The Chronicles of Qi

by J E Kerry

  Azarov still seems unconvinced while Commander Wu looks nervously on his bracelet; he is clearly under pressure.

  “So, what is the Council’s final decision?” he asks.

  Everyone throws a hopeful look at Counselor Tsung, who seems very decided.

  “Opportunities multiply as they are seized,” he replies, looking as serene and wise as only he could pull off. “Let them proceed and investigate further.”

  ∞∞∞

  The meeting transmission ends, and Tsung is revealed in a white, dome-shaped room. He steps off the Avatar platform and strides to the wall, where he moves his hand over an inbuilt sensor-panel. The surface transforms into a stunning outdoor view on the lush New Asia Plateau.

  The white-haired man takes a deep and concerned breath, stroking his beard, as his mysterious hazel-eyes catch a blue-shimmering butterfly on its way to the mountains.

  The beautiful creature glides high above the AN-CDC and dives into an enchanted valley of turquoise lakes, generous waterfalls and fairy woodlands, all back-lit by snowy mountain ranges. It crosses the mountains and floats through some heavy mists, before reaching an enormous waterfall that pours down over a giant stone Buddha carved into the rocky cliff-face.

  The butterfly’s journey leads closer to the gates of Mount Hua (华山), the world’s deadliest and most sacred Taoist mountain range, as it spots a Chinese Taoist monk clinging to a cliff and heads straight for him.

  According to Chinese legends, Xiwangmu (西王母), the Queen Mother of the West, was holding her Flat Peach Carnival when she accidentally spilled some of her precious jade wine down from the higher realm Shambhala, causing a gigantic flood on Earth and destroying all villages in the area of Mount Hua. That led the mythical Chinese deity Shaohao (少昊), former emperor and son of the legendary Huang Di (Yellow Emperor), to inform the Jade Emperor (Tai Di, the first god) about the disaster, who immediately sent the deity Juling (巨靈) to Earth, with the order to stem the flood. As Juling descended from the clouds, he rested his left hand on one side of the peak and the right leg on the other, ripping the mountain into two halves and allowing the flood to rush out. Since then, his handprint can be found on the Immortal’s Palm Peak, which still decorates the top of Mount Hua, even after the terraformation took place.

  On the day the sun stood still, Mount Hua and many other Chinese mountain ranges were struck by tremendous earthquakes. The mountain lost two of its five fingers (peaks), the North and West one. Seemingly a miracle, the South Peak, the highest of all, remained intact.

  The Central Peak, also known as Jade Maiden Peak, only suffered some cracks on the ground. Its ancient Jade Maiden Taoist Temple on the top of the peak and the Rootless and the Sacrificing Tree, were lucky to remain unharmed as well.

  Legends tell that Huai Ying (懷嬴), the daughter of Duke Mu of Qin (569-621 BC), loved a man who was extremely talented in playing the tung-hsiao (vertical bamboo flute). In order to avoid this carnal desire and to cultivate her spirituality, Huai Ying decided to give up the golden spoon she was born with and became a hermit, isolating herself from the rest of the world on the Central Peak of Mount Hua.

  The East Peak, namely Facing Sun Peak, was slightly rattled and has always been the best place to relax and watch the sunrise. It is also home to the Immortal’s Palm Peak from the story of Xiwangmu and Juling. This Immortal’s Palm Peak once belonged to the Eight Scenic Wonders of the former Guangzhong area.

  The Chinese Taoist monk is revealed as Master Wang Long Sheng, usually called Wang, 30, courageous and endearing; a handsome and very athletic young man, draped in the robe of his monastery.

  The cliff-face of the South Peak offers nothing but uneven worn wooden planks and chains to keep Wang from plummeting 7,000 feet down the mountain.

  It is also called the Landing Wild Geese Peak, thx to the legends of geese returning from the south and often landing on this peak. The beautiful Black Dragon Pool and the Baidi Temple (Jintian Palace), a sacred Taoist Temple that has always been considered the host temple of the deity Shaohao, grace the somewhat mystic scenery.

  The shimmering blue butterfly lands on Wang’s shoulder as he reaches the viewing platform and it stays with him until he sets his bag down and unwraps the black fabric from his tattooed wrist, revealing an embossed Dragon.

