"I am Yang Tiansheng of the Bright Cult."
In the fine rain, Guilin's mountains and waters resembled an ink painting, pale in the distance and rich up close, sky and water blending into one.
Clad in a loose, fiery-red robe, Yang Tiansheng stood on a slender bamboo raft on the Li River. With a faint smile, he cupped his hands toward Li Qing in the distance. Eight swords hovered behind him, fiery-red sword qi crisscrossing like flames lighting up the great river. "Daoist Li, please do not hold back your instruction."
On the pebble-strewn riverbank, the unkempt Li Qing wore a stained white hemp robe. Despite his shabby appearance, he exuded an indescribable serenity. He removed his bamboo hat and studied the eight flickering swords from afar, making no attempt to hide his surprise, then shook his head regretfully. "You came a little too early."
The remark came without explanation, but Yang Tiansheng understood. The smile at his lips gradually acquired a sharper edge. "I know. But if I did not come, Daoist Li's journey to challenge the swordsmen of the south might fall short of its name."
Li Qing considered this seriously, then smiled and raised his sword in a distant salute. "Thank you for obliging me, Hall Master Yang."
Yang Tiansheng extended a hand. "Please."
Li Qing said, "After you, Hall Master Yang."
Yang Tiansheng said, "My sword techniques are swift and fierce. Take care, Daoist Li."
Li Qing said, "Let us be sure to stop short of injury. Whoever wins or loses, we must not damage our friendship."
Yang Tiansheng smiled. "Of course!"
As his words fell, without any visible preparatory movement, the eight swords behind him became eight streaks of rainbow light, skimming the river toward Li Qing.
Li Qing drew his sword. His plain, unadorned