Two
In the first place, this tournament was a competition for the title of Sword Saint with more than 30 participants. Only pure swordsmanship was competed against each other in a round-robin competition. The one who won the most matches would be recognised as the sword saint, which could also openly be referred to as the pinnacle of swordsmanship. As it was tradition, it was not a winner-takes-all competition. The reason was, that swordsmanship depended on the user’s physical condition, emotions and the luck of the moment on that particular day. The gist of the competition, which had been going on for more than a few hundred years, was that a winner-takes-all contest no longer served the purpose of a comparison of swordsmanship itself.
As they were basically comparing swordsmanship itself, there were some detailed restrictions. For example, when it came to the use of force, internal force against oneself was permitted, but external force against the opponent was a foul. As it was not a competition of witchcraft or black magic. Also, although this was largely the decision of the judges, settling a fight with a blow to a vital point of the body, throwing something, or agreements, among other things, were a violation of the rules. A spinning kick from the side, a vital hit in close combat. Parts that were mixed with teachings of the sword were permitted, but the rule was that in the end, the match had to be settled by sword. However, this also depended on the momentum and the course of actions on the field, and depending on the judging, exceptions were allowed which occasionally resulted in very vague conclusions.
Finally, regarding the decision of victory and defeat, it was allowed that one side expressed “surrender”, but many proud swordsmen were not willing to. This was also a major reason why the round-robin system had been adopted. In other words, participants could make excuses. There were excuses like ‘I wasn’t feeling well today, it’ll be different next time’ and indeed, there would be a next time, albeit against a different opponent. The intention of the organisers to allow this was to ensure that new swordsmen did not lose their lives and that they continued to train to become even better.
If, however, one side just could not admit defeat, it would only be settled by death. These people were those who had honed their art for the purpose of wielding a sword and finishing off their opponents with it. As the Thief of the Wind Dusts put it, these were the people who ‘have the ambition to die or get killed’. They were beyond help, he said. A bunch of fools who were willing to risk their lives for a mere swordfight. They had to be satisfied even if they died from an unexpected arrow, and probably only saw no other value in the thing called fighting.
Also, this year’s competition was notable for its duration, with a time limit of exactly half a day. In the past, there had been instances where competitors stared at each other while holding their swords, not moving a step until one side fainted just before the time limit and the winner was decided. The organisers believed that this was what swordsmanship was all about. If external force would be allowed, the swordsmanship itself could not be compared. If they were to allow it, anyone could force their way through, which would even lead to the conclusion that it did not matter whether a sword, a spear or even a wooden sword was being used and the name ‘Sword Art Assembly’ would no longer be appropriate.
And this was why this tournament was uncommonly strong backed in terms of raising the name of the sword. The backing of the Sword Saint’s rank. First of all, without a shadow of a doubt, they would be recognised as an honourable sword-wielder.
Even when the Thief of the Wind Dust chuckled sentences like “there’s no doubt that Shā Wúshēng’s bad name will dissolve like mist”, it seemed like someone else’s problem to Shā Wúshēng. Before he knew it, he was forced to participate. He wanted to tell him to stop messing around, but the Thief of the Wind Dust coaxed him in his usual way until he felt as if he had agreed to it himself.
“Just to be clear, I’m not going to open a dōjō just because I won this.”
“Well, the world will praise you nonetheless, you know.”
“To that extent will be uncomfortable.”
“Everyone is, at first. You will soon get used to it. Then you will gain a new truth.”
Shā Wúshēng had the feeling that he was being tricked in some way but it was still not enough to be considered dangerous. Just to the extent that he felt being teased by his friend. Just imagining the scene of himself, a well-known figure in the underworld, walking around the streets and receiving admiring glances from everyone was laughable to him. He thought that the Thief of the Wind Dust probably wanted to laugh at him too, and if that was what he thought to be fun, he would just let him do so. And, although he was not completely aware of it, he had a faint hope hidden inside his heart, that there might be something to be gained from this uncomfortable situation. It was not like he could have chosen to become the human called Shā Wúshēng. He was named that by his parent, raised like it and that was what he had become. There certainly had been several options but it would have not made much difference which one he chose. The Thief of the Wind Dust had presented him with a new name and a new way of life. This could never have been done by him alone. Because he was aware of this Shā Wúshēng was grateful, even if he did not put it into words. He considered it to be a light that shone into his gloomy life.
