Chapter 9 — The Transmission of Arts

"Zhang Qingyue!"

The shout was sweet-voiced, yet it struck like thunder. Zhang Qingyue woke with a start. He opened his eyes and found himself staring straight into a gaping maw and two rows of pointed fangs. He let out a shriek of terror. "Aaah!"

"Giggle giggle giggle..." A peal of laughter came from behind.

It took Zhang Qingyue a good while to collect himself. Only then did he realize that what loomed before him was a large yellow dog, fully half a man's height, its coat a gleaming, glossy yellow, sprawled on his own bed. Behind the dog stood Tian Lingsu, dressed head to toe in tight-fitting red, bent double with laughter.

Zhang Qingyue stole a glance at the great beast. Its frame was massive, its fangs sharp, a long tongue lolling out of its mouth; it looked thoroughly ferocious. He had never seen a dog that size before, and a thread of fear crept into his heart. Then he looked at Tian Lingsu's beaming face and murmured, "Senior sister, what is it?"

"What is it?" Tian Lingsu repeated with a smile. Then her expression abruptly hardened; her brows knit, and she said loudly, "It's broad daylight and you're asking me what is it? Get up this instant. You and I are going up the mountain to cut bamboo."

Zhang Qingyue blinked, puzzled. "You're coming too?"

"Of course I am, you idiot. Every disciple of this branch spends his first three years hacking 'black-joint bamboo' on the mountain. I started when I was ten, and this is my last year. Hey—are you still lazing in bed?"

Zhang Qingyue hurried to answer, then carefully edged around the big dog and slipped off the other side of the bed, fumbling his clothes on in a flurry.

Tian Lingsu called out, "Catch," and tossed a billhook to him.

Zhang Qingyue caught it in both hands. It was an ordinary woodcutter's billhook, and surprisingly heavy in the hand. Once he was ready, he said to Tian Lingsu, "Senior sister, shouldn't we bring Senior Brother along?"

Tian Lingsu shot him a look. "Didn't you hear me? Only new disciples have to do chores. It's just you and me cutting bamboo today. Now come on."

With that she beckoned. Before Zhang Qingyue could move, the big yellow dog on the bed suddenly sprang up, leapt down, wagged its tail, barked "woof woof" twice at him, bared its teeth in a show of ferocity, and bolted out the door.

The bark sounded familiar to Zhang Qingyue. He recalled hearing several barks yesterday when he returned with Senior Brother—this must be the same big yellow dog. He thought to himself, "The Canglan Sect really is something. Even a dog they keep for fun is much bigger than any in our village."

He followed Tian Lingsu out of the room. The hour was still early, the morning young; stepping out into the covered corridor and looking toward the rear mountain, he saw wisps of mist still drifting faintly among the peaks.

Thus the two of them and the one dog set off for the rear mountain of Dazhu Peak.

Yesterday, carried in Song Dayi's arms, the slope had seemed just a short stroll away, the path easy. But today, walking it himself, he had gone barely halfway before the grade grew steeper and steeper, and the distance proved far longer than he had imagined.

By contrast, Tian Lingsu beside him—not using that "Amber Vermilion Silk" of hers today—still walked with effortless ease, her small red figure flitting along the mountain path, light as could be. And the big yellow dog needed no mention at all: it was bursting with energy, darting ahead one moment, racing behind the next, now and then plunging into the woods by the path on who knew what business, then emerging a while later from some other spot with a rustle of leaves and branches, looking altogether thrilled and sprightly.

After another half hour or so, Zhang Qingyue was gasping hoarsely, his legs aching, worn to the bone.

Tian Lingsu, walking ahead, took one look at him and snorted. "Useless. Stop and rest a bit."

Zhang Qingyue nodded hastily and dropped where he stood, gulping for air. The big yellow dog had vanished again, off who knew where.

He panted for a good while before his breath gradually steadied. Sitting on the mountain path, he looked down and saw Dazhu Peak standing tall and upright, the surrounding mountains all a head shorter, as if in proud disdain.

"Senior sister, there's something I'd like to ask you, if I may..."

Hearing the timidity in his voice, Tian Lingsu turned her eyes on him. A little flush of satisfaction rose in her; she unconsciously smoothed her hair, put on a solemn face, and said gravely, "Go ahead."

"Why is cutting bamboo our chore? I thought chores would be cultivation of the Dao and its arts."

Tian Lingsu curled her lip. "What do you know? For those who cultivate the truth, the body is the most important thing of all. My mother says that if the body is weak, then even with supreme wondrous methods, one cannot practice them. Our Canglan Sect springs from Daoism and places great weight on nurturing life and strengthening the body. The deeper one goes in cultivating the Dao, the more important the body becomes. Take one of the highest and strangest arts in our Canglan Sect, the 'Divine Sword that Commands Thunder'..."

Zhang Qingyue shuddered, his face changing color.

Tian Lingsu looked at him strangely. "What's wrong with you?"

Zhang Qingyue came back to himself, his expression shifting. He stammered, "N-nothing. It's just—the name sounds so long and so formidable."

Tian Lingsu glared at him. "Of course it's formidable. It's one of the arts that anchors our Canglan Sect, and precious few can master it. My father says that to work this true incantation, you must use your own body as the lure, aided by a divine weapon's blade, to draw down the thunder of the nine heavens. That majestic, heaven-sent power—before it, all who stand in its way are swept aside. Its might is peerless."

Zhang Qingyue sighed. "I see."

Tian Lingsu went on: "So think about it. Even with the true incantation shielding you, the power of heavenly thunder is no small thing. An ordinary person, once touched by it, is instantly reduced to ash. The caster may have cultivated deeply, but if his body is weak, he'll likely be struck dead by the divine thunder before he can do a thing—so much for sweeping all before him." She glanced at Zhang Qingyue. "That's why my father assigned you this chore—all for your own good. And there you are, looking like you can't stand it."

Zhang Qingyue jumped up in alarm. "That's not so! I would never, never dare show the slightest disrespect to Master, and I'm not unwilling at all. Ah—I've rested enough now. I'll go, I'll go right now!"

He snatched up the billhook and went pounding up the slope at a good clip. Tian Lingsu watched his receding back, smiled faintly, and followed.

At long last he scrambled up to the little slope, utterly out of breath. There, before the bamboo grove, the big yellow dog had somehow already lain down; seeing the two of them arrive, it barked "woof woof" a couple of times, without bothering to rise, then turned its head away again.

Zhang Qingyue stared. "So fast!"

"You mean Dahuang?" Tian Lingsu came up behind him, not a trace of flush on her face nor shortness in her breath.

Zhang Qingyue pointed at the big dog. "His name is Dahuang?"

Tian Lingsu said, "Yes. And don't underestimate him—he's formidable."

Zhang Qingyue murmured, "I'd say so. With a build like that, he must have been raised at least twenty years."

Tian Lingsu scoffed. "Hardly!"

Zhang Qingyue said in surprise, "Not even twenty years? Dahuang certainly grows big."

At that, Dahuang barked fiercely at Zhang Qingyue from up ahead.

Tian Lingsu said, "I mean, hardly that few. Hmm, let me count. I think he was already here when Fourth Senior Brother arrived—that makes seventy years. No, wait—Third Senior Brother said he was here when he came too, so that makes ninety-seven years. Ah!" She suddenly cried out, startling Zhang Qingyue, who hurriedly asked, "What is it?"