Chapter Forty-Five: I Can Tell Tales of Martial Heroes!

Who is Pei Min? If you ask that question in later generations, few would know the answer. But in the Tang Dynasty, he was known to all, famed throughout the empire.

Pei Min hailed from Hedong. Gifted and martial-minded from childhood, at eight he became the disciple of a mysterious recluse in the mountains, from whom he learned exquisite martial arts. At twenty, he traveled to the Eastern Sea, observing the rivers converging, the ebb and flow of tides, and from this gained insight into a sword technique he named "Sword of the Vast Deep." Its moves were fierce and unstoppable, like surging waves crashing ashore.

At twenty-four, Pei Min joined the army. By thirty, he was promoted to general, guarding the strategic city of Beiping, leading campaigns against the Xi and Khitan tribes, earning repeated military honors and rising to the post of Grand General of the Imperial Guard. Tiring of the intrigues and flattery of the court, he resigned and wandered the world.

By forty, Pei Min had vanquished countless masters and gained the title "Sword Sage, First Under Heaven," revered by thousands. Yet this Sword Sage was as elusive as a dragon—sometimes journeying among majestic mountains, sometimes traversing quiet fields, his whereabouts a mystery. No one expected that today, atop the Heavenly Sword Peak, Li Zhao and his companions would encounter him.

The ancients said: "When you meet a master, let not the chance slip by; to lose it is a crime." Li Zhao, eager to protect himself and his loved ones, had long wished to learn martial arts but never found a worthy teacher. Now, face to face with the foremost Sword Sage, Pei Min—could there be a better choice?

Not only was Pei Min's swordsmanship peerless, he was adept at wielding a cavalry lance, sweeping it in battle like a wheel, breaking enemy lines, seizing chieftain heads with ease. His archery was likewise formidable. While guarding Beiping, the region suffered frequent tiger attacks; Pei Min rode alone into the mountains, slaying thirty-one tigers in a single day, driving the rest deep into the wilds, ending the threat.

The great poet Wang Wei praised him in verse:
At his waist, the Seven-Star Sword gleams,
On his arm, the war bow bears honors from a hundred battles.
They say he captured cunning foes in the clouds,
Now we know Heaven has a true general!

"Masterful in martial arts, invincible in the world"—such words Pei Min deserves without question.

But to become his disciple is no easy matter. First, Pei Min’s movements are mysterious; he is seldom seen and hard to find. Second, his standards for students are exacting: noble character, exceptional talent, devotion to swordsmanship, endurance and perseverance—and a temperament that matches his own.

Over the decades, countless noble youths and bold young men sought to enter the Sword Sage’s tutelage, but none succeeded. It was said that even the Emperor once wished Pei Min to instruct the Crown Prince and other royals in swordsmanship; Pei Min politely refused.

If he dared deny the Emperor, it goes without saying that Li Zhao’s chances were slim.

What to do?

Give up? Impossible.

He must find a clever way. If a frontal approach won't work, a roundabout tactic will—heh!

"Master, your spirit soars to the clouds, and I am full of admiration. Sadly, night approaches and our chess game remains unfinished. If you do not mind, would you care to stay at my humble home for a few days? It is just ten li away in Qianlong Ridge, a place of serene beauty, free from disturbance. There, we could freely discuss chess.

I also run a distillery, making a fine liquor—enough for you to drink to your heart’s content, as much as you like!"

Li Zhao said nothing of swordsmanship or apprenticeship, using chess as an excuse to invite Pei Min to stay nearby, adding the bait of strong liquor.

Li Zhao’s plan was clever: if he could bring Pei Min home, spend time together, build rapport—by persistence and patience, he would surely succeed in becoming a disciple, sooner or later.

"No need," Pei Min replied, "I am accustomed to a free life, not fond of living with others. As for the chess game, you have already breached my carefully laid defenses—let's say I concede defeat. As for the wine—ha! Mere indulgence, nothing more. I’ve lived long enough, such temptations hold no sway."

Thus, chess and wine failed to move the Sword Sage’s heart.

Li Zhao sensed that Pei Min had seen through his intentions—the Sage’s half-smiling expression gave it away. What a sly old fox!

What now?

Easy! Everyone has desires: some crave wealth and beauty, some fame and fortune, others empire and dominion.

Pei Min is human too, no exception.

He may scorn riches and honors, but there is one thing he cannot refuse—the pinnacle of swordsmanship.

"Haha, since you will not, I shall not insist. Today, to climb a perilous peak, meet a master, play chess, and witness such swordplay—I am content. Yet, while watching your sword dance, a story came to mind, related to swordsmanship. Would you care to hear it?"

"Oh? Speak."