  He makes a blindfold from the fabric and begins his daily ‘Tai Ji Huolong Palm Routine’ with ease and grace.

  ‘Huo Long’ (火龙) means Fire Dragon. This very specific Tai Ji Chuan style belongs to the Chinese ‘Bagua Zhang’ (八卦掌), the Eight-Trigram School, referring to the trigrams of the traditional Chinese I-Ching (易經), the ‘Book of Changes’, being one of the canons of Taoism.

  Understanding the Eight-Trigrams means to see the universe and cosmos as a map into the right direction.

  Or as Stephan Feuchtwang, emeritus professor of anthropology, once said:

  “To be in the right place, facing the right direction, doing the right thing at the right time, is a cross between being practically efficient and ritually correct. It is being in tune with the universe.”

  The compass school, also called Feng Shui or Chinese geomancy, including ancient Chinese numerology and astrology, promotes since thousands of years the importance of time and space, based on the teachings of the Eight Trigrams.

  With ‘Space’, the Taoist scholars usually mean the eight directions: north, north-east, east, south-east, south, south-west, west and north-west. These eight directions are represented by a nine-palace diagram (洛书), the Lo Shu, which is also the famous 3-order magic square in modern mathematics, namely the golden rectangle or golden cut.

  The difference, however, between the western compass and the ancient Chinese compass is the direction of North and South. In the ancient Chinese geomancy, the North belongs to the bottom and the South to the top, the reason being that the sun belongs to the southern part of the sky.

  Based on the I-Ching, the earlier mentioned Book of Changes, the primordial universe in its origin existed of the void, called Wu Ji (无极). From the Wu Ji, the ‘Source’, the Tai Ji (太極), the beginning of the world was created, giving rise to the two opposing forces of Yin (negative) and Yang (positive). From Yin and Yang, the four patterns emerged, creating the Eight Trigrams which on their own were able to continue building a multiverse.

  This multiverse was based on these pre-modeled patterns for all creatures and creations in the Former Heaven, according to which the ten thousand beings were generated. All things on Earth are therefore only copies of these ideal models (macrocosm/microcosm).

  As for the Tai Ji symbol, Taoists use the white color to represent Yang (male, day) and black for Yin (female, night), both occupying the same area. But within each of them the opposite is still present as well, implying that everything in existence, everything in the universe, follows a loop. Therefore, there is always a limit within each of the two elements because Yin is the limit within Yang, and Yang within Yin, just as one always finds the good within the bad and vice versa.

  That’s why in Chinese culture it is believed that too much perfection will lead to imperfection. There always needs to be a balance between the two poles in order to improve and develop.

  無極生有極、有極是太極、太極生兩儀、即陰陽;

  兩儀生四象: 即少陰、太陰、少陽、太陽、

  四象演八卦、八八六十四卦。

  The Limitless (無極; wuji) produces the delimited (有極; youji), and this demarcation is equivalent to the Absolute (太極; taiji).

  The Taiji (the two opposing forces in embryonic form) produces two forms, named yin-yang (陰陽) which are called Liangyi (the manifested opposing forces).

  These two forms produce four phenomena: named lesser yin (少陰, shaoyin), greater yin (太陰; taiyin, which also refers to the Moon), lesser yang (陽, shaoyang), and greater yang (太陽; taiyang, which also refers to the Sun).

  The four phenomena (四象; Sìxiàng) act on the eight trigra
ms (八卦; Bagua).

  Eight 'eights' results in sixty-four hexagrams.

  After Wang’s Tai Ji morning practice, he collects his belongings and heads for the impressive ancient Chinese monastery of Mount Hua that decorates the top of the mountain. Built into and onto the peak, a mile plus long stairway traces its steps nearly to the main doors of the building in an orderly fashion and with clearly defined borders that break off into healthy green scapes of grass and even a few growing trees. The open courtyard is easy to spot but easier still are the roofs of the monastery and its unique Far Eastern architecture.

  An old Taoist monk sweeps the ground in front of the gate when a group of 12 young Taoist martial arts students enters the monastery and walks to the courtyard.

