60: Chapter 60 Tang Clan of Sichuan

The castle in the valley was even larger than it appeared from a distance.

The high walls, built from green stone, stood thirty feet tall, covered in arrow slits and watchtowers. Outside the walls lay a deep man-made trench, its bottom filled with sharp wooden stakes. The only passage was a drawbridge, currently suspended high in the air, with two men in tight-fitting martial attire standing at its head.

Lu Mingyuan walked to the bridge, cupped his hands, and said, "Lu Mingyuan of Zhongnan Mountain, seeking an audience with the Sect Leader of the Tang Clan."

The two men exchanged a glance, and one of them asked, "Do you have an invitation?"

Lu Mingyuan shook his head.

The man said, "The Tang Clan does not receive guests without invitations. Please leave."

His tone was blunt, leaving no room for negotiation.

Lu Mingyuan did not move.

He simply stood there, gazing at the drawbridge, the tightly closed gate, and those grim arrow slits upon the wall.

He remembered standing outside the mountain gate of Shaolin that day in the same manner. He had stood for three days, waiting for someone who never asked.

Would someone come here?

He did not know.

But he knew that standing was the only thing he could do.

The sun moved from the east to the zenith, and then from the zenith to the west.

Lu Mingyuan stood motionless.

As the sun set, there was suddenly movement on the drawbridge.

An elderly man walked out slowly.

He walked very slowly, each step extremely steady. He wore a grey cloth robe that was washed until it paled, yet it was impeccably clean. His face was lean, his beard and eyebrows were white, but his eyes were exceptionally sharp, looking at people like two knives.

He reached the bridgehead and looked at Lu Mingyuan across the trench.

"Young man, you've been standing for a day. Aren't you tired?"

Lu Mingyuan cupped his hands. "I am not."

The old man smiled slightly.

"Saying you're not tired is a lie. But being able to stand for a day makes you better than those who leave after a single hour."

He turned and walked back inside the gate, saying without looking back:

"Follow me."

The drawbridge slowly lowered.

Lu Mingyuan stepped onto the bridge and entered that mysterious castle.

Inside the gate was a different world entirely.

Streets paved with green stone crisscrossed, lined with various shops—blacksmiths, carpenters, pharmacies, clothiers—everything one could need. People came and went on the streets, some with sabers on their backs, some with swords at their waists, some carrying baskets, and some with shoulder poles. Some cast curious glances at him, but most ignored him, focused on their own paths.

The old man spoke as he walked, "The Tang Clan is not just a fort; it is a city. Thirty thousand people live inside; ninety percent are surnamed Tang, and ten percent are of other surnames. They do all sorts of work, but everything is related to hidden weapons."

He pointed to a blacksmith shop by the street.

"The blacksmiths forge the iron for hidden weapons. The carpenter shop over there makes the handles for hidden weapons. The pharmacy prepares the poisons used on hidden weapons. The cloth shop dyes the fabric for night-traveling clothes."

Lu Mingyuan watched and listened as they went.

He suddenly realized that everything in this city revolved around one thing—

Hidden weapons.

The old man led him to a residence.

The residence was not large but was very exquisite. A plaque hung over the lintel with three characters written on it: 'Hall of Ingenuity'. The calligraphy was ancient and vigorous, possessing the strength of carved stone.

"This is where I live," the old man said. "I am Tang Ji, an Elder of the Tang Clan's Hall of Ingenuity."

Lu Mingyuan cupped his hands. "Junior Lu Mingyuan greets Elder Tang."

Tang Ji waved his hand.

"No need for formalities. Standing for a day makes you qualified to enter. As for whether you can learn anything, that depends on your own fortune."

He pushed the door open and entered.

The courtyard was extremely quiet. There were several clusters of bamboo and a stone table, upon which sat various strangely shaped objects. Some were round, some square, some had wings, some had long legs, some looked like birds, and some like insects.

Lu Mingyuan stepped closer for a better look and realized they were all hidden weapons.

But they were different from the hidden weapons he had imagined. These were not throwing knives or darts, but various exquisite mechanisms—with springs, gears, connecting rods, and catches. Every single one was minutely small and incredibly intricate.

Tang Ji picked up a round one and handed it to him.

"This is the 'Flying Locust'. Look."

He pressed it lightly, and the sphere suddenly sprang open, transforming into twelve thin blades that spun and danced through the air. They circled once before returning to his hand, closing back into a sphere.

Lu Mingyuan was stunned.

Tang Ji smiled.

"This is the hidden weapon of the Tang Clan. It relies not on strength, but on ingenuity. Strength has its limits, but ingenuity is infinite."

That night, Lu Mingyuan stayed at the Hall of Ingenuity.