However, this was only if he would win this Sword Art Assembly. Without surprise attacks, strategy or external force, only sword techniques to be used to fight. And from the land of Dōng Lí gathered extraordinary swordsmen with confidence and backing, willing to die. Shā Wúshēng had no gaps in his swordsmanship and did not expect to have to retreat no matter who he faced. Still, he was not proud enough to proclaim himself the strongest swordsman in Dōng Lí. Hence, it was a challenge worth taking on.
This was also because of changes in the tournament’s centuries-long history happening at this moment. This tournament, where once numerous swordsmen competed in, was known as the Sword Saint Tournament, but was now called the ‘Sword Hero Tournament’. This was because no one could win. The title of Sword Saint had been taken by the same person in every tournament, which was only held every four years, and it had become a title only for this person. As he got older, his defeats decreased and he achieved a hundred victories and was finally given a permanent Sword Saint rank.
His name was Tiӗdíxíān1.
This person had already been the Sword Saint when Shā Wúshēng was born into this world and abandoned, and he still was. He got everyone to say that it shall stay this way until the moment when his life would eventually be called to the truth of everlasting life2. A revolutionary in the history of the Sword Art Assembly. He now had the highest rank of the judges who deliberated on the participants. Therefore no one could call themselves the Sword Saint any longer, a title handed over by him.
Somewhere along the line, the title ‘Sword Hero’ had been vaguely decided. On two occasions in the past, someone wished to have a match against Tiӗdíxíān himself, which he agreed to both times. With everything settled at a later date, they were brilliantly defeated. There had not been the slightest hint of the dullness of old age. He was the king of swords. This was the man known as Tiӗdíxíān.
He was once Shā Wúshēng’s teacher. The person Shā Wúshēng cut ties with because of the differences in their sword philosophy. And because of that, he was in the waiting room of this competition. It was not pride, but a solid support that allowed a person to be ‘unparalleled’ and to become the sword saint who represents ‘the strongest’. Right now, Shā Wúshēng could tell that to the person who would use this name arbitrarily. Regarding his sword theory, now was also a chance to verify its truth like never before.
He remembered when he used to naively talk about the Way of the Sword. With his question, he, who had strayed from the teachings, wanted to confront no other person than the man who brought him up, his sword master Tiӗdíxíān. It was not every day that he could get the chance to affirm that his younger self had been in the right.
He was drunk in high spirits but was not caught off guard. He did not underestimate. But while being in the waiting room Shā Wúshēng was elated even before he had yet to meet anyone for a match. What to do? Is it really a good idea? I’m going to win, he thought. He could really win against the Sword Saint. While being in the waiting room these thoughts along with certainty faintly passed by. He believed so because he had devoted the last fourteen years of his life to the sword.
This arena was originally a prison and it still was. Half of the participants were heinous criminals sentenced to death. They were assured that if they behaved in a civilised manner with their swordsmanship, their offences would be reduced by one level. Although it was a round-robin competition, the next opponent was not known in advance. They were not even told who was participating in the first place or could observe other people’s fights. Otherwise, the later the turn, the more advantageous it would get for them. If the external factor of strength was removed, swordsmanship was still a human activity, and despite the differences in weaponry, it could generally be understood by a decent master. Therefore, they could not be exposed and were isolated so that they did not know what kind of person they were dealing with next.
