Wu Ling wouldn’t say that there was anything ‘wrong’ about the songs that Yao Meifeng and the flute player had selected, they were all well-known songs one would hear at any festival or gathering, but they didn’t truly cater to the audience very well. In school, refined young ladies like Yao Meifeng learned to play the classics, the most common songs that people might request at gatherings, and a very small selection of contemporary pieces. It was up to the individual musician to study other music if they wanted to expand their repertoire.
When Wu Ling had looked around the room, the first thing he noticed was that there didn’t seem to be many elders in the audience. If members of the older generation came here at all, they were likely on the fourth and fifth floors rather than down here with the youths. The second thing he’d noticed was that groups of men outnumbered mixed groups or groups of women nearly five to one, and most of the