Tang Ji did not lecture him on any principles; he simply spent the evening showing him hidden weapons.

Large and small, strange and peculiar, every piece had a name and a story.

That piece was called 'Bee's Tail'; it was as fine as a cow's hair and could be shot into a human body without them noticing, only for them to die of poison three days later.

That piece was called 'Butterfly Wing'; it was as thin as a cicada's wing and could drift with the wind, suddenly accelerating when it reached the enemy to slice through their throat.

That piece was called 'Spider Web'; it wasn't a single weapon, but a set. First, one silk thread is shot to stick to the enemy; then another, and another. By the seventh thread, they suddenly tighten, binding the enemy until they cannot move.

That piece was called 'Cicada Slough'; it was for life-saving. When encountering a powerful enemy, throwing it would cause a cloud of smoke to explode, within which a decoy would appear, looking exactly like the real person. While the enemy chased the decoy, the real person would have already escaped.

Every single piece filled him with wonder.

He was not marveling at their lethality, but at the 'ingenuity' behind them.

It was a profound understanding of rules—the rules of flight, of rotation, of adhesion, of tension. Only by understanding the rules can one utilize them to create these inconceivable things.

He suddenly remembered the words of the Sect Leader.

"Borrowing Momentum."

Borrowing the momentum of heaven and earth was the way of the Daoists.

Utilizing rules was the ingenuity of the Tang Clan.

They seemed different, but the underlying principle was the same—

Neither relied on brute force; both relied on an understanding of the world.

The next morning, Tang Ji took him to a workshop.

In the workshop, several young people were working. Some were polishing iron plates, some were assembling parts, and some were testing mechanisms. Everyone was intensely focused, as if the object in their hands was the entire world.

Tang Ji walked up behind a youth and watched him assemble a hidden weapon.

The youth's hands were very skillful; two copper wires as thin as hair wove through his fingers, forming an exquisite net in just a few moves. He then took several iron plates as thin as cicada wings and clicked them into the net's mesh one by one. Finally, he installed a tiny spring; with a light press, the net suddenly sprang open into the shape of a flower, its petals as sharp as knives.

The youth looked up, saw Tang Ji, and quickly stood up.

Tang Ji waved his hand, signaling him to continue. Then he turned to Lu Mingyuan.

"How long do you think it took him to make this hidden weapon?"

Lu Mingyuan thought for a moment.

"The time it takes for an incense stick to burn?"

Tang Ji laughed.

"Three months."

Lu Mingyuan was startled.

Tang Ji said, "This hidden weapon is called the 'Iron-Wire Flower'. He started making it three months ago, and only today did he finish this one piece. Three months, just for this one piece."

He paused.

"Guess how much this hidden weapon can be sold for?"

Lu Mingyuan shook his head.

"Three hundred taels of silver," Tang Ji said. "Enough to feed his whole family for a year."

He looked at Lu Mingyuan.

"But do you know how many times he failed during these three months?"

Lu Mingyuan remained silent.

"One hundred and thirty-seven times," Tang Ji said. "Every failure meant starting over from the beginning. Three months, one hundred and thirty-seven failures, to complete this one piece."

He pointed at the youth.

"He is seventeen this year. He started learning to make hidden weapons at the age of eight and has been doing it for nine years. In those nine years, how many hidden weapons has he completed? Fewer than a hundred. But every single one is a masterpiece."

Lu Mingyuan looked at the youth, at his focused eyes, and at his hands covered in calluses and scars.

Nine years, a hundred hidden weapons, and one hundred and thirty-seven failures to succeed once.

This was the 'ingenuity' of the Tang Clan.

It wasn't innate ingenuity; it was ingenuity forged through practice.

It was countless failures, countless repetitions, and countless polishings that earned that tiny bit of 'ingenuity'.

Coming out of the workshop, Tang Ji led him to a tall tower.

The tower had seven floors, each with a plaque. The first floor read 'Entry', the second 'First Glimpse', the third 'Entering the Hall', the fourth 'Entering the Chamber', the fifth 'Subtle Essence', the sixth 'Profound Mystery', and the seventh 'Transcendent'.

Tang Ji said, "This is the Tang Clan's Weapon Storage Tower. Each floor contains hidden weapons of different grades. Those on the first floor can be made by apprentices; those on the seventh floor, no more than three people in the entire Tang Clan can make."

He looked at Lu Mingyuan.

"Do you want to go in and see?"

Lu Mingyuan nodded.

Tang Ji said, "You may enter, but there is one rule—only look, do not ask. After you finish looking, you are not allowed to ask either."

Lu Mingyuan was taken aback.

Tang Ji smiled.

