Chapter Forty-Three: The Elder in the Azure Robe

After climbing the mountain for half a day and discussing matters for more than an hour, all four were ravenous with hunger, and even the little imp began to wail for food. Thus, preparations for a picnic commenced.

Since it was a picnic, it was only fitting to sample some wild game. The vegetation atop Heavenly Sword Peak was lush, with several streams flowing through, providing an ideal haven for birds and beasts. Li Zhao wandered through the woods and soon caught four plump wild chickens.

The problem, however, was that none of them had brought cooking utensils. How then to prepare their meal? Simple—they would make a dish that required no cookware: beggar’s chicken.

Li Zhao twisted the necks of the four birds, leaving them unbled and unplucked. He drew a small dagger and made an incision at the back, from which he removed their entrails. Taking out seasonings—fine salt, Sichuan pepper, and black pepper—he rubbed them evenly inside the cavity. He then wrapped each chicken in broad mountain yam leaves, coated them in sticky clay shaped into ovals, and tossed the four clay balls into a blazing fire.

When the flames had died and the embers cooled, he struck the hardened clay shells with a stick until they cracked open, revealing steaming, succulent white meat, glistening with fat.

“The aroma, it’s incredible! I’ve never tasted such fragrant chicken. What a treat today!” exclaimed Bao’er.

“Jade Lad, your literary and martial skills are unmatched, and even your culinary arts are first-rate. Truly, you are a man of many talents!” another praised.

The imp howled in delight.

“Ha! Let’s eat!” cried Li Zhao.

In no time, the four people and their canine companion transformed into gluttons, devouring the four beggar’s chickens until only a pile of bones remained.

Sated and happy, Jin Bao’er led the imp into the woods, sometimes picking wildflowers, sometimes gathering tart wild jujubes, playing with boundless joy.

Despite having climbed a mountain for half a day, the girl still had such vigor and stamina; her constitution was truly rare in the world—even Li Zhao admitted he paled in comparison.

Meanwhile, Li Zhao and Cui Zongzhi did not remain idle. At the summit stood a towering jujube tree, laden with fruit. The two men sat beneath its shade and engaged in their favorite pastime. What could two grown men possibly do? Of course—they played Go. (If your thoughts wandered elsewhere, reflect on them yourself.)

The ancient text "Ode to Go" by Ma Rong of the Later Han states: “To observe Go is to study the art of war; the three-foot board is a battlefield.” Thus, the ancients equated Go with warfare. More precisely, Go evolved from war; a master of Go surely possesses the potential to command armies.

Having climbed to the perilous peak and admired the scenery, it was only natural to play a match, amid their discussion of military tales.

The steep paths of Heavenly Sword Peak made it impossible to carry a heavy board and stones. How, then, to play? Easy—they would improvise. With a stick, Li Zhao drew a nineteen-by-nineteen grid on the ground.

Cui Zongzhi gathered fallen wild jujubes for white stones, while Li Zhao picked small pebbles for black stones.

Everything prepared, the game began.

“Brother Zongzhi, your skill in Go has grown ever more refined lately. I admire you!” said Li Zhao.

“Ha! As the saying goes, ‘Birds soar with phoenixes, men’s character rises with the virtuous.’ Living together with Jade Lad day after day, how could I not improve, even a little?” replied Cui.

“I am but a commoner, living a reclusive life in the countryside, having achieved nothing for family or nation. How could I dare be called ‘virtuous’?” Li Zhao demurred.

“No, no! Tigers and leopards hide in mountains, unicorns are buried in wilds. With your talents, Jade Lad, someday you will surely rise to greatness; to command armies and serve as minister will be but a trifling matter. On that, I’d wager my very head!” declared Cui.

When it came to Go, Li Zhao was much more skilled than Cui Zongzhi. Since becoming acquainted, they had played at least a hundred games, and Cui had never won.

