Chapter 82: Tireless in Teaching

The scholars of the academy heeded He Chang’an’s advice and began to contemplate and deliberate upon the so-called “division of disciplines,” finding themselves busier than ever. The soldiers escorting the grain and supplies were mostly rough men who had just entered the lowest ranks; teaching them a bit of fist and footwork was one thing, but getting them to read and write was like forcing ducks to climb trees, and they all complained bitterly. The laborers were much the same, even worse at studying than He Chang’an himself.

Yet, scholars have always been renowned for their patience. From beginning to end, they remained calm and even-tempered, believing it perfectly natural that students lacked a love for learning. As teachers, it was their duty, of course, to guide tirelessly and instruct without weariness.

Now, with the advent of the division of disciplines, Li Yishan, Ma Dai, and Shen Yan stood upon a height and called out, “Who wants to become a master of martial arts?” “Who wishes to be king of the blade?”

The soldiers and laborers alike looked up, casting glances at the three as if they were fools, pity filling their eyes, muttering, “See, I told you—too much book learning rots the brain, believe it or not.”

The enthusiasm of the scholars suffered a heavy blow, but they were too embarrassed to consult He Chang’an again and so could only stew in silence.

He Chang’an found it amusing and took the opportunity to offer the scholars some earnest advice, teaching them how to advertise their “new doctrine.”

Shen Yan proved the quickest to learn. He selected several clever students from among the three hundred and began fashioning simple bows, crossbows, and animal traps from the materials at hand, hunting along the way and procuring several cartloads of game.

That evening, everyone feasted on generous portions of meat and drank rich, savory broth, lifting the spirits of all.

As a result, more than a hundred laborers came to learn the craft. The soldiers, however, scoffed, dismissing such trifles as tricks for peasants. For men accustomed to military life, these were child’s play—everyone had made such things by hand before.

But Shen Yan was in no hurry. Being a scholar, he understood the importance of gradual progress.

While the students taught the laborers these “little trinkets,” he began working on grander creations, such as the “Talisman Sword,” “Spirit Stone Blade,” and “Soul-Piercing Spear.”

Shen Yan had a knack for quick understanding and analogy—He Chang’an had only to mention an idea, and he could devise a complete plan for design and manufacture.

For instance, when He Chang’an wondered aloud, “Could we perhaps combine talismans with ordinary weapons?” Shen Yan’s eyes lit up; slapping his forehead, he immediately dashed off.

The next day, he reappeared with an iron sword, smiling sheepishly at He Chang’an. “I tried making a sword—have a look.”

He Chang’an took the sword, and his expression changed slightly.

Was this still an iron sword?

The blade was densely carved with strange patterns. By rough count, He Chang’an saw that they formed four attack-type talisman clusters.

“So, this is the Talisman Sword?” He Chang’an asked, face twisted with curiosity as he swung the blade experimentally.

“This is my design. Infuse it with a trace of righteous or spiritual energy, and you can trigger the talismans inscribed on the blade…” Shen Yan had been full of confidence, but seeing He Chang’an’s frown, his certainty wavered.

“Why don’t you give it a try?” he suggested cautiously.

He Chang’an handed the sword back, smiling. “It’s your creation; you should try it.”

With that, he quietly stepped back seven or eight paces.

Chuckling awkwardly, Shen Yan took up the sword, infused it with a thread of righteous energy, and prepared to thrust it at a large stone nearby—

A thunderous bang—and the sword exploded.

…

An hour later, Shen Yan awoke groggily. He didn’t need to relieve himself to know what a wreck he’d become.

But the man was truly tough. Forcing himself upright, he suddenly burst into wild laughter, exclaiming, “I did it! I did it!”

He Chang’an, Li Yishan, Ma Dai, and the others exchanged glances, sympathy in their eyes, suspecting that Shen Yan’s mind had been addled by the blast.

“You scoundrels, don’t think I’ve lost my wits!” Shen Yan laughed, staggering over to He Chang’an. “You were right—too much is as bad as too little!”

When did I ever say anything that profound…?

“Heh, as long as you understand.”

At a glance from He Chang’an, Li Yishan and Ma Dai stepped forward and carried Shen Yan back to his tent.

From a distance drifted his cries: “Let go, I’m fine! I can do it!” In the dead of night, it was a little unsettling.

He Chang’an breathed a long sigh, shaking his head with a wry smile. Scholars of the Great Tang were not only quick with words but rather skilled with their hands as well.

Thinking no more of it, he waited until the camp was quiet and all was still, then set about practicing his ancient boxing forms—those which Zhang Yichao had once mocked as “trash.”

Every punch and kick was executed with utmost care.

On the Clear Wind Moonlit Hill, though others may grow stronger, I too shall strive.

Beneath the vast heavens, upon the open earth, a youth practiced his forms, a bamboo sword at his waist, steeped in ancient style.

…

While Shen Yan was recovering from his injuries, Mr. Ma Dai, after much pondering and burning of midnight oil, finally achieved some results.

He fused his own experience in the arcane arts with the warriors’ body-tempering methods, the Confucian cultivation of righteous energy, and Daoist swordplay, creating his own sword technique—the “Coming of Spring.”

Learning from Shen Yan’s misfortune, Mr. Ma Dai tested it repeatedly, having his dozens of followers drill it en masse. Once convinced it could be widely taught, he quietly sought out He Chang’an.

After witnessing the “Coming of Spring” swordplay, He Chang’an was astounded.

Was this not the Taiji Sword?

Apart from some differences in breathing, circulation, and the flow of energy—being closer to the Confucian method of nourishing righteous energy—this “Coming of Spring” was practically the prototype of the Taiji Sword technique!

Light, fluid, endlessly flowing, graceful and leisurely, the forms were clear, and combined with the Confucian nurturing art…

“Well, is something wrong?”

Mr. Ma Dai finished his demonstration, cheeks flushed, breath long and deep. Yet, as it was his first time creating a sword form, he was clearly nervous.

“Overall, this ‘Coming of Spring’ is quite impressive. Truly, you’ve done well,” He Chang’an said, patting his shoulder warmly. “If you could refine the mental, visual, footwork, and technical aspects—emphasizing intent over force, maintaining unbroken sword intent, each link forming a chain—it would be even better.”

By the end, He Chang’an was nearly improvising.

Thankfully, he had once accompanied Old Master X Lili to practice Taiji Sword in the park, otherwise he wouldn’t have realized how remarkable Mr. Ma Dai’s achievement was…

“He Chang’an, you sly dog, how do you manage to stick your needle into every seam?” Mr. Ma Dai burst out laughing, all the elegance of his swordplay gone. “One day I’ll teach you this peerless sword technique!”

He Chang’an nodded slightly. “Very well.”