"Yes. When I was young, I read an ancient tale called 'The Divine Condor and Heroic Partner': Long ago, there was a youth named Yang Guo, handsome, clever, and chivalrous. Sadly, he was gravely injured by villains, losing an arm, then wandered into a secluded valley.

There he met a giant divine condor, taller than a man, with a blood-red bulge atop its head, fierce and majestic. The condor battled a massive, triangular-headed serpent, locked in deadly struggle. Yang Guo, moved by chivalry, aided the condor, slaying the serpent.

The condor, intelligent and grateful, led Yang Guo deeper into the valley, where they found a cave. Inside, only a stone table and stool, and in the corner a pile of rocks resembling a grave. On the cave wall, words carved with a sharp blade read: 'For over thirty years I wandered the martial world, slaying foes and defeating heroes. None could match me. With no challenge left, I retreat to this valley with the condor as my only companion. Alas, a lifetime spent seeking a worthy rival, but none found—such loneliness is hard to bear.'

Signed: Sword Demon—Dugu Qiubai!"

Li Zhao paused, glancing at Pei Min across the table. The Sage’s eyes were half closed, but his ears were keenly attentive.

Bai Mo, Cui Zongzhi, and Jin Bao’er were entranced, urging Li Zhao with their eyes to continue.

"Yang Guo recited the inscription several times, amazed and admiring. This legendary master, invincible in the world, had to hide in a deep valley. His martial prowess must have reached unimaginable heights.

Called the 'Sword Demon,' his swordplay was surely divine. His name, 'Seeking Defeat,' suggests he roamed the world in search of someone who could best him, but never found such a rival, and eventually died in solitude. Moved by the master’s legacy, Yang Guo knelt at the grave and paid his respects.

The condor, pleased by Yang Guo’s reverence, led him out of the cave to a great boulder inscribed 'Sword Tomb.' Beneath it were four stone boxes. Yang Guo opened each in turn:

The first held a sharp green sword, four feet long, shimmering with light. Beside it, words read: 'Fierce and mighty, shattering all obstacles. In youth, I used it to battle heroes of Hebei.'

The second box was empty, save for words: 'Ziwei Soft Sword, used before thirty. It brought misfortune by wounding a friend, so I abandoned it in the valley.'

The third box held a heavy black sword, just over three feet, weighing seventy to eighty pounds, with no edge on either side. Beside it: 'Heavy sword without edge, perfect simplicity, wielded until forty, dominating the world.'"

…

At this point, Li Zhao paused again, watching Pei Min. The Sage now opened his eyes, trembling with excitement.

To ordinary people, it was merely an intriguing martial tale. But to Pei Min, it was thunder and lightning—shattering the darkness, illuminating the path ahead, awakening his dulled mind.

At eight, he met a master in the mountains, learned swordsmanship, and set his life’s ambition: to become the greatest swordsman in the world.

At forty, he fulfilled that goal—traveling all lands, defeating countless challengers, recognized as Sword Sage, First Under Heaven. In that moment, he howled at the sky, his joy beyond words.

Yet after that immense joy came an even greater emptiness, confusion, and pain—for he had lost purpose. It was like climbing to a cloud-piercing peak with great effort, only to find, once atop, nowhere else to go.

For twenty years, he wandered the empire, seeking answers by every means, but found none.

And today, this young man, with a martial tale, awakened him.

He realized that what he’d conquered was but a small hill—greater, more perilous peaks awaited him.

Heavy sword without edge, perfect simplicity... The swordplay of Dugu Qiubai had reached the pinnacle, transcending all bounds.

But after the sharp sword came the soft sword, after the soft sword the heavy sword, and after the heavy sword—what then? Pei Min yearned to know.

Not only Pei Min, Bai Mo, Cui Zongzhi, and Jin Bao’er all wanted to know, urging Li Zhao to continue.

"Ahem... That ancient book has long been lost, and I was young when I read it, so the later parts are hazy. Allow me to recall—it’s getting late, so we must return home. Since you do not wish to come with us, take care of your health, and may we meet again someday. Farewell!"

Li Zhao laughed, picked up the little rascal, took Jin Bao’er by the hand, and swaggered down the mountain. Bai Mo and Cui Zongzhi exchanged glances and followed.

Only Pei Min remained, standing alone atop the peak.

He looked at the receding figures, then at the unfinished chess game, uncertain what to do.

...

On the way down, Cui Zongzhi kept glancing back, full of regret: "Yulang, are we simply leaving? Isn't this a missed opportunity? Shouldn't we return and plead—perhaps the Sword Sage will reconsider?"

"Haha, this man is no ordinary person; begging is useless. But rest assured, Brother Zongzhi—within three days, he will come to us."

"Really?"

"Of course. The bait is set—how could the big fish resist?"