Chapter 5: The Exiled Immortal Challenged by the Gun
Li Zaixing immediately felt a pang of guilt. Whose poem is this, if not yours?
“Do you remember any other lines from this poem?” Li Bai’s eyes blazed with interest, his expression that of a hunter excited by the scent of prey.
“Uh…” Li Zaixing hesitated, for he knew little of Tang poetry—aside from the few lines commonly memorized by schoolchildren, nearly nothing came to mind. He didn’t recall all of “Bring in the Wine” either, just a few fragments. He’d hoped to curry favor with Li Bai, but the moment he opened his mouth, his ignorance was laid bare. He dared not continue the charade; perhaps Li Bai would overlook it, but Li Mi was a shrewd and perceptive man. “I’m not well-versed in poetry,” Li Zaixing admitted, “I happened to hear that line by chance, and likely remembered it wrong. I am ashamed.”
Li Bai looked disappointed, but quickly let the matter drop. He sized up Li Zaixing. “I’ve heard from the Prodigy Li,” he said, “that though you lack literary accomplishment, your martial skill is impressive, and you aspire to a military career to win honor and merit. Would you care to show your skill?”
Only then did Li Zaixing realize Li Bai’s purpose in seeking him out, and he was caught between amusement and exasperation.
A contest? With Li Bai?
Li Zaixing hesitated briefly, then shook his head with a smile. “That won’t be necessary.”
“Why not?” Li Bai raised an eyebrow. “Are you afraid?”
Li Zaixing laughed inwardly. Though you’re famed as a swordsman, before me your swordsmanship is merely talk. Why should I be afraid of you?
“Immortal Li, fists favor the young,” Li Zaixing replied with deliberate nonchalance. “Though you are strong and healthy, you’re nearly fifty and have wandered the world for years. If I bested you, it’d hardly be honorable—people would laugh at me. What would be the point? For me, there’s nothing to gain; for you, the same. Why compete, then? Besides, fists and spears know no mercy—were I to injure the Banished Immortal, how could I live with myself?”
Li Bai had never truly intended to duel with Li Zaixing; he was merely annoyed by Li Mi’s attitude and sought to provoke. He would have dropped the matter had Li Zaixing been conciliatory, but though Li Zaixing’s words were polite, their meaning was anything but. Especially those final lines, spoken with an air of absolute confidence, which Li Bai found galling.
You… injure me? You think you could injure me?
Li Bai’s smile faded. He stepped back, drew the long sword from his waist, and under the afternoon sun, its blade flashed cold and bright. With a flick of his wrist, he spun the sword into a flower and said coolly, “Young man, I took up the sword in my youth, learned from General Pei, and sparred with many a wanderer. Though I don’t claim to be invincible, I am no ordinary hand. Now that fate has brought us together, how can I refuse a contest?”
Li Mi saw Li Bai truly angered and grew anxious. He hurriedly interjected, “Immortal, your fame is unmatched, your swordplay renowned—why compete with a country lad? You’d be bullying the weak, not very dignified for a man of your stature, ha ha…”
Li Bai shot him a glance and sneered, “I’ve spent time among barbarians and have become a bit undignified. No need to remind me, Prodigy.”
Li Mi realized he’d struck a nerve and fell silent, casting pleading glances at Li Zaixing, urging him to yield and pacify Li Bai.
Li Zaixing ignored him. He’d already set his sights on the splendid Turkic steed Li Bai rode. At first, it was mere admiration, but now that Li Bai had challenged him, he saw an opportunity he wouldn’t let slip—to win the horse from the Poet Immortal and begin training with lance on horseback as soon as possible.
At this point, his mind was set on goading Li Bai into a wager; there was no thought of backing down.
“Immortal, let’s not,” Li Zaixing declined again. “Fists are made for killing, spears for the battlefield—years of hard training are for killing the enemy and earning merit, not for sport. Besides, your reputation is legendary, your friends countless—if I were to hurt you, how could I ever find a place in this world? Please, Immortal, don’t press me.”
Li Bai grew even more incensed, brandishing his sword and insisting on settling the matter by force.
After much back-and-forth, Li Zaixing sighed, “How about this? Though I’ve lived in the mountains, I’ve long admired your name and hoped to travel with you. Since fate has brought us together, and you wish to test me, I’ll oblige you. If you win, I’ll follow you from now on as your attendant—how about it?”
Li Mi, having sensed Li Zaixing’s intentions, glanced from one to the other and laughed, “Immortal, what do you say?”
“Excellent!” Li Bai replied, sheathing his sword with a long laugh. “To have a hero such as you to hold my horse—I couldn’t wish for more!”
Li Mi added, “Zaixing is wagering himself—Immortal, what will you stake?”
Li Bai hesitated. Li Zaixing was wagering his person; he could hardly do the same and offer to be Zaixing’s attendant if he lost. Yet the stake could not be too paltry, lest it seem he was bullying the weak, which was not his way. After a moment’s thought, he gritted his teeth. “Did you see the Turkic steed tethered at the gate?”
Li Mi nodded, though with little interest. “I saw it. But, Immortal, you’d wager a horse against a man?”
Li Bai shot him a glare. “That’s a dragon stable imperial steed, a gift from the Son of Heaven. It has accompanied me across the land these many years, dear as a son…”
“That’s fitting, then,” Li Zaixing interrupted before Li Bai could change his mind. That horse was his quarry, and seeing Li Bai’s reluctance, he didn’t want the conversation to veer off course.
The terms set, Li Zaixing picked up the long pole leaning against the wall, removed his bundle, and strode to the courtyard. With a twirl of his wrists, he smiled, “Immortal, please instruct me.”
Li Bai looked at him in puzzlement. “You mean to face me with that unsharpened white staff?”
The pole in Li Zaixing’s hands was not truly a proper weapon—barely over ten feet long, without an iron spearhead, more like a staff than a spear, unfit for formal combat. In the Tang dynasty, soldiers used the shuo, or white-pole spear, and infantry weapons not unlike Li Zaixing’s pole, hence Li Bai’s question.
“It’s only a friendly contest, not a fight to the death. This will suffice.” Li Zaixing smiled, stepped back with his right foot, grasped the pole with both hands, the tip angled to the ground. “Immortal, please.”
Li Bai was further irritated. To him, Li Zaixing’s use of an unsharpened pole was a slight. Very well—he’d defeat him first, then prove his own strength. Without another word, he tucked the hem of his robe into his belt, gripped his sword, and took a stance.
A three-foot-long blade against a ten-foot staff—with such reach, Li Bai would have to close the distance by at least six feet before he could even touch Li Zaixing. Once in close, his sword would have the advantage. At the outset, then, he sprang forward, sword aimed straight at Li Zaixing’s face.
An inch longer, an inch stronger; an inch shorter, an inch more perilous. Both men understood this. If Li Bai succeeded in closing the gap, Li Zaixing would lose. As the great master Wu Shu said: “A true spear kills with every move; none can approach within twelve feet. Within three feet in front, not even a fly can enter.” There was no way Li Zaixing would allow Li Bai to get that close.
At Li Bai’s first movement, Li Zaixing struck preemptively. His forward hand remained steady as his rear hand pressed down, and the pole’s tip sprang up from the ground—Iron Ox Plowing the Field transformed into Four Seas Submitting, the tip thrusting at Li Bai’s chest with a speed and lightness that seemed almost supernatural, as though Li Bai himself had charged into it.
Li Bai’s expression grew grave. His sword flicked up defensively, but he abruptly halted his advance, forcibly stopping his own momentum.
Li Zaixing silently praised him. Li Bai’s reaction was not merely showy, but truly practical swordsmanship. Still, the fact that he stopped rather than pressed on proved that, though he wielded a killing sword and may have killed before, he’d rarely, if ever, fought for his life. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have halted at the first sign of danger.
A three-foot sword against a ten-foot spear—if he couldn’t get close, how could he hope to win?
Li Zaixing’s confidence soared. The spear’s tip tapped lightly against Li Bai’s sword, then dropped, shifting once more to Iron Ox Plowing the Field as he stepped forward half a pace. Li Bai, seeing an opening, prepared to lunge, but before he could, his knees buckled—both struck simultaneously by the spear’s tip.
Though Li Zaixing hadn’t used his full strength, Li Bai felt a sharp pain and could no longer advance. He halted, bracing himself with his sword planted in the ground to keep from falling. Looking up, he saw Li Zaixing’s smiling face and the gently swaying tip of the white pole.
“What… what spear technique is this?” Li Bai’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. He’d been so intent on victory, yet lost at the very first exchange. Now his knees were numb and weak; he couldn’t move at all. If Li Zaixing wished, he could strike wherever he pleased—victory was decided.
“The Hundred Birds Facing the Phoenix, one of Lord Huan’s Eight Spear Techniques,” Li Zaixing replied, giving it an impressive name. He couldn’t claim it was Yang Family Spear, which wouldn’t exist until the Song dynasty; best to attribute it to Zhang Fei.
“Spear of Lord Huan, Zhang Fei of Shu Han?”
“That’s right.” Li Zaixing withdrew the pole, stepped back, and, holding the ten-foot shaft in one hand, spun it in a circle and tapped the dripping eaves tile under the roof. With a crisp crack, the tile shattered.
“Immortal, would you like another round?”
New book—please recommend and add to your collection!