Shā Wúshēng rather enjoyed it. He was not interested in watching. People as good as him knew how many moves they would be facing when they saw their opponents competing against each other. And when he faced these opponents he would end it quickly with a better hand. The unknown was more enjoyable, he believed. But there was a limit to the unknown. It was beyond insane to be shot with an arrow in this waiting room. Sitting at the table, he thought about it a lot, but no answers appeared in his mind. At best, it was a surprise qualification. Someone who couldn‘t handle those arrows doesn’t deserve to participate in the tournament. But even if he thought so, it was hard to believe that they would shoot arrows with such a killing intent at this Sword Art Assembly, where the margin was set to allow surrender during the competition. For quite some time, Shā Wúshēng remained still in the room, but the moment he couldn’t take it anymore and was about to go outside, the Thief of the Wind Dust came back as if he had foreseen it.
“… It looks like the second round is already over”, he said calmly, “if you leave the room now, you’ll definitely get a point deduction or disqualification.”
“They really didn’t find you, right.”
“Who do you think I am?”
“Sorry.”
Sensing a slightly offended momentum in the words, Shā Wúshēng unintentionally apologised honestly and changed the subject as if he were embarrassed.
“… So, have you found out about that, Lüè?”
“Ah. Interesting things seem to be happening.”
“I think your ‘interesting’ is always dangerous.”
“I thought it would be quite an interesting story if they said it was a swordsmanship competition and there was a bow-user taking part, you know.”
“A bow? Why would an archer participate in the Sword Art Assembly?”
“Well. This was because he was praised for his excellent swordsmanship.”
“… And, what about it?”
“He lost the first match of the first round. His swordsmanship was insufficient.“
“Of course.“
A bow was a bow, not a sword. No matter how ingenious. It was unnatural for such a person to be able to participate in the Sword Art Assembly, and no matter how skilful he was, the judges were looking at his swordsmanship and not the way he won.
“I wouldn’t put up with that kind of name or being called that.”
“… He called himself Shénjiànshŏu3 apparently. Does it ring a bell?”
“But, it seems to be a masked man who claimed such.”
“A fake name.”
“True. That name is a little too fancy.”
“Then he didn’t plan to win in this tournament from the start.”
“But still, that archery skill is unusual.”
“… Anyone who wouldn’t be afraid to call themself Shénjiànshŏu around here?”
“Hm … have you heard of Sharp-Eyed Impaler?”
“I remember, but don’t know the details. His name was Shòu Yúnxiāo4.”
“It probably was that Sharp-Eyed Impaler person Shòu Yúnxiāo. He is the only one who can shoot arrows like this.”
“Huh?”
An unintentionally abrupt voice came out of Shā Wúshēng. A rare occurrence. It was such an unexpected story.
“… Why would that Sharp-Eyed Impaler participate in the Sword Art Assembly under a false name?”
“I don’t know that much about it.”
“So that’s how this situation came to be?”
“He said he was unhappy with the voting anyway.”
“Naturally. I don’t care if it’s Shénjiànshŏu or Sharp-Eyed Impaler at this point, he is a bow user either way. What kind of attitude he has, to be dissatisfied after taking part in the Sword Art Assembly. Is he an idiot or what?“
“… Well, when you say that much, it’s hard to tell the rest of the story from here, though.”
“I won’t be surprised by everything I’ll hear.”
“After his defeat was decided he shouted, ‘You don’t know that your dying place has already been decided’ and then set up four arrows at once, shooting one set after another without anyone having time to stop them. As far as they could be counted over forty were released.”
“… And that’s what this arrow is?”
“Yes. It was no doubt the strange skill of Sharp-Eyed Impaler, who is even said to be able to see a thousand li5 with his one eye.”
“There was no need to use it here.”
However, Shā Wúshēng also thought that the sweat on his back that he shed by repelling the arrows suddenly erupting out of the air was not in vain. Being able to experience what the Sharp-Eyed Impaler, Shòu Yúnxiāo’s arrow sounded, was a highly valuable experience for him.
“… As a result, this room wasn’t the place to die for me, though.”
