Chapter 20 — Drawing Lots

Cangyan Daoren was the quickest to recover. He slipped quietly to Dao Yan's side and said in a low voice, "Headmaster, it is not well to let the disciples linger here."

Dao Yan came to himself, glanced at Cangsong, nodded, and said, "Take the disciples up first. I will go see what is the matter with the Spirit Lord." With that he folded his body and flew toward the Water Qilin.

Cangsong turned back and called out clearly, "Just now the Spirit Lord was merely playing a joke on us all; there is no need for alarm. Now, all disciples entered in the martial tournament, proceed in order to the Yuheng Hall."

The disciples answered in unison, order restored, and went up. In their hearts, though, after witnessing that earth-shaking blow from the Water Qilin, few if any would believe it had been a joke.

Following behind the others, Zhang Qingyue and Lin Jinghong entered the magnificent, spacious Yuheng Hall. Standing within that hall, Zhang Qingyue suddenly felt the memories of five years turning over one after another.

"Jingyu," Zhang Qingyue said suddenly in a low voice.

"What?" Lin Jinghong looked at him.

Zhang Qingyue lowered his voice: "Something has just occurred to me. In all these years, have you seen Uncle Wang Er?"

Lin Jinghong's face fell at once. He shook his head. "No. Today is the first time I have been back to Jietian Peak. Three years ago I asked Senior Brother Qi Hao how Uncle Wang Er was. He said the old man was still the same—mad as ever, running about Jietian Peak all day—but the senior brothers of the eldest branch look after him, so he should be all right."

Zhang Qingyue was silent a moment, then said, "When this tournament is over, I want to go see him. Will you come?"

Lin Jinghong nodded. "Yes. I would like to see him too."

Just then a green shadow flashed at the head of the hall—Dao Yan Zhenren had come in from outside. The eyes of every Canglan elder fell on him. Cangyan Daoren stepped forward and asked, "Headmaster, the Spirit Lord…"

Dao Yan raised a hand to stop him and shot him a look. Cangyan understood at once and said no more. Then Dao Yan turned as though nothing had happened, and spoke amiably to the several dozen young Canglan disciples standing in the hall: "So you are all here. Good, good."

The disciples bowed as one and said, "We pay our respects to the Headmaster."

Dao Yan smiled faintly and returned to his seat, casting a glance at Cangyan Daoren, who at once stepped forward and said in a clear voice: "Fellow disciples, you are the finest of the Canglan Sect's younger generation. From the founding of our Qingyun branch to this day is more than two thousand years—the orthodox line of the Daoist faith, the leaders of the righteous path. But the ancients said: undertakings prosper through diligence and perish through frivolity. And again: a boat against the current that does not advance falls back. Our patriarchs of every generation, to warn those who came after and to raise up the young, handed down this grand occasion, the Seven Peaks Martial Tournament—and this year makes fully the twentieth."

"Ah—" A murmur of astonishment ran through the Canglan disciples. Twenty tournaments, at one every sixty years, meant twelve hundred years.

Cangyan Daoren surveyed their reaction with satisfaction and continued: "To this day, under the leadership of Headmaster Dao Yan, our Canglan Sect flourishes and prospers, far surpassing former ages, and among the young generation there are countless outstanding talents. Therefore the Headmaster, after consulting with the peak lords, has specially increased the number of contestants in this grand tournament to sixty-four, lest any pearl be lost to the sea."

At this, Zhang Qingyue could not help glancing at Tian Buhui, who sat below Dao Yan Zhenren, face impassive but eyes full of impatience. After all, this matter of increasing the number of contestants—it was said to have been discussed with the peak lords, but in truth it was Dao Yan Zhenren and Cangsong Zhenren who had decided.

Cangyan Daoren went on: "This tournament has twice the number of contestants as before, so the drawing of lots has changed somewhat as well. Look here—" He pointed to the open space on the right side of the hall. They looked: a large red-wood chest stood there, squarely built, with only a small opening on top just large enough to admit an arm.

"In that red-wood chest are sixty-three wax balls, each wrapped around a slip of paper bearing a number from one to sixty-three,"—a sudden clamor rose among the disciples; Cangyan ignored it—"and when the drawing is done, the matches shall be decided by those numbers: number one against sixty-four, two against sixty-three, three against sixty-two, and so on. In the second round, the winner of one and sixty-four shall face the winner of two and sixty-three, and so on, down to the final contest. Is that clear to all?"

The Canglan disciples below fell silent a moment, then someone called out loudly, "Uncle Cangsong, if there are sixty-four of us, why are there only sixty-three wax balls?"

Cangyan Daoren seemed prepared for this. He cleared his throat and said, "The rule for this tournament was that each of the seven Canglan peaks should send nine contestants, with the eldest branch sending one more. But—ahem—because one peak has sent only eight disciples in all, we are short by one, and so there are only sixty-three."

For a moment every eye turned to the face of Tian Buhui, lord of Dazhu Peak. A flash of anger crossed Tian Buhui's face, but he sat upright in his seat without stirring in the least. Below, the Canglan disciples broke into a hubbub of talk.

When the noise had somewhat subsided, Cangsong Zhenren said gravely, "But this is no great difficulty. Among those sixty-three wax balls, whichever disciple draws number one is most fortunate indeed, for there is no number sixty-four to oppose him, and so he receives a bye."

At these words there was another stir among the Canglan disciples. But the Canglan Sect was, after all, a great and renowned house with strict discipline; comical as the method seemed, no one raised objection.

Dao Yan Zhenren rose and looked about. At the stature of a headmaster, silence fell at once. Dao Yan nodded and said, "Since that is so, let everyone go draw."

In the hall, every eye turned to the red-wood chest. First the eldest branch sent out nine disciples, who came in order to the chest and each drew a wax ball; then came the disciples of Long Peak.

Lin Jinghong signaled to Zhang Qingyue and went out as well. Zhang Qingyue watched his back for a moment, then turned his gaze to the seven peak lords and the elders seated above. Of these, from Dao Yan Zhenren down—Cangyan Daoren, Tianyun Daoren, and the peak lords Shang Zhenglang, Zeng Shuchang and the rest—he had seen them all five years before. Only a Daoist nun seated in the last chair on the right he had never met; but by the look of it, she must be the renowned Abbess Shuijing of Xiaozhu Peak.

Zhang Qingyue had often heard his senior brothers speak of this martial aunt. Xiaozhu Peak, they said, was the only branch of the Canglan Sect that took only female disciples, and Abbess Shuijing herself was of profound attainment, greatly famed within the sect. And the disciples of Xiaozhu Peak had from time to time distinguished themselves in past Seven Peaks tournaments.