Yet Cui was clever—a man who, despite repeated defeats, gradually devised a strategy for the weak against the strong. When faced with a formidable opponent, direct confrontation was futile. So, he abandoned frontal assaults, retreating when pressed, skirmishing here and there, seizing opportunities as they arose, and letting go when they did not. He did not fret over gains and losses in the moment, but accumulated small victories into a larger one, gradually exhausting his opponent’s strength to seek ultimate triumph. In truth, Cui’s tactic resembled guerilla warfare.

According to this strategy, after seventy or eighty moves, the white stones not only held their ground but even gained a slight advantage, making Cui beam with hope for victory.

The issue was that guerilla warfare was the hallmark of the Red Army. Before crossing to this world, Li Zhao had spent five years as a mountain special operations soldier. To use guerilla tactics against him was like brandishing a broadsword before Guan Yu or reciting essays before Confucius—pure folly!

Very well, since you play guerilla, I’ll respond with an iron encirclement and precise strikes.

Under Li Zhao’s direction, the black stones stopped entangling everywhere and seized the four corners of the board, then extended from corners to edges, then to the center, forming a massive net. Advancing layer by layer, closing in from all directions, he gradually compressed the white stones’ space and successfully surrounded a large white dragon.

Once the dragon was slain, the white stones were doomed.

“Jade Lad, your methods are too ruthless. Of ten matches, nine you slay my dragon. I ought to give you a nickname: the Little Blackhearted Dragon Slayer!” Cui exclaimed.

“Dragon Slayer is a fine nickname, but why add ‘blackhearted’?” Li Zhao laughed.

“Hmph, look at your play—vicious, sinister, endlessly cunning. It’s like being entwined by a venomous serpent; if it bites, it sinks deep, refusing to let go. You deserve the ‘blackhearted’ moniker!” Cui replied.

Cui Zongzhi had spent many days with Li Zhao and understood his character: loyal, generous, clear in his relationships—ready to brave fire and water for friends and kin.

The sages said: “A man’s character is mirrored in his play; a gentleman plays Go with candor and openness.” But this did not apply to Li Zhao, whose style contrasted sharply with his character. In the game, he deployed schemes—tricks, traps, and feints—unceasingly, each move more poisonous than the last!

It was as if two opposing souls inhabited his body: one saintly, the other devilish.

But let us return to the story.

Cui Zongzhi, unwilling to have his dragon slain, directed the white stones to struggle desperately, but each attempt to break through was thwarted by black stones, leaving him frustrated and helpless. With no options left, he prepared to resign.

Just then, a large, round jujube fell from the tree above, landing precisely on the lower left corner—at the five-six position on the board.

This heaven-sent stone instantly changed the game.

That five-six position was a vital eye for the white stones; now, with their own stone filling it, it was as if they had committed suicide, instantly suffocating more than twenty stones.

Yet, in so doing, a large area was cleared, giving the white dragon room to maneuver and a chance to break out.

It was like a man bitten by a venomous snake on the hand, with no cure in sight—only by decisively severing the hand could he hope to survive.

“Ha! Venomous serpent bites, the hero severs his wrist. If not for Heaven’s guidance, I would never have devised such a way out. Truly, Heaven favors me!” Cui Zongzhi rejoiced and drove his white stones to break through, launching a fierce assault.

The black stones fought to block him, but having lost the initiative, failed to contain the white dragon, which soared free.

After a while, the game concluded, and they counted the stones. The board, with its 361 intersections, showed black occupying 180.5 and white 181.5.

By the “every empty point counts” method, the result was a draw.

For those unfamiliar with Go, why the half-point? Simple—a double-living eye appeared on the board, and by rule, each side claims half, thus 0.5.

“Ha!” Cui Zongzhi, who had lost countless matches to Li Zhao, finally achieved a draw—a victory of sorts—and laughed so hard his nose bubbled with joy.

Though this victory was a stroke of luck, none could deny that luck is a formidable strength.

Had Liu Bang not been lucky, he would have perished at the Banquet at Hongmen, and the Western Han would not exist.

