My parents, naturally, are there. Installed in a pair of huge armchairs upholstered in red silk, they look as regal as monarchs. When the time for the ceremony draws near, the bride’s nanny accompanies me to the hall, where Stepso comes forward to meet me formally. Together, we make our way to the area where my parents are seated to seek their blessings. We bow before them as a mark of respect. It is also my way of expressing my gratitude to them for bringing me up. The next part of the ritual calls for the bride and her partner to bow to each other. As we are about to do so, a hissing sound somewhere to the rear alerts me that something is seriously amiss. Had I not been in an emotional frame of mind, the prerogative of every bride on her wedding day, I would have recognized it instantly as the sound of a missile being launched in my direction from behind and flying swiftly towards me. Caught unawares, I hesitate for a fraction of a moment, wondering whether I should interrupt the proceedings to intercept the object in mid-flight or simply duck it. Before I can act, however, Stepso lunges forward, wrapping his arms protectively around my body to shield me from harm. I cannot figure out what is happening. Then his hold gradually slackens and he falls to the floor with a thud. There is a great uproar around us, but with my veil obstructing my vision, I have no clue as to what exactly has taken place. I snatch off the offending piece of cloth, drop it on the floor and whirl around. My heart skips a beat. Stepso is lying on the floor with a short-handled spear protruding from his back. Someone had obviously attempted to kill me and my husband had come in the way. Instinct tells me that my beloved is dead. For a fleeting moment, I feel as though a dam has burst inside me. The urge to sink onto the floor and let my feelings take over is overwhelming. But fury rises within me at the injustice of having been allowed to come so far in life, only to watch everything turn to dust. Besides, I will never be able to live with myself if I do not avenge my husband’s murder. My eyes dart to the crowd of guests in pursuit of the culprit. Then they home in on an old man moving furtively through the throng towards the exit. I try to focus my thoughts on the assassin, but my emotions are in utter disarray. The picture of my husband lying dead on the floor keeps coming back to haunt me. That is why I forget the dance ribbon around my waist and when I pick my veil off the floor and swing it towards the man’s right temple like a lethal missile, aiming to render him unconscious, it hits him at a spot half an inch off-target. Momentarily stunned, he staggers back, but recovers quickly enough to come charging at me, his upraised hand fisted around a dagger. Hampered by the voluminous skirt of my wedding gown, I find it difficult to assume a combative stance. The man is nearly upon me. Then I remember my dance ribbon. Whipping it off my waist, I lash out with it, aiming straight for a nerve in his neck. My weapon finds its mark. The assassin emits a strangled sound and collapses on the floor. Blood gushes out of his nose and ears. In a hoarse, choking voice, he curses me. “You should have been dead by now!” he croaks. “Had it not been for Stepso who sacrificed his life for you. You deserve to die, you witch, for the harm you have brought to this village! It is you who have killed its honourable tradition, perpetuated for generations by our revered ancestors!” Then he chokes on a gob of his own blood and falls back onto the ground. The village doctor who is one of the invited guests turns his attention from Stepso to the assassin. He feels the man’ s pulse, then shakes his head. The man is dead. The village doctor then tells me that the attacker was the oldest of the four deputy chiefs in the village and had learned the martial arts as well. That is why, despite his advanced years, he had been such a fearsome opponent. I turn to look at Stepso. My beloved’s face is as pale as a sheet of paper. I kneel by his side, lay my head on his chest and wrap my arms around him. I let the tears flow at last. I whisper into his ear that I will love him always and be true to him forever. And then I hear a faint heartbeat and an even fainter voice whispering, “I love you too.” Several months after Stepso’s death, I went off to a remote island just off my village, and started a martial arts training school, hoping to develop further my martial art skills and to promote and spread of the zodiac form of fighting skill to my pupils. I have named the island Stepso Island. Years have gone by. I have been given a nick name by my fellow martial artists, and the name is Scarred Beauty. THE END |
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ORIENTAL WOMEN TALK
Martial Art Fantasy Short Story
Author: Hani Law Copyright © 2006
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Poems
Wise talk
Taiji
Idioms
Buddhism
History of China
"Butterfly Lovers"
Calligraphy
Lyric verses
Yi Jing
Famous painting
Chinese tea
A true story
Confucianism
Friends of China
Link to
chinesechinese.net
Wise talk
Taiji
Idioms
Buddhism
History of China
"Butterfly Lovers"
Calligraphy
Lyric verses
Yi Jing
Famous painting
Chinese tea
A true story
Confucianism
Friends of China
Link to
chinesechinese.net
17
This book can be purchased online
from www.i-proclaimbookstore.com.
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