Chapter Eighty-Seven: The Contest Begins

Yuan Tingyu stroked the goatee beneath his chin and went on. “When the islander heard me say that their own arts of the Way had been introduced from China, he argued back. And when argument failed, he proposed today’s contest of mystical skills.

I do not approve of such pugnacity and bloodlust, but since those islanders came right to our gate to humiliate Mount Mao, we had no choice but to take up the challenge.”

“Then why seal the mountain gates? If the villagers from below were allowed to come and watch, would it not be even better to strike a hard blow to those islanders’ faces?”

At Zhou Yi’s words, Yuan Tingyu could not help but shake his head and sigh. “That islander said that if we were to contest, then it should be a friendly exchange of martial skill and fellowship. If even I, the head master of Mount Mao, were to step forward, then the original intent would be lost. So he set the terms: only the younger generation may fight.

These days, who among the young still devotes himself wholeheartedly to the study of the Way? Among the younger disciples of my Mount Mao, not one has passed through heavenly tribulation; Mu Chen is the senior brother, and even he is only at the peak of the azure energy stage.”

Only then did Zhou Yi understand. So Yuan Tingyu had shut the mountain gates because he feared losing the contest; Mount Mao could not afford such disgrace.

“The Way does not speak of lifespan. The islander’s terms are mere petty provocation,” Zhou Yi said, frowning.

Yuan Tingyu lifted his teacup, took a sip, and continued. “It is only my own fault for being careless that day, for boasting recklessly. Ah...”

How could Zhou Yi not guess what had happened? Yuan Tingyu must have been bragging to someone, only to inflate his boast beyond all reason and leave himself unable to step down.

“How many bouts have been agreed upon?”

“Nine bouts to decide victory. My Mount Mao younger generation can field only six, and all of them are at the azure energy stage.” As he spoke, Yuan Tingyu’s disappointment grew even deeper.

“And the wager?”

Yuan Tingyu shook his head. “This concerns the reputation of Mount Mao. That alone is the greatest wager. We cannot afford to lose.”

Since Buddhism entered China, the native Taoist traditions of China had gradually declined. By now, the Chan school alone held great power, and the country’s indigenous Daoist inheritance had fallen into desolation, its talents depleted and its vigor broken.

“When is this contest? Have you invited anyone else?”

Yuan Tingyu shook his head, indicating there were no reinforcements. “The islanders are probably still on the road. They should arrive by noon.”

“Send word down the mountain at once. Tell the disciples to spread the news that the Taoists on the mountain will battle the islanders today, and the more people who come, the better.” By then, Zhou Yi already had an idea.

Yuan Tingyu frowned at Zhou Yi’s words and could not help asking in confusion, “Are you certain of victory, sir?”

Zhou Yi shook his head, admitting he had no certainty. “But we can use the principle of matching strengths against strengths and weaknesses against weaknesses. If we win five bouts, then we win overall. The only question is whether these islanders will fall for it.”

In this contest of mystic arts, five victories out of nine would suffice. What he had in mind was the stratagem of pitting the best horse against the middle horse, and the middle horse against the worst. If Mount Mao’s disciples could win two bouts, and with Mu Chen, Baozi, and the others, they could make up the required five.

Yuan Tingyu frowned in thought for a moment, then instructed Mu Chen, “Do as Master Zhou says. I do not believe for a moment that our Chinese arts of the Way are inferior to those islanders.”

In truth, Yuan Tingyu spoke to Zhou Yi in this manner because Zhou Yi had already passed through heavenly tribulation and was a true master. Power determines standing; only for that reason did Yuan Tingyu treat him as an equal in rank. If Zhou Yi’s cultivation had been ordinary, how could someone of Yuan Tingyu’s status have spoken with him at such length?

Zhou Yi and Baozi had rushed to Mount Mao without pausing for breath after receiving Mu Chen’s call for aid, and by now they were utterly exhausted. Soon, he and Baozi would be the key to the outcome, so they had to seize every moment to recover their strength.

