Chapter Forty-One: Stone City of Tianzhu

Liu Qingshan had already visited Yu Chenhui, known as the Sword Saint, carrying the Shouguang Sword. As previously surmised, the old master’s admiration for him far surpassed mere curiosity. Despite his reputation as a master swordsman, Yu Chenhui could not last more than a few dozen rounds against Liu Qingshan’s eccentric sword techniques. Yet his conduct and virtue were as worthy of respect as his nickname suggested; he showed no trace of despondency at being bested in his own specialty so late in life. On the contrary, his face was alight with excitement, and he promptly gifted the Shouguang Sword to Liu Qingshan.

Yu Chenhui, a distinguished martial artist and swordsman from the Mantis Sect, was a titan in the martial arts world. The Shouguang Sword had gained renown because of his status, and at first Liu Qingshan dared not accept such an honor. However, his son explained that Yu Chenhui’s true family treasures were a pair of twin swords and a shark-fin blade, even more precious than the Shouguang Sword. Moreover, the gift came with a condition: Liu Qingshan was to help the Mantis Sect cultivate two disciples skilled in the Nameless Sword Technique. For now, Liu Qingshan’s art was provisionally called the Nameless Sword Technique, and he had already met the two chosen disciples: Yu Yi, Yu Chenhui’s eldest nephew, and Mao Shaochong, his third apprentice. Both young men were just over twenty, not particularly tall or robust but solidly built, with Yu Yi being a recent graduate from a prestigious university.

Though they followed Liu Qingshan, there was no formal master-disciple bond; instead, they regarded each other as equals. While Liu Qingshan traveled to India, the two would take the Shouguang Sword to Beijing, awaiting his return for further instruction. Having witnessed Liu Qingshan’s demonstrations firsthand, they were utterly convinced of his near-masterful ability and pledged unwavering loyalty, which was one of the reasons Liu Qingshan was happy to temporarily accept them.

The film crew’s destination was a place called Stone City. It was said that Tang Jieli, when selecting the location, was inspired by "Journey to the West," which mentions Stone City in its thirty-second chapter. In reality, such a stony mountain truly exists, situated in southern India in a village called Hampi.

Hampi lies over 350 kilometers from Bangalore and was once the capital of the Vijayanagara Empire. Historically, the area boasted numerous temples and palaces, flourishing in prosperity. Later, however, the dynasty fell, the city was pillaged, and it was abandoned.

The party split into two groups: the main crew went first to Bangalore and then by car directly to Stone City, while the lead actors, including Liu Qingshan, headed to Delhi to greet the other leading actress, Mallika Sherawat.

Originally, the first choice was the internationally renowned Bollywood star Aishwarya Rai, but before negotiations could even begin, Mallika herself came forward. A devoted fan of Jackie Chan, though she lacked the global status of Aishwarya—Miss World and queen of Bollywood—her youth, the distinctive beauty and mystery of her Eastern heritage, and her candid personality and fiery physique made her perfectly suited for the role. She was also widely popular in her own country.

But the arrivals in Delhi included more than just Mallika and a few local supporting actors. Tang Jieli had also invited, from New Zealand, the horse trainer from "The Lord of the Rings," who would accompany the crew’s cavalry throughout filming. This trainer was especially tasked with training Jackie Chan’s horse, teaching it to rear and jump.

In "The Myth," the horse would become one of Jackie Chan’s companions in battle, responding to his commands and kicking enemies with its hind legs—a feat never before seen in any film.

The enormous investment in the film was due to the director and producer Jackie Chan’s decision to use entirely new digital post-production effects, combined with traditional martial arts, to create action sequences unprecedented in Chinese martial arts cinema.

These specialists were separately invited, with their colleagues already part of the crew, remaining in China to prepare for the final major scenes.

Even the crew’s meticulous hiring of professional horse trainers revealed their rigorous attitude toward the film. Many scenes in "The Myth" would employ Hollywood’s most renowned special effects teams, aiming to create the most grandiose ancient battlefield ever seen in the history of Chinese cinema. Considering all this, the two-hundred-million investment seemed hardly excessive.

Mallika herself waited at the airport, and upon seeing Jackie Chan, she exclaimed and ran to embrace him, showing not the slightest restraint of a first meeting. Jackie Chan was delighted, his face wrinkled with laughter, especially now that Sister Qiao was not nearby to supervise him.

Among those accompanying Mallika was Kunal, a tall, strikingly handsome Bollywood actor who immediately set local women in the waiting area screaming. Mallika introduced him, saying, “This is Kunal. Besides his fame, he knows some Chinese kung fu. Shaolin boxing is his specialty!”

