Martial Art Fantasy Short Story
Author: Hani Law Copyright © 2006
Author: Hani Law Copyright © 2006
SWAN BEAUTY
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 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.
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