Chief Judge Cui Fujun then spoke gravely:"Tonight we came uninvited to see Hall Master Wu of the Loyal and Righteous Hall for this very matter. We hope you will uphold justice for the Wang family massacre."
Wu Tong replied firmly:"The Loyal and Righteous Hall stands for justice. A blood feud so deep must not go unanswered. Without an official figure to intervene, few in the martial world would dare raise a hand!"
Cui Fujun's face brightened with joy:"Then let me thank you in advance. On the fifteenth of this month, at Dharma Lotus Monastery, the orphaned son of the Wang family, Wang Yun, will face Abbot Weiyan in a duel of life and death!"
Wu Tong laughed boldly:"As soon as my duties with the volunteer army here are finished, my wife and I shall go at once. Senior Cui, in turn, I too have a small request."
Cui Fujun was surprised:"Hall Master Wu, what matter could that be? If it lies within my power, I will not refuse."
Wu Tong said:"I hear your society will act as arbiters on the twenty-eighth day of the third month at Huangshan Monastery, when the Lord of the True God Palace, Tuoba Xinge, is to duel the Nine Heavens Lord, Long Zhentian. Is that so?"
Cui Fujun nodded:"Your information is precise. It is true. What aid do you require of me?"
Wu Tong smiled wryly:"When I visited Huangshan Monastery, I learned their pilgrim offerings have dwindled, leaving them nearly destitute. I thought of a remedy: on the day of the duel, each spectator should pay ten copper coins as incense money. For such a trifle, I must trouble you, Senior."
Cui Fujun threw back his head and laughed:"So that is all? I feared you would ask for something far greater. It is only right! We arbitrate these duels not from charity. For Huangshan, Tuoba Xinge has given us one hundred taels, and Long Zhentian fifty. As for the upcoming duel at Dharma Lotus Monastery, the expenses are borne by a certain benefactor. For Huangshan Monastery to collect incense money is only proper. Consider it done."
Wu Tong clasped his fists:"My thanks to the three of you."
Cui Fujun rose:"Since Hall Master Wu has agreed to uphold justice for the Wang family, we shall not disturb your rest further. The night is deep—we take our leave."
Wu Tong and his companions rose to see them off. A full moon hung in the sky, bathing the mountain ridge in silver light like the brightness of day.
Meanwhile, young Wang Yun, the sole survivor of his family, had spent years seeking vengeance. He wandered mountains and rivers, visiting masters far and wide. At last Heaven favored his persistence—he was taken as disciple by Master Yiye, a Chan monk of profound wisdom and martial mastery. Under Yiye's tutelage, Wang Yun acquired skills of the highest order.
Though young and untested in worldly affairs, he had long since learned that the martial world was treacherous. Each morning and evening, he trained to the rhythm of bells and drums, practicing inner cultivation and silent meditation. Gradually, he glimpsed the unity of martial arts and Buddhist dharma. He realized: to rely on martial skill alone for vengeance was to become nothing more than a killer. Only by tempering the blade with compassion could he remain true to himself amid rivers of blood.
Master Yiye once spoke to him with solemn care:"Grievances and enmity arise from clinging desire. If you would take vengeance, first ask your own heart: what is it you truly seek?"
Those words struck deeply. Wang Yun wrestled between vengeance and forgiveness, his heart torn by contradictions. Yet he knew too that his enemies would not relent for his hesitation. So he pursued both—the mastery of supreme martial arts, and the uncovering of the massacre's hidden truth. His vow was clear: the guilty must pay, and justice must be served for his slain kin.
The more he searched, the more he discovered that his family's slaughter was no mere crime of bandits. A greater, darker scheme lurked behind it, one that sought to control the balance of the entire martial world. And Wang Yun himself—though still but one man—was fated to become a key piece in this storm.
The story also tells of Master Huineng, the Sixth Patriarch, whose Chan teachings were famed across the land, equal in depth to his martial insight. His life was beset with hardship—thrice assassinated, six times robbed of his robe—he grew up chopping firewood, illiterate, unable to write a word. His only scripture, the Platform Sutra, was transcribed by disciples from his spoken teachings.
It is said that at the Fifth Patriarch's hall, Shenxiu wrote upon the wall:"The body is a bodhi tree, the mind a bright mirror stand.Diligently wipe them always, let no dust alight."
The monks praised it greatly. But Huineng, upon hearing, said the verse failed to touch the true nature. He asked Prefect Zhang Rirong to write his own:"Bodhi has no tree, nor is the bright mirror a stand.Since there is nothing from the first, where can dust alight?"
That verse resounded for a thousand years.
The next day, the volunteer army resumed its march toward the Tang encampment. The road was calm, with no bandits to bar their path. By late afternoon, however, a great host suddenly appeared ahead—the very gang that had once ambushed the volunteers. At their head was the Dockside Gang's chief, Zhang Cheng.
Tang Fei, the second commander of the Phoenix Gang, scowled:"Scoundrel! Was the beating I gave you last time not enough?"
Zhang Cheng sneered:"Hero Tang, your boldness commands respect. But we are not without allies! Allow me to present them: the Demon of Qianzhong, Qin Zhonglong; the Tyrant of Chu, Wang Chong; the Two Fiends of Huainan, Huang Qi and Wuliang the Mad!"
Tang Fei furrowed his brows:"We are all men of the martial world. Do not think to bully us with numbers. Today we follow the rules—single combat!"
At this, Wu Tong strode forward. His tiger eyes flashed, and a faint smile curled his lips as he raised his voice:"Gentlemen, the Assembly at Xuzhou to quell the rebels has been half a year past. Have you still learned no lesson?"
The villains—all of whom had once suffered at Wu Tong's hand—glared back with hatred, thirsting for revenge. Yet Wu Tong, a man who had walked through seas of blood, was not one to be taken lightly.
Suddenly, Huang Qi, one of the Huainan Fiends, snarled:"Wretch! You slew Ma Ji! Today I will not spare you!"
Li Qian, unaware of Wu Tong's old grudges with these men, sought to break their formation piece by piece. She raised her clear voice:"Very well! I am Li Qian. Allow me to test your vaunted skills first!"
Zhang Cheng frowned:"Then which of you masters will answer this girl's challenge?"
The villains, thinking her a weak woman, scoffed. Qin Zhonglong, the Demon of Qianzhong, smirked. A girl first—good. I'll toy with her awhile before Wu Tong himself steps in. With that thought, he leapt high, soaring over the heads of the crowd, and landed with a booming voice:"I am Qin Zhonglong, Demon of Qianzhong. I shall be your opponent."
Li Qian too leapt lightly into the air, her graceful body twisting mid-flight. With a deft touch of her toes, she spun once and descended like a falling petal, landing opposite him. Bowing slightly, she said coolly:"Please…enlighten me."
Her voice had scarcely faded when she shot forth a punch—swift as lightning.