Had Liu Xiu lacked luck, he could not have won at Kunyang, and there would be no Eastern Han.

At the Xuanwu Gate, Emperor Taizong relied on three parts skill, seven parts luck.

In short, winning by luck is nothing to be ashamed of.

...

On the other side, Li Zhao picked up the jujube that had dropped from the sky, played with it in his hand, and frowned slightly. What was going on—was he unable to accept defeat?

Not so. A man should be magnanimous, able to embrace the world; fame and fortune can be taken lightly—let alone a single game of Go. Li Zhao was not one to begrudge defeat; rather, it was the manner of his loss that puzzled him. Was the fallen jujube Heaven’s will, or someone’s doing?

“Those who silently observe the game are not necessarily gentlemen; to correct an error is to be a good teacher. Since you have intervened, why conceal yourself? Please, come forth and show yourself,” he called.

“Jade Lad, whom are you speaking to?” Cui Zongzhi asked.

“A master,” Li Zhao replied.

“A master? Where?” Cui wondered.

“Ha, far as the horizon, yet near as before your eyes!” Li Zhao answered.

As he spoke, Li Zhao’s right hand rested on his waist, secretly gripping a throwing dart, his gaze fixed on the grand jujube tree beside them, thick with verdant foliage.

Was someone in the tree?

“Ha! Just a wandering crane, hardly worthy of the title ‘master’... Here I come!” A hearty laugh rang out as an elderly man leapt down from the high branches, landing as swiftly and silently as a cat, but many times more agile.

The old man, about sixty, was of medium build, slightly thin, his hair grizzled. He wore a half-worn indigo robe, a treasured sword at his waist, and a small wine gourd hanging from his belt.

His appearance and attire were ordinary, but his presence exuded a chilling aura, as if standing before them was not a man, but a sword—a peerless blade capable of cleaving heavens and slaying dragons.

‘This man is extraordinary,’ thought Li Zhao. ‘If we fought head-on, I wouldn’t last three rounds. Remarkable, truly remarkable!’ Though confident in his own abilities, Li Zhao felt like a minor talent before a grand master.

Undoubtedly, this was a supreme master of the sword.

Of course, in direct combat, he stood no chance, but if it came to a life-or-death struggle in the wild, who would prevail was uncertain. After all, martial arts and killing are entirely different things.

At present, Li Zhao’s martial skills ranked as third-rate, but his killing techniques were first-class.

“Young man, I’ve spent years honing my skills—not that I’m accomplished, but my ability to conceal myself is barely adequate. How did you discover me?”

“You are too modest, elder. When it comes to hiding, you are at the pinnacle, blending seamlessly with your surroundings. My skills are meager and would not have detected you, except you revealed a flaw.”

“Oh? Where was my flaw?” asked the old man.

“First: this jujube is half-green, half-red, not fully ripe, and bears a tear at the stem, showing it was plucked by hand, not fallen naturally.

Second: There are many jujube trees here, attracting countless birds, but not a single bird alighted on this king tree, indicating something frightened them. No matter how skilled a person is at hiding, they cannot fool birds—they are the true spirits of nature.”

...

“Indeed. So young, yet so keen in observation—a hero in youth!” The old man nodded in praise.

“I have lived reclusively for many years, not adept with people. When I saw your group at the summit, I didn’t know how to respond, so I hid in the jujube tree. Watching you two play Go beneath, and seeing your ingenious moves, I couldn’t resist dropping a jujube and intervening. Forgive my abruptness!”

“Not at all, elder. Today, to receive guidance in Go is a great fortune—how could I resent it? If you love Go, would you care for a match?” Li Zhao invited.

“Gladly,” the old man replied.

After a brief exchange, Li Zhao sensed no malice from the old man and invited him to play Go; the elder accepted with delight.

By custom, the two sat face to face, drew lots for first move, and Li Zhao won, taking the white stones and making the opening move...