“It has become the place of death for some people.”
“If we assume it was him, it would be too bad for the people he targeted.”
“Over twenty were killed and a similar number of them were injured. A few were uninjured.”
“… That’s impressive, even at the Sword Art Assembly.”
At a place where people who mastered swordsmanship gathered. No matter how much of a surprise something might be, it could be dealt with reasonably by average skill. Here, the archery was so great that it made Shā Wúshēng break out in cold sweat. He could imagine that it would have been a place of death for anyone who was not ready.
“Why not, supposedly this Sword Art Assembly is a place where people who have the desire to lose and die come together. The moment you can’t handle that arrow, as a swordsman you must accept death while chewing on your inexperience.”
“It does seem a little absurd.”
“You made it thought.“
“That’s true.“
“The world’s absurdities and the like come as a matter of course. Nothing will happen even if we complain about it. The point is how to prepare and react. If they say they took up the sword as a means to achieve this, in this case, it would mean that they were not prepared enough.”
This was an understandable but also unintelligible theory. However, when the Thief of the Wind Dust said it, Shā Wúshēng was somehow convinced. He was being cajoled.
“… And so, what about that Shénjiànshŏu or Sharp-Eyed Impaler?”
“They say he fled.“
“What is the jury doing?”
“Well if the other party really was the Sharp-Eyed Impaler it wouldn’t be weird if they assessed that they don’t have a choice.”
“That Shénjiànshŏu or Sharp-Eyed Impaler, what was the point of him coming here in the first place. What a nuisance.“
“Like I said, I don’t know much more. He could have been after the prize money or the trophy. But it seems this competition is set to change greatly.“
“… What is the change? Common sense would have made them stop.”
“It seems that the once-every-four-years Sword Art Assembly can’t be allowed to pretend it didn’t happen. Moreover, the inexplainable intrusion of a scoundrel caused a prolonged break.“
“But with that number of casualties, the event itself will not have a conclusion.”
“Hence the change.”
“… And specifically? Don’t waste time.”
“That is not my intention. Anyway about the continuation.“
“I can’t believe they still want to continue, though.”
“That’s called having a face, a face.“
“Can I win and call myself the Sword Saint in this situation?”
“I don’t see why not. In short, the murderous act was settled as an outrider. In other words, those who could not handle the arrow are not worthy of the name of Sword Saint in the first place. In fact, it could be said that the regulations are more demanding than in the past.”
Speaking for Shā Wúshēng personally, he didn’t care how this Sword Art Assembly changed. But that little common sense and humanity there was in him constantly asked the question: “What’s going on?” With more than half of the participants killed or injured, it was naturally tempting to shake one’s head and wonder if there was no competition in swordsmanship.
“Anyway, if that had been Shòu Yúnxiāo, then why would someone of his status behave in such a ridiculous manner?”
“The reason for this was that he participated for the prize money and trophy but did not succeed.”
“… Come to think of it, what’s the trophy?”
“Shénhuì Móxiè6.”
Even Shā Wúshēng would gasp when those words were said.
Shénhuì Móxiè. An unprecedented number of magic swords, demonic swords, sacred swords and evil swords, were once forged by sorcerers and magicians with all their might. Their origin could be traced back to an ancient war called War of Fading Dust. Only a few remained today, and many were also heard to be forgeries. It was already no more than idle gossip that the demon gods invaded the world of humans. And therefore, the Shénhuì Móxiè were also only valuable as a treasured item. Even if it was a forgery, there was no way to test its authenticity unless the demons attacked once more, or unless the demons that had retreated to the demon world came back again.
“… Speaking of it, I remember seeing one of these in the past.”
“Oh, was it genuine or a forgery? What was its name?”
“What was it again? It was some time ago after all.”
“That’s an important thing, can you remember?”
By being urged to remember by his friend, Shā Wúshēng recalled the name after all. What he had quickly forgotten more than ten years ago, became possible to speak about as if it had happened yesterday.