  One of them starts fiddling with a bowl, eager to dig into his morning meal and satiate his soul. The boys call him to join them in the hall. But he merely ignores them and rushes to the kitchen to try and woo something into his bowl.

  Some others sit down, legs joined together, thighs spread apart, hands and eyes closed shut in meditation; taking in several deep breaths and meditating on their Qi for the day’s tenuous activities.

  A group of three look for some of the old history books and start perusing ancient myths, legends and practices. They are fully immersed in its pages and all the promised wonders that lay within.

  Of course, you can’t miss the ones who love to be rough and begin to spar around the hall. Laughing and taking liberties with the absence of their master.

  Four of the students start stretching, three practice kicks and five use the wooden Wing Chun dummy, rings and dragon poles for exercise, one of whom is Xiao Li, 10.

  Xiao Li notices another student, Deng Jie, 8, who stands one head shorter than him with his monkey-like protruding ears, practicing several moves with his two butterfly swords perfectly. Xiao Li watches Deng Jie perform several complicated combinations of techniques before he teases him, overcome with jealousy.

  “Hey, big horse face!” Deng Jie shouts. “I bet you won’t last one second against me!”

  “Ooooh,” the students intone in response to the dissing.

  Xiao Li is unnerved by Deng Jie’s confidence, but he steels himself and puts his face close to Jie’s.

  “You want to take me on, you monkey-weasel?” he says dangerously.

  “Hey both of you knock it off,” one of the students tries to put a stop to the clearly incoming fight. He makes several frightened stares at the hall’s entrance, expecting his master to barge in anytime soon.

  The two boys however don’t stop pressing their heads against each other.

  “You heard him, back down like the little chicken you are,” Xiao Li growls.

  “After you, stinky rat,” Deng Jie shrills.

  “Hahaaaa,” comes the response from the other students.

  The gauntlet is thrown and neither boys are willing to back down. So, they shake their fists, signifying they’re battle ready.

  The students laugh and cheer, happy to have someone or something to disrupt the monotonous routine of their day. They quickly circle around Deng Jie and Xiao Li who are getting into their respective battle stances as they prepare to fight. However, their attempt to attack one another is instantly halted by the entrance of their Master, Wang Long Sheng. He brings the boys down to the ground and with one swift hand movement to their backs.

  The other students are transfixed, watching their Master speechlessly.

  Wang throws a quick scan around the area and spots the chubby Xiao Pang, 9, having his breakfast on a tree trunk nearby. Getting even more annoyed, he grabs a Wushu spear from the rack and throws it right into his direction.

  Xiao Pang notices something from the corner of his eye and ducks, dropping his breakfast. Crossing to his chubby student with speed that is enough to make the boy’s head spin, Wang picks up the chopsticks and clips them to his ear, pulling him to his feet.

  “Get up!” Wang shouts.

  “Ayo!” Xiao Pang screams. “That hurts! Master, please!” he shrieks like a baby and Wang releases his ear.

  “So, you wake up in the morning and the first thing you think of is munching on a heavy meal. Is that so, Xiao Pang?” he growls.

  Pang shakes his head vigorously. Clearly at his wits end. His master ignores the boy’s scared pleas.

  “What are you waiting for?” Wang asks as he is getting into a horse stance and gesturing to the Wushu Spear on the ground. “Attack!”

  Xiao Pang is surprised by his master’s reaction. He had been expecting a different kind of punishment for his misdemeanor. He never dreams of ever sparring with his master and swallows the last piece of food hidden in his cheek, taking a deep breath. He then picks up the spear before making a quick amateur poke at Wang’s stomach and freezes right afterward, staring at his master as the very beginning of a mortified smile starts forming on his face; Wang doesn’t look amused.

  “Xiao Pang!” Wang shouts again. “Are you a man or a mouse?! Do it again!”

  “But Master, I can’t touch you. You are much faster and stronger.” Pang tries to plead.

  “All I hear from you are excuses. Your opponent’s advantage over you can be used as a weapon against him. Now do it again!” Wang commands.

  “Yes Master,” Xiao Pang says embarrassed with his flushing cheeks, any trace of amusement quickly leaving his face.