Breakfast had already been prepared for them. It was simple enough: congee and steamed buns. The two side dishes were too bland, and neither Baozi nor Zhou Yi cared for them. In the end, they had to fetch two large scallions and a plate of pickles.

That suited both of their appetites perfectly. Without ceremony, they sat down and ate.

Before they had finished, Mu Chen returned. “The news has already been spread. What should we do next?” He looked at Zhou Yi as he spoke. Though they had not known each other long, the eldest disciple of Mount Mao had, without realizing it, already come to look to Zhou Yi as his guide.

“Have you eaten breakfast?” Zhou Yi asked, looking up.

Mu Chen did not understand why he asked and shook his head. “Not yet.”

“Then eat first. Worrying will not help. When those islanders arrive, we will simply beat them back.” As he spoke, Zhou Yi handed Mu Chen a steamed bun and continued eating.

His composure was only a show for Mu Chen’s sake. Psychological pressure was crucial at this moment. If even Mu Chen, the senior disciple of Mount Mao, lacked confidence, it would deal a blow to the morale of the other disciples. And if morale failed, defeat was already decided.

Yet the manner Yuan Tingyu had shown in front of Mu Chen had already affected him directly. After arriving at Mount Mao, Yuan Tingyu had sent Mu Chen to summon the villagers up the mountain to watch the contest: first, to bolster Mount Mao’s morale; second, to cut off Mount Mao’s retreat, for once there were so many villagers watching, Mount Mao could not lose, and could not afford to lose.

After eating, the three of them sat where they were and entered meditation.

At the first hour of noon, ten islanders in martial attire arrived at the foot of the mountain, followed by a great many villagers who climbed upward with them. The scene made it appear as though the villagers were following the island warriors, putting those warriors on high alert.

“Do not be afraid, everyone. These villagers have come to watch the contest. Our country is a land of propriety; we would never stoop to a cowardly ambush from behind.” Seeing the band of island warriors arrive, Yuan Tingyu rose to greet them.

“My Namekawa family has come today to fulfill the appointment. May I ask whether Master Yuan is prepared?” The man who came bore a sevenfold resemblance to Namekawa Yuji; without question, he must be a close relative.

“Does the gentleman have anything further to say? If not, let us begin.” Yuan Tingyu was not one for needless chatter and went straight to the point.

“Master Yuan is indeed forthright, then let us begin.” Namekawa Inoue turned and sat down. At a glance, it was clear that Mount Mao had prepared only one chair for their side, while there were seven beside Yuan Tingyu.

One of the warriors behind Namekawa Inoue stepped forward at once, but was stopped by him. Namekawa Inoue turned and said something in his own language to the warrior. No one present understood it, but from the expressions of the two men, it was not hard to see that he was telling the warrior to endure and restrain himself.

“Please, Master Yuan, send your disciple into the ring,” Namekawa Inoue said after speaking, switching to Chinese for Yuan Tingyu.

Yuan Tingyu stroked the goatee beneath his chin and smiled. “Since the rules of this contest were set by the gentleman, naturally the gentleman should send the first man into the arena.”

Earlier, when the matter of the contest was raised, morale was especially important. To begin with a victory and rally the spirit of the crowd was naturally the best course; otherwise Yuan Tingyu would not have argued with Namekawa Inoue over who should send the first man in.

Namekawa Inoue smiled and nodded, then turned to one of the island warriors. “Ono, I leave it to you.”

The islander called Ono nodded. “Hai.” With that, he stamped both feet on the ground and leapt directly onto the platform.

The levels of Japanese cultivation differed somewhat from those of China. The internal energy surrounding Ono was a deep green, but from the aura he gave off, it was not hard to tell that if his cultivation were classified by white, yellow, blue, and purple, then he would likely be at the azure stage.

Yuan Tingyu glanced back at his disciples, and in the end his gaze settled on his third disciple, Mu Yang.

Mu Yang understood at once and bowed low to Yuan Tingyu. “Your disciple is willing to serve as the vanguard.”