“Biting Sword – Trace of a Cracked Heaven7.”
“Forgeries with that kind of inscription are common. If it is a genuine work, it would be terrific.”
“It could be either way. As a sword without a purpose, it was always displayed at the dōjō.”
Shā Wúshēng saw the moment it went from being a real work to a forgery.
Long said to be an ornament that had lost its power, it harboured a small remaining amount that could be released, a Hùyìnshī8 who stopped by, assessed. He remembered that the man, who called himself Dān9-something, always had a frail-looking boy by his side. Now that the demons were no longer a threat, even the meagre strength of a single swing was considered dangerous in the human world, and a ceremony was held to release and squeeze out its power, with several high disciples allowed to witness the ceremony. Shā Wúshēng was one of them, so he saw it.
It was lightning.
Anyone who had seen it up close would say so. Any other person who was not a Hùyìnshī would say so. Only two people who were just swordsmen, not Hùyìnshī saw it as something different. Thunder was a hammer dropped on the miserable and low land from the distant and high heavens. Even if not hit directly, the aftermath of a strike, even a side strike, could kill people. In fact, two of the senior disciples collapsed and died on the spot. Shā Wúshēng did not even care that two of his friends, with whom he had worked hard as comrades, competed with each other and laughed together, had been struck. Neither did his teacher Tiӗdíxíān.
They were nothing more than two people on earth looking up to the heavens.
He realised that it had been the thunder of rebellion that was spitting from the earth to the heavens and not the other way around. Everyone who stood on the same ground as their brothers, who had just fallen and died, was worried and upset but Shā Wúshēng even wondered why they did not see this lightning.
The light there was already gone. The rest of them saw nothing. Only the reverberation became black shadows, rose up and pierced the white sky.
“… What do you see Shā Wúshēng?” he heard his master ask.
“It looks like a giant tree, master.”
“It looks that way to me too. It’s rare that we agree on something.”
What also seemed to be a giant tree was the appearance of the master. He had a huge body like no other. An appearance that may grow as it ages reminiscent of an old tree. And yet it had not withered. To Shā Wúshēng it did not sound like a joke when he was once told with a sarcastic laugh how big he would grow if left unchecked. Since shortly before this ceremony he had been in disagreement with his teacher about something about swordsmanship. Most of the time he was defeated, but because Shā Wúshēng knew that he could not know what he did not know, and could not trust what he did not trust, he defied his master’s teachings and sought his own path.
“Heaven, earth and humans see the same things differently. Heaven will probably think this is just a black stain. Only when on the ground does this appear to be a tree. But Shā Wúshēng. What do you think how it appears to be in human’s eyes, this thing?”
“In what way would a human see it?”
“Whatever, they could just look up so much that they bend themselves back.”
In this way, they look even higher than the shadow that trenched from the earth to the heavens. The only thing in Shā Wúshēng’s vision was the black crack spreading to the white heavens as if piercing it open. There were the cracked heavens. Therefore the name of the Biting Sword – Trace of a Cracked Heaven was agreed upon. But this had been the last flash of the Shénhuì Móxiè that bore this name. It was also everything about the swordsmanship that Tiӗdíxíān was trying to impart. Pierce the distant and high heavens with the body of a human. The thunder that will ring out at that time will be a beautiful ballad that shatters the heavens. The destruction of the Shénhuì Móxiè was tantamount to calling it the transmission of the secrets of the art of war. The spectacle of that moment, not the sealing but the exhaustion of power, was a lesson that supersedes ten thousand oral instructions.
“I would not call this swordsmanship technique invincible, Shā Wúshēng. Some people may not be able to understand. In fact, it may even be makeshift. But Shā Wúshēng. That’s what swords are all about. Whatever the arguments and whatever its decorations, it is merely a tool to be used and to kill people. And once they reach it and are satisfied, it will end up looking like that.10”
That is a shell, his teacher once pointed to it and said. He did not know how many demons it had defeated, but it had used up all the power in its body and was now just a blade that hardly cut and was hard to use.