"This is an old rule of the Tang Clan. Those who can understand will naturally do so; for those who cannot, asking is useless."

He pushed open the tower door.

Lu Mingyuan looked floor by floor.

The first floor contained various basic hidden weapons. Flying knives, darts, needles, and spikes; their forms were simple and their functions direct. He could see the principles at a glance and could even imagine the methods of production.

On the second floor, variations began. Flying knives were no longer simple; some had barbs, some had blood grooves, some were detachable, and some were composite. He began to need to think for a moment to understand the mechanics within.

The third floor was even more complex. He saw a hidden weapon like a butterfly; when thrown, it moved left and right unpredictably, making its trajectory impossible to anticipate. He watched for a long time before vaguely seeing that the butterfly's two wings were asymmetrical, one heavy and one light, which caused it to wobble in flight.

By the fourth floor, he was already struggling. One hidden weapon looked like just a single needle, but after being shot, it would suddenly split into seven, each with a different trajectory. He could not fathom how it was done.

On the fifth floor, he was completely lost. Those hidden weapons—some seemed like living creatures, some like phantoms, and some he couldn't even tell what they were. He could only watch, his mind filled with a sense of blankness.

On the sixth floor, he couldn't even see them clearly. Those hidden weapons seemed to move, change, and vanish. Standing there, he felt as if those objects were mocking his ignorance.

He did not go up to the seventh floor.

It wasn't that he wasn't allowed, but that he didn't dare.

He knew that with his current Realm, he wouldn't understand even if he went up. Looking would be in vain.

He turned and descended the tower.

Tang Ji was waiting for him outside.

"Finished looking?"

Lu Mingyuan nodded.

Tang Ji asked, "How much did you understand?"

Lu Mingyuan thought for a moment.

"The first floor, completely. The second floor, most of it. The third floor, a little. The fourth floor, almost nothing. From the fifth floor up, nothing at all."

Tang Ji laughed.

"That's not bad. Most people can't even understand the first floor."

He looked at Lu Mingyuan.

"Do you know why I told you to only look and not ask?"

Lu Mingyuan shook his head.

Tang Ji said, "Because the act of 'asking' is itself an obstacle. Once you ask, it shows you are using your brain to think. But hidden weapons are not thought out; they are made. No matter how much you think, it's not as good as making it once with your own hands."

He pointed to the tower.

"Those hidden weapons, every single one was made. The person who made them might not understand any profound principles; they just made them. By making, they eventually succeeded. If you ask them how they did it, they can't say. But if you ask them to make another one, they can."

He looked at Lu Mingyuan.

"This is the 'ingenuity' of the Tang Clan—it's in the hands, not on the tongue."

That night, Lu Mingyuan sat alone in his room.

He was reflecting on everything he had seen today.

Those hidden weapons, those mechanisms, those designs so exquisite they defied belief.

What was the principle behind them?

It was 'ingenuity'.

But what is ingenuity?

Ingenuity is the utilization of rules. The rules of throwing knives, the rules of mechanisms, the rules of poisons, the rules of smoke. Only by understanding the rules can one utilize them to create things that exceed common sense.

Just like the Daoist 'Momentum', the Confucian 'Measure', and the Buddhist 'Emptiness'.

They were all understandings of the world.

With understanding, one can borrow momentum, act with measure, and realize emptiness.

But the 'ingenuity' of the Tang Clan went one step further—

It was not just understanding, but 'use'.

Turning understanding into objects, into hidden weapons, into things that can kill.

This is 'the tool'.

Tools can change, but the Dao does not.

Yet within the tool, the Dao is also hidden.

He suddenly remembered what the Pavilion Keeper had said on Wudang Mountain that day:

"The sword is a tool, and the Dao is the Dao. But for a true master, the sword is the Dao."

Now he understood.

Tools and the Dao are not two separate things.

The Dao is hidden within the tool. The Dao must rely on the tool to be revealed.

Just like the Dragon Subduing Palm; it is a tool, but within the palm, there is momentum.

Just like the hidden weapon; it is a tool, but within the tool, there is ingenuity.

Tools can change, but the Dao does not.

But unchanging principles must rely on changing tools to be passed down.

He closed his eyes and began to perform the three forms of the Dragon Subduing Palm.

Starting, pushing out, pulling back.

As he performed them, he thought of the hidden weapons he had seen today. Those gears, those springs, those connecting rods, those catches. They were each independent, yet they coordinated with each other to form a whole.

Just like this Dragon Subduing Palm; starting, pushing out, and pulling back—the three forms were independent, yet they were one.

He suddenly had a thought.

Tomorrow, he would learn to make a hidden weapon.

Using his hands, using his heart, and using the path he had walked for over three years.

To make something that belonged to him.