Jackie Chan and the others responded with friendly praise, while Liu Qingshan secretly smiled. His system could directly display others’ skill levels as data; Kunal’s martial value was a mere 12, extraordinarily low. Yet by Liu Qingshan’s experience, reaching double digits already made one a professional stuntman—Zhen Zijian, one of Hong Kong’s four masters, had only a value of 28.

They did not need to go into the city from the airport, as the horse trainer’s group was staying at a nearby hotel. Soon, they would catch a flight to Bangalore, then take a train to Hospet, and finally a car to Hampi.

Upon arrival, two days had passed. The local trains were not as shabby as rumored, and even within the same train there were different classes; first-class air-conditioned sleepers were quite comfortable, though rather slow.

Along the journey, Liu Qingshan and Kunal developed a deep friendship. There was even a debate between them, sparked by the origin of Buddhist martial arts. According to Indian belief, Chinese Buddhism originated in ancient India, and legend credits Bodhidharma for contributing to Shaolin martial arts. Liu Qingshan did not dispute this, but Kunal’s claim that Shaolin kung fu was inferior to Indian martial arts was met with obvious disdain.

Indian martial arts schools often had Buddhist backgrounds, but the authentic techniques had long been lost. Despite Kunal’s own skills stemming from Chinese Shaolin, he insisted their strength lay in Indian Buddhist influence. In the end, words failed; Liu Qingshan toppled him with a single move, and even when Kunal tried several times to reset and challenge him, he was always subdued with just one maneuver.

Realizing the gap between them, Kunal clung to Liu Qingshan, following him everywhere and repeatedly calling him “Master,” as if he’d learned it from someone else. Liu Qingshan, unable to shake him, agreed to teach him a few flashy moves.

Standing nearly two meters tall, broad-shouldered and strong, Kunal gave the impression of being Liu Qingshan’s sidekick, an imposing figure indeed. With his handsome face, whenever they were in crowds, local women often flocked around him. Because of this, Liu Qingshan, for more than a month afterward, became equally popular among local women.

Kunal, unable to resist, introduced Liu Qingshan to everyone he met, saying, “This Chinese man is my master.” Strangely enough, this method of introduction proved quite effective.

Jackie Chan and others teased Liu Qingshan more than once, saying he could make a living in Bollywood without ever returning to China. The reason was simple—not only did his own artists Mallika and Kunal appear in the film, but Jackie Chan himself was also somewhat famous in Hollywood. Thus, Mallika’s company sent a large contingent of support staff and organized countless extras ahead of the crew’s arrival.

Many in Mallika’s company noticed Liu Qingshan’s martial arts choreography, and with Kunal loudly promoting him, they came to believe Liu Qingshan was already a household name in China.

Hampi, now a small village, was once the imperial capital reigning for two centuries. Sadly, after being conquered by Muslims, the city was destroyed, and it has faded into obscurity ever since. Yet the empire left a precious legacy: within just 26 square kilometers, there are more than forty historical architectural sites, rivaling the scale and artistic value of Cambodia’s Angkor Wat.

Though not abandoned, Hampi is still home to some original inhabitants, lending the village a touch of worldly vitality. Yet the sense of desolation is profound, and in many corners, traces of a fallen empire are evident.

In Hampi, one finds not only temples reminiscent of Cambodian architecture but also buildings in the Indian style. The hill where the town sits is covered with massive boulders, seemingly fallen from the sky—a true “Stone Mountain.” Unlike Cambodia’s rugged style, these stone structures are more refined, and judging by their degree of wear, they seem almost newly built. They are typical Hindu temples, but the unique elements of Stone City make them quite special.

What impressed the crew most was the view from Hampi’s highest point. The path up was easy enough, the mountain not particularly tall, but the sweltering heat of over forty degrees in May nearly did in the travelers. Fortunately, upon reaching the summit and surveying Stone City, all fatigue vanished.

How to describe the sensation? It was as if witnessing the Milky Way—utterly awe-inspiring. The mountains, built from countless small stones, stretched endlessly, boundless to the horizon. People seemed as insignificant as pebbles, standing amid vast nature, making the greatness of the universe all the more palpable.

Imagine filming scenes in such soul-stirring surroundings; the resulting images would leave an indelible, majestic impression.

Despite the oppressive heat, everyone felt a surge of happiness. Each evening after work, many would climb atop the giant boulders—sometimes two or three stories high—on the mountain, enjoying the cool breeze and the setting sun, an experience of rare beauty.

It was often at these times that a small group of six—Jackie Chan, Liang Jia Hui, Tang Jieli, Mallika, Liu Qingshan, and Kunal—would set out food and wine, welcoming the evening breeze and sunset, lingering for two or three hours in contentment.