A giant tree, drawn only with ink on a white paper. That itself was the end of the former Biting Sword.
That was the only Shénhuì Móxiè that Shā Wúshēng knew. He never wanted it. Even if it had been a real one that still possessed full strength. There was only one reason: its shape was too elaborate to be used as a sword. Basically, it was not a sword to be used as such, and once the power of the divine was removed, it was really just a decoration. He did not know what his master wanted to convey through it. But he thought it was a disgraceful thing that could only be used as a decoration without power and reduced to a form that could not be called a sword. On the other hand, he felt that this would be his personal sense of value. If it was a genuine piece, some people might want it very badly.
They may need it to be a forgery. The world was already a place without demons. Besides, Shā Wúshēng didn’t expect the ability to provide a true work of a Shénhuì Móxiè regularly at this quadrennial tournament.
The prize would not be worth much and would be a mere formality. Even his mentor, what he had was nothing more than a shell of its former self. In short, it was all about winning this tournament and receiving the title of Sword Saint.
Everyone surely thought so, which was why Shòu Yúnxiāo’s heinous act was so inexplicable. He had a suspicion that the prize offered in this competition was, unlike the times before, a real Shénhuì Móxiè.
“… For me, it would be good if a real Shénhuì Móxiè is worn at the waist of Screaming Phoenix Killer the Sword Saint, and I know it would be good for you too.”
“That is indisputably so. The appearance of the Sharp-Eyed Impaler has confirmed the value of this Sword Art Assembly, the value of winning it, you know.”
“That would be fine.”
“My sword is unequalled in the world. I have faith in that.”
“I agree with you Shā Wúshēng.”
“It’s reassuring to hear you say so, Lüè.”
“… Well, at any rate, if the tournament is to continue in this state, I would rather interpret it as a saving of time and trouble.”
“The round-robin is a hassle. Even more so with over 30 participants.”
“I asked the administration about it, but they said they would change it to a single-elimination only for this tournament.”
“I wish.”
“… I, you know Wúshēng. I want you to grasp another side of life, a different truth.”
“I know. And I’m sure I’ll get it.”
“However, the opponents are all mighty warriors who have finished the outrider.”
“You think I’m going to lose to them?”
“No. You’re going to make it to the final round. And be the only one to stand on your own two feet to the end. That is what I believe.”
“And the Shénhuì Móxiè on my waist, eh?”
“Appropriate for a swordsman champion. Appropriate to purify the cursed Shā Wúshēng.”
Shā Wúshēng let out a deep and long sigh. He thought that his life, which he was tired and weary of, could be changed. With this in mind, he met the Thief of the Wind Dust’s gaze head-on then embraced him with his arms. He thought that the Thief of the Wind Dust was the first person in his life whom he could call a friend without hesitation, after growing up without being loved by anyone. It was all he could do to hold back the tears.
“Thank you Lüè. And I’m going to win and survive this.”
“Yes, of course. I have no doubt whatsoever that you are the last one standing.”
There was still tobacco smoke from the kiseru remaining in the Thief of the Wind Dust‘s mouth when he accepted Shā Wúshēng’s hug. And in his left hand, the elaborate kiseru was still firmly held.
***
1 鐵笛仙: Iron Flute Immortal or Tekkisen in Japanese
2 His death
3 神箭手: God of Archers
4 Sky Hunter or Shu Un Shō in Japanese
5 1li is approx. 2.44 miles/3,927 km
6 神誨魔械: Divinely-Instructed Magical Weapons or Sinkai Makai in Japanese
7 噬劍・列天痕: Shìjiàn – Liètiānhén
8 護印師: Seal Guardian or Goinshi in Japanese
9 丹: Vermillion or Tan in Japanese
10 I don’t really know what this sentence is referring to.
Setsuna's Translation 