That day, before the multitude, under the careful arrangement of the Judgment Sect of Life and Death, Reverend Weiyan and the Four Captains were at last dragged into the public trial of the Wang household massacre. Before so many heroes of the martial world, their reputations lay in ruins. The Four Captains' faces twisted with fury—they could not endure such humiliation.
Shixin snarled to Shitian:"Bring out the weapons!"
At once Shitian drew forth several戒刀 (discipline sabers). Shifu and Shihai both growled:"At this point, only by fighting desperately can we carve a path to survival."
Reverend Weiyan intoned grimly:"So be it. Life and death will be decided here—after this duel, all debts are erased!"
Each man gripped a戒刀. The five stretched their limbs, preparing for battle. Suddenly, from the bell pavilion, three long peals resounded—solemn, mournful, chilling to the ear. The monks stirred uneasily at the sound.
Judge-Pen Li Yan's face darkened as he declared:"The hour has come—let the combatants step forth!"
The courtyard of Fahua Temple was cleared. It was noon, the sun blazing, light dazzling like blades. Wang Yun's eyes gleamed with killing intent. For years he had crossed mountains and rivers, sought masters far and wide, all for this hour. His enemies stood before him—the murderers of his entire family. His face was taut, veins bulging, murderous aura blazing forth.
The five rushed forward, swift as arrows, sabers flashing, blood-red eyes like wild beasts. Surging in with howls, they encircled Wang Yun. This was a battle of life and death; they fought like demons unleashed. Knives clashed, steel screamed, sparks scattered like rain, the gale roared with slaughter.
In the storm of flashing blades, a black-clad figure moved like lightning—Wang Yun! His sword glittered with killing energy as he roared:"Blood must pay for blood!"
Amidst the thunder of steel, his sword darted forth, swift and heavy. Shixin and Shitian had no time to retreat. With shrieks, blood burst from their chests like fountains. They collapsed lifeless, staining the ground red.
Shifu and Shihai suddenly hurled hidden weapons. They whistled through the air, but Wang Yun's eyes flashed cold. His blade spun like a flower, striking aside every dart with ringing clangs. Pressing his advantage, he thrust in ferociously. Shifu and Shihai screamed in turn, collapsing into their own pools of blood.
Only Reverend Weiyan remained. His戒刀 trembled before his chest, his strength failing, his spirit broken. Wang Yun's eyes shone like blades themselves. His sword pierced like lightning. A scream rang through the courtyard—blood spurted, the sword drove through Weiyan's chest. The abbot of Fahua Temple fell, lifeless.
Five against one—yet within the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, the murderers of the Wang household lay dead. Wang Yun drew his sword from Weiyan's chest, slid it back into its sheath, and raised his face to heaven. He wailed, tears streaming down:"Heaven has eyes! Forgive your son for taking so long to avenge you!"
At last the Wang household's blood feud was repaid; eleven spirits could rest.
A poem was recited:
Ten years of bitter hatred, each step filled with grief,An orphan bears the heaviest sorrow.Cold sword shadows rise with mournful winds,Blood sprays in blade-light—justice long delayed.
Eleven years before, calamity had struck in the night. Only by chance, suffering stomach pain, had Wang Yun escaped. By dawn, his entire household lay butchered. Homeless, he crept by day, foraged by night, surviving on wild fruit and scraps, never forgetting the faces of his family's killers. Though crushed by grief, he endured. He told himself: this suffering is only the beginning—more lies ahead. The saying rang in his ears: "Eat bitterness, and you may rise above men." His youth was forged into steel by hardship. He vowed to find a master, hone his skills, and one day avenge his kin. Ten long years of harsh training led to this day.
Now, with vengeance complete, Wang Yun rose slowly, bowed to the assembly, and declared:"I, unworthy son Wang Yun, today repaid the blood of my family, only by the aid of all heroes here. With the blood of my enemies I have offered sacrifice to my parents' spirits. I will never forget this great kindness."
He fell to his knees and kowtowed thrice, weeping.
Wu Tong stepped forward, sighing:"Your parents' spirits may rest at ease."
Fei Jin clapped him on the shoulder:"As a son, you did what must be done. A father's and mother's killer cannot be tolerated under heaven. Well done!"
Then came the solemn voice of Abbot Benjue of Shaolin:"Amitābha!"
Together with Li Rui, the Mani Dharma King; Zhao Ke, the Zoroastrian Fire-King; Aros, the Nestorian Lord; and Liu Xuan, Master of the Celestial Sect, he approached.
Wu Tong bowed and said:"Since these five men have repaid their karmic debt, may the venerable masters deliver their souls."
The holy men chanted sutras, giving rites for the fallen. When the chanting ceased, the three judges—Chief Judge Cui, Judge-Pen Li Yan, and Judge-Blade Sun Tian—ordered the bodies shrouded and coffined, turned over to Fahua Temple's monks for burial. Cui bowed to the assembly and said:"Thank you all for standing here in righteousness, for purging evil from the martial world. Until we meet again!"
Wang Yun added:"My elders, I must now return to my master, report that vengeance is complete, then go to my parents' tomb to sweep their graves."
All bowed in return. Wang Yun departed.
At that moment Liu Xuan, Master of the Celestial Sect, said:"Abbot Benjue, Dharma Kings, Elder Fei—there is a Daoist temple nearby. I invite you all to come and speak further."
Wu Tong smiled:"We are all men of righteousness. Since fate has gathered us, let us go together."
Thus the company departed toward the nearby Daoist temple.
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