The martial arts of the Central Plains are vast and profound, producing generations of heroes—how could they ever be compared with the crude skills of the borderlands? Yet the warriors of Tibet were famed for their ferocity in battle, their renown spreading far and wide.
When Zongzan saw a woman step forth to fight, he snorted in disdain."Women and petty men are the hardest to deal with. Let me see what skills this girl truly has!"
For Zongzan too had read the Analects, quoting Confucius: "Only women and petty men are hard to keep close; if near, they become impertinent, if distant, resentful."
Zhao Rou answered firmly:"Since you have some learning, you should also know that the Master's Way is nothing more than loyalty and empathy. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you."
Zongzan sneered:"Foolish woman! My Tibetan king is a man of vision and power. We shall march into the Central Plains, seize the Tang's vast lands, and replace it!"
Zhao Rou's eyes flashed."Then hear this: The man of principle does not cling to life at the expense of righteousness. He may die to fulfill it, but never live to destroy it. Enough words—come and strike!"
Her words rang out with righteous spirit, stirring every heart present. The heroes of the Central Plains felt their blood surge, admiring her valor and resolve.
Zongzan saluted curtly."Forgive my offense!"
He surged forward, fists flying in the move "Tiger Breaks the Gate." His steps thundered, his palms whistled through the air as he struck toward Zhao Rou's chest. At once their palms met in a fierce clash, hands darting in thrusts and claws, feet stamping the snow.
Zhao Rou's famed technique, Soft Palms, had been taught to her by Qiu Feng. When her name was divined through the Five Elements, the character "Rou" (soft) was found to harmonize with water and wood—thus most suited to the art of softness. At the time, it was laughed off as coincidence. Now its truth was plain for all to see.
Her breath flowed steady, her movements unhurried, her posture serene. Nothing under heaven is softer than water, yet nothing surpasses it in overcoming the hard. Her inner qi stirred, her Soft Palms unfolding with the move "Highest Good Like Water." Her twin palms flowed like rippling streams, gentle yet inexorable, advancing in waves. The left turned void into substance, the right spread like a silken net. Her attack was silent as waves, yet dissolved the fiercest force into nothingness.
Zongzan's surging palms, fierce as crashing seas, found themselves caught and dissolved, each strike drained away as though sinking in a mire. His full strength was rendered useless, to his astonishment.
He changed suddenly, leaping high, launching the Tibetan secret art "Guests from Afar." His body streaked like a meteor, his palms slashing down like blades, the air around him roaring. His force gathered into a mighty thrust, intent on overwhelming her.
But Zhao Rou remained calm. In her heart she recited the Soft Palm formula:"The palm of softness is modeled after water. Water is soft, yet supreme; it yields without yielding, embraces emptiness, unites intent and breath, ever-present yet effortless."
Her palms shifted lightly into "Soft as Boneless." Countless palm-shadows shimmered like drifting clouds. Zongzan struck desperately, yet every attack met only flowing water, never breaking her veil of softness.
Ashamed, he roared, his qi surging violently. With a tiger's bound he rose, arms twisting into hooked claws—Tibet's killing strike "Eagle Seizes the Soul." His talons sliced the air, diving for Zhao Rou's crown.
Zhao Rou merely smiled, her feet tapping lightly. She flowed into "Looking Left, Gazing Right," "Shifting Stars, Moving Constellations," and "Calm as Clouds, Light as Wind." Her body drifted like willow catkins, vanishing in a blur as she slipped past the killing strike.
At that instant, a gale swept the plain. From the western horizon rolled clouds of dust. Ten riders thundered across the snow, banners snapping in the wind—their pennants blazoned with a great "Tuo" character. Tibet's royal guard!
The sudden arrival shocked all present. What new storm was about to break?
The hoofbeats roared nearer, then halted with a chorus of whinnies. The riders reined up sharply, horses rearing high. A dozen men leapt down, their leader saluting:"Master Geleba, Dharma King Kunbu—Yeyan of Tuyuhun leads the warriors of the Western Regions to aid your cause!"
At this, Geleba and Kunbu both cried out in joy.
"Excellent!" Geleba said. "The states of the West must revere Tibet as the superior kingdom. The Tang is torn by strife, too distracted to look west. With your aid, Tibet shall want for no soldiers!"
Kunbu added coldly:"Dharma King Zhao Ke of the Fire-Worship Sect, a wise man bends to the times. Yield this temple. This place of geomantic power shall serve as Tibet's base for the march into the Central Plains!"
The north wind howled. Before the shrine, the sacred fire blazed upon the altar. Dharma King Zhao Ke stood tall and unbowed.
"A true man faces fate with courage. Why fear? If Heaven decrees, then I embrace it. To seek righteousness and gain it—what cause for complaint?"
Kunbu sneered."Then show us your so-called skills, Dharma King, if you dare."
But Zhao Ke answered calmly:"To conquer by strength alone wins no hearts, for strength fails. To conquer by virtue wins the heart sincerely, as the seventy disciples followed Confucius."
Zongzan interjected proudly:"My king's vision stretches from west to east, from north to south. None can resist us. When we march into the Central Plains, the world will unite under Tibet!"
Zhao Ke shook his head."He who cloaks force in righteousness is a tyrant, and tyranny needs a great empire. But he who rules by virtue may reign with little—Tang with seventy li, King Wen with a hundred."
Zongzan scoffed inwardly: "Empty words, out of touch with reality." He barked:"Idle prattle of bookish men! If Fire-Worship truly stands ready for sacrifice, why lean on Central Plains heroes? Come—test my fists yourself!"
Zhao Ke smiled faintly. "With such heroes at my side, even should I falter, Fire-Worship shall not fall. Yet as master of this temple, how can I shrink back? If Heaven wills my death, then let me face it proudly."
Just then, from the east thundered seven steeds, galloping like a storm. The riders reined in with cries, horses rearing skyward. Seven figures dismounted—none other than Qiu Feng, leader of the Phoenix Gang; Xu Li, chief of the Xuzhou Gang; Elder Fei Jin of the Beggar Sect; and the four great elders—Qian He, Song Ren, Chen Yan, and Jiang Feng.
Their arrival sent a wave of excitement through the crowd. Reinforcements of the jianghu had come!