The Sage, the Swordsman and the Scholars

Chapter 1 A Fateful Acquaintance part 1

INTRODUCTION

            “The Sage, the Swordsman and the Scholars” is an-action adventure, martial arts, historical fantasy set in late medieval Ming Dynasty. It also employs figures and concepts from ancient worldviews unique to the Middle Kingdom, a civilization known today as “China”. It therefore creates an alternate history and fantasy epic for modern readers, while drawing inspiration from the popular Chinese genre of Wuxia (martial arts fantasy) for the mainstream audience.

            The philosophical insights that have largely influenced The Sage, the Swordsman and the Scholars have been inspired by a unique interpretation of Tao or the “Way” (classical Chinese science, philosophy and metaphysics), ancient Chinese Heaven worship, and key teachings from Mozi (Master Mo) who, during his time, was as prominent a philosopher as Confucius or Mencius. The tides of history however, have brought Confucianism at the forefront of Eastern thought and Mozi’s teaching, though largely forgotten, has been experiencing a small revival in academia. 

Name Pronunciation Guide

PROTAGONISTS

Sun Xin – soon shin

Famin Jie – fah meen jyuh

Zuo Shilong – z’woh shee long

Meiling – may ling

MARTIAL SCHOLARS

Lu Guanying – loo gwun ying

Tian Qiu – t’yen cho

Zhang Sunzan – jang soon zan

Shang Jian – shang j’yen

Zhen Shu – jen shoo

IMPERIAL MILITARY/ GOVERNMENT OFFICERS

Zhu Youcheng “Hongzhi”(present emperor) – joo yo chung “hung jee”

Zhu Di “Yongle” (past emperor) – joo dee “yung-luh”

Xuanda emperor – shwun-duh

He Feishen – huh fayshen

He Jin – huh jin

Liu Quan – lyoo chwen

Han Bin – han bean

Zhou Liang – jo lyang

Wei Qiuyuan – way cho ywen

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A FATEFUL ACQUAINTANCE

HE HIKED PENSIVELY THROUGH THE marshy and sparsely wooded landscape of the province of Guangxi. His head hung low, and though his body moved in a purposeful direction, his mind spun and wandered more than usual. He had just returned from the desert regions of the western edges of the Ming Empire after having hunted down a troublesome warlord who had long caused havoc and unrest in the region. However, the success of his mission no longer left him with the same feeling of satisfaction. A gaping hole in his heart nagged at his soul, and the possible  meaninglessness of his deeds was becoming more and more apparent. Sun Xin was entering the tenth year of his wanderings in the empire yet, for all his accomplishments, he felt emptier than when he had first begun. Much had changed within him since he took the first step on his lonesome journeys throughout the Middle Kingdom.

       Over the years he had made friends and enemies, and forged fragile alliances with rivals if he had not already eliminated them. His greatest frustration however, stemmed from the questions that plagued his mind. Does anything I do even matter? Are the pain and anguish worth the effort? Though his personal crusade had entered its first decade, a sense of futility was beginning to grow with his every action. In fact, it appeared that the more he tried, the worse it became. It was not enough, yet his only chosen recourse was more and more killing. His heart grew as frosty as his blade.

      So many years had been invested into his sword, but how much longer would he have to continue these quests? He was but three years from the age of thirty, and already the incessant fighting and endless roaming on every quest would, in time, leave little room for additional scars on his body. Reality was weighing more heavily on his mind than anywhere else. However, the utter hatred he carried for those he considered unworthy to be kept alive inspired him to continue the fight. Sun Xin was without a horse so he undertook his long and uneventful journey on foot. The lack of speed added to his frustration.

     His thoughts and feelings continued to conflict as he cut his way through the marsh. He ignored the fact that he had just entered the misty dominion of the Crimson Moon Sect— one of the many bothersome rebel groups experiencing resurgence across the land. They were naught but deluded cutthroats who have deemed themselves worthy of a “righteous crusade”.

      Away from the noise of his troubled soul, it was the rustling of leaves, the melody of a stream, and the whispers of the wind that produced the sounds of the forest in the morning. Even the locks of his long black hair danced to the left and right of his face. A melancholy song slowly entered in harmony with the music of the forest. Sun Xin played his flute to the rhythm of that flowing stream to calm his spirit and clear a clouded mind. Into the heart of the forest he strode under the rays of sun light beaming between the trees.

      The peace and the music were abruptly disturbed by the sudden, though expected appearance of the Crimson Moon Sect. Out from the undergrowth they leaped and stood before him motionless, hooded, and clad in black. The whole forest fell silent, leaving only the menacing sounds of their rasping breaths and the faint rattling of their chained sickles. The silence of the air was broken by the sudden whistle of a rushing arrow rapidly approaching from his rear. In one swift motion and a spin of the heel, Sun Xin drew his sword and slashed the arrow mid-flight. Together, the occultists attacked when his back had turned, but they were quickly dispatched by the masterful strokes of his blade; a deep thrust into the chest of the first followed by a diagonal s***h across the belly of the second were enough to neutralize the threats. More arrows darted toward him, but he dove away from their trajectory. The bowman was obscured amongst heavy bamboo foliage, so Xin made a mad dash to his position and cut the bamboo to reveal the shooter who then vanished in a plume of white smoke.

    What was left of the bodies he had slain had seemingly vaporized into thin air. Empty. It was typical of the trickery practiced by the dark ones. He scoffed at their pathetic attempt to ambush him, but such was the nature of his journeys across the countryside. 

      “They never learn,” he muttered to himself.

      He drew a sharp sigh, sheathed his sword, and tightened the chin strap of his broad-brimmed hat. He continued down a hidden trail deep into the thickness of the forest. The foliage canopy eventually led into an opening revealing a small river valley. In the distance, embracing a mountainside engulfed by mist and mountain fog, stood a small homestead surrounded by colorful vegetable gardens. Gray smoke ascended from the rooftop eaves that gently curved up to the sky. A sign above the door post of the cabin read Heaven watches over this home. He had passed by the remote homestead before. It looked inviting and perhaps its resident would allow a weary traveler food and brief respite. It was in the moment when he approached the front steps of the cabin that Sun Xin suddenly staggered and struggled to keep his footing.

          His vision narrowed and a terrible burn scorched the back of his neck. When he had felt for it, a crimson stain streaked across his palm. An arrow had, indeed, managed to leave its mark on him. He fell at the doorstep of the cabin and faded into unconsciousness…