  The poor chubby boy revises his stance and tries to muster more confidence. He takes another deep breath and attacks his master. The attack is slow and entirely predictable, wherefore Wang immediately shifts the horse stance to the right, covering with his chopsticks, and catches the advancing cue between the chopsticks to shift his right foot forward while simultaneously slapping the right chopstick into Xiao Pang’s face. The student wails like a baby and Wang repeats the action with his left chopstick.

  The defeated boy drops the Wushu spear and clutches his reddish cheeks, just as the other students break out in roaring laughter.

  “Quiet!” Wang snaps. “Xiao Pang! Clean up your mess! No lunch, no dinner!”

  “Yes Master,” Xiao Pang mumbles to himself.

  “Into your rows!” Wang shouts to the class.

  “As for the two warriors who think it’s good to fight their brothers, I will have a special lesson ready for you,” he adds.

  Deng Jie and Xiao Li shake a bit from the ominous warning as does the rest of the class.

  Xiao Pang collects up his belongings and cleans the food off the ground as the rest of the class moves to the training ground hidden in the center of the monastery.

  The open training ground is nestled between the surrounding buildings to create an easy access point for congregation. Training equipment is present here, with standing wood dummies to six-armed stick figures for improved reflex and speed training. Some other training weapons, such as staves, nunchaku, and Wushu swords, are arranged on their racks in an organized fashion.

  The stone-floor of the training area hasn’t been repaired for centuries. Its deformed surface is marred by the footmarks of former monks and visible cracks, wear and damage from years of enduring the unforgiving whims of nature.

  “Sit!” Wang walks along the first row of students and shouts once more, commencing with his lecture, as the students move into their horse stances.

  “Despite your foolish behavior, you have all learned something for life today.”

  The children’s eyes widen as he goes over to a basket filled with Chinese teacups.

  “Oh no, not the teacups,” Li Hai Jun, 9, short and hairy, moans.

  “Shhh, he’ll hear us,” whispers Deng Jie.

  “The unexpected beats the expected,” Wang resumes and takes the basket, weaving through the rows, placing teacups on the thighs of each student. With each placement, they immediately grimace knowing fully well what they are in for.

  “Over 2000 years ago, in the ‘Art of War’, Sunzi explained, that to defend, one uses typical strategy. But to win, one employs atypical
strategy.”

  Sweat beads on the students’ foreheads as they try their best to balance the teacups while their master goes on with his lecture. They do their best to concentrate on the lecture, ignoring the pain that is slowly building up in their thighs.

  Wang continues unperturbed.

  “It is the unexpected which outmaneuvers your enemy and triumphs in battle. You must learn to be subtle, even to the point of formlessness. Be mysterious, even to the point of soundlessness. That’s how you can be the director of your opponent’s fate.”

  Deng Jie glances at Xiao Li, his face accusatory, blaming him for the predicament they are in. Xiao Li returns the favor as the beads of sweat on the brows grow in number.

  Wang walks over to a copper-made long-mouthed kettle, picks it up, and dexterously performs a traditional Sichuanese ‘Long Spout Kettle Tea Ceremony’ (长嘴壶茶艺) throughout each row by pouring hot water within a 1-meter distance elegantly over his shoulder into the cups.

  The students watch, enraptured and are momentarily forgetting their pain. One of them, Liu Wei, 10, strong and adventurous is admittedly in awe.

  They have seen this several times, and they are always and still, taken by the sight. All of them know the story behind the great tea ceremony but never tire of hearing it.

  This ceremony is a kind of Kung Fu Tea performance, originating in Sichuan Province, South West of former China. A famous story says that during the Three Kingdoms period, the Chinese emperor Ah Dou (阿斗) was afraid someone could attack him while serving tea. Hence his strategist, Zhu Ge Liang (诸葛亮) designed a special pot that had a long-curved spout made of copper, able to carry any beverage, even liquor, but also capable of turning into a weapon to protect the emperor. Until this day, four styles to serve tea and fight with the kettle have survived: the Erh Mei style, the Dragon 18 Style, Fu Rong and the Tai Ji style.

  In Liu Wei’s mind, he imagines being a great warrior or an emperor who everyone else could try to kill with tea. Deng Jie would be his strategist and Xiao Pang his steward who tastes every food brought before him. Each of his monastery brothers going before him to silence any enemy.