Wu Tong's strike was like lightning and thunder, crashing down with irresistible force. The Steel-Saber Demon King Liu Yong and the Steel-Saber Hawk King Ding Qiang raised their heavy blades to block, their figures flashing as they retreated a dozen steps. In the blink of an eye they had been driven back against a towering tree. Desperate, they swung their sabers upward and twisted aside—for had the Dragon-Crouching Blade descended, they would surely have been hewn in two.
With a deafening boom, the massive tree toppled to the ground. At that very instant, the two bandit chiefs threw back their heads and roared like beasts, their voices shaking the valley. Their sabers thrust forward together, meeting Wu Tong's blade in midair. Saber-wind tore up the snow beneath their feet, scattering it in a wild flurry.
Yet Wu Tong did not evade. He pressed forward, each move savage, each cut perilous—deadly beyond compare. With a sudden shout he unleashed "Single Saber, Direct Entry." His form flowed like drifting clouds, his steps like running water, his blade swift as lightning. The killing intent streaming from the Dragon-Crouching Blade soared skyward, enough to shatter mountains and rend the heavens.
Within that desolate gorge, the clash of steel and the howl of wind became a storm of silver light. Liu Yong and Ding Qiang fought furiously, their steel sabers hacking like a tempest, each stroke splitting the air with a shriek.
In the center of it all Wu Tong stood unyielding, his eyes sharp as lightning. With a shout—"Come then!"—he darted aside thrice, ghostlike, evading their fiercest strikes. He stepped in, his long saber sweeping wide. Steel met steel, sparks burst forth, the ringing echo piercing heaven and earth.
Wu Tong's blade quivered with power, pouring down like a waterfall, drowning both opponents in a cascade of steel. No matter how their saber paths shifted, his own cut through them unerringly, lightning-fast, shadow following shadow. The bandit chiefs saw only a storm of steel and light; they could not find a gap.
Suddenly the Dragon-Crouching Blade turned in his hand. Though the weapon was light, the strength behind it was overwhelming. With two sharp cracks, both bandit chiefs were disarmed—their heavy sabers wrenched from their grip and sent whirling into the air. The weapons spun away, embedding themselves deep into a tree ten yards distant, their hilts still quivering.
The Demon King and Hawk King stood stunned, faces pale, staring at their lost weapons. Never had they faced such ferocity. Wu Tong's power was beyond imagining.
Then, in a flash, his blade was sheathed. He stepped back lightly, majestic and calm, clasped his fists, and said with courtesy:"My apologies."
The two chiefs caught their breath, the murderous fire in their eyes gone. Liu Yong managed, between gasps:"Good… what a blade… what a blade art!"
With a wave of his hand he ordered his men to withdraw. The bandits melted away into the forest.
The refugees and the Nun of Tianshan, holding the young girl's hand, came forward to offer thanks. Together they departed toward the county town. After several miles, the people dispersed, leaving only Wu Tong, Li Qian, the nun, and the girl Yu Xuan.
Traveling west toward Chang'an, the four grew weary and stopped at a roadside inn. They ordered four bowls of noodles. As they ate, they overheard men at the next table speaking.
"I hear the Lamas plan to strike tonight, when the Manichaeans and Zoroastrians hold their festival!"Another man replied, "The court is too busy with its own troubles. If the Lamas attack, the Manichaean and Zoroastrian sects are doomed. Brother Song, I must take my leave."
With a bow, he departed.
Wu Tong rose, approached the remaining man, and clasped his fists politely:"Brother, I know friends among both the Manichaean and Zoroastrian sects. Might you tell me where their celebration is held this evening?"
The man studied Wu Tong's bearing and said:"Please sit. Are you worried for your friends?"
As Master of the Hall of Loyalty and Righteousness, it was Wu Tong's duty to uphold justice. He nodded and sat."Indeed. I heard your words and could not sit idle. I must see for myself."
The man replied:"Outside the county stands a Zoroastrian shrine. Tonight, the two sects will gather there."
Zoroastrians call their temples shrines rather than temples. They worship fire—symbol of light and purity—and also the sun, moon, and stars. Thus they are known as the Fire-Worshippers, or Xianjiao, in China.
The man smiled. "I am Song Qiang, chief of the Iron Fist Gang. May I ask your name, brother?"
Wu Tong gave a modest smile."I am Wu Tong, the new master of the Hall of Loyalty and Righteousness."
Song Qiang's eyes widened. He stood in awe."So it is the renowned Wu Tong! Forgive me for not recognizing you. I shall punish myself with three cups!"
He drank three in a row, then refilled and toasted Wu Tong."To meet Lord Wu is an honor beyond measure!"
Wu Tong laughed heartily."And to meet Chief Song is my fortune thrice over. Come, let us drink!"
The two drank together, kindred spirits found. That evening they agreed to go together to the shrine.
Wu Tong had hoped the Nun of Tianshan and the child Yu Xuan would remain at the inn. But the nun, once bound to the Dharma King Aros, suspected the matter might concern him, and refused to stay. Yu Xuan clung to her master and would not be left behind. Thus, with Li Qian as well, the four rode together.
Not far beyond the town, they came upon a Zoroastrian shrine amidst sparse woods. Before it burned the sacred flame, and the priests in white robes, marked with great symbols of fire, moved in solemn rites.
At the gate stood the Manichaean Lord Li Rui and the Zoroastrian Lord Zhao Ke, their faces clouded with worry.
Wu Tong called out:"Lords Li, Zhao! How fare you?"
The two were astonished, then overjoyed."Lord Wu! What brings you here?"
Wu Tong laughed:"We heard word that the Lamas would strike tonight. I could not sit idle—I have come to lend my aid."
The two lords clasped their hands in gratitude. Zhao Ke said:"With Lord Wu at our side, what threat can the Lamas pose?"
At that very moment snow began to fall, glittering in the moonlight. From the far horizon came a dark tide—scores of figures striding swiftly over the snow, closing in. Their movements spoke of skill and training.
The Lama Sect had come.