Chapter 96 — The Sword Walks Ten Thousand Miles of Rivers and Mountains
The Herdsman of the Wasteland · Page 1 of 4
The Village Head's vital energy spilled outward, slowly taking shape as legs and feet, then arms. He rose gently from the stretcher, beckoned with his hand, and the Chubao Sword in Shen Mu's grasp flew from his fingers into the old man's "hand. "
The old man's gaze was distant and unfocused, as though he had fallen into some far-off memory.
Zheng—
The cry of the sword rang out.
The Chubao Sword floated in the air.
Its movements seemed slow, each stance sharply defined: lifting cut, sweeping cut, cleaving cut, thrust, cloud cut, hanging cut, dotting cut, bursting cut, flicking cut, chopping cut, intercepting cut, brushing cut, flourish cut, propping cut. Every technique was among the most basic in the sword canon—yet what set them apart was that the Village Head combined these simplest of moves, executing them in a strange and singular manner for Shen Mu to witness. The Sword Walks Rivers and Mountains. Under his swordplay, the blade's light cast shadows and silhouettes—towering and majestic as mountains, swift and winding as rivers, rising and falling. The light and shadow of the sword actually assembled before Shen Mu into a vast, billowing chronicle of rivers and mountains—a map of the land! The first stance of the Village Head's sword art was incomparably complex, carrying a grandeur as sweeping as mountain ranges, cloud seas, and long rivers! It was geography rendered through the light and shadow of a blade!
The Village Head's sword formula shifted, and the mountains and rivers shifted with it.
The old man rode his sword and sang, and his song carried both heroic ambition and desolate sorrow. "Strategists in the hall devise their plans; brave generals at the frontier wield their spears! Heaven's timing, earth's advantage, and human harmony. Can the gods be smitten?
"
"He answered: They can! "Today the tower and terrace, the tripods and cauldrons; tomorrow the sword walks rivers and mountains.
The people of the capital all join the Great Wind Song.
Commanding all the gods to come and pay tribute! "①
His sword was slow—to accommodate Shen Mu, to let him see the trajectory of each technique.
Slow as it was, the vastness of the sword art was displayed to the fullest in every pointing gesture! Shen Mu devoted himself to memorizing it.
Though the Village Head's sword art was complex, even the most complex sword art was composed of the most basic moves—thrust, lift, flick, dot, and so on.
Once the basic techniques were mastered, no matter how complex the sword form, it could be learned. By the time the Village Head had demonstrated the stance once through, Shen Mu had already committed it to memory.
He used a numerical mnemonic: thrust was one, sweep was two, cleave was three, and so on. He need only remember the sequence of numbers to memorize the most complex sword art in the shortest possible time. This too was the Village Head's painstaking design.
For the past two or three years, the old man had never taught him any sword art, only made him practice the basic moves—thrust, sweep, lift, cleave, chop—over and over, pushing the power of those foundational techniques to their absolute limit. With an incomparably solid foundation, learning complex sword arts now became simpler, easier. Shen Mu closed his eyes and reviewed the numerical sequence of the Sword Walks Rivers and Mountains stance in his mind, again and again, then converted the numbers back into moves and rehearsed them once more, again and again. After a long while, he finally commanded his flying sword with vital energy, guiding the Chubao Sword through the sword art the Village Head had taught—slowly, clumsily.
His execution was labored, awkward, stiff, and ungainly. Every so often he had to stop and search his memory. But by the second attempt, Shen Mu was already much smoother—only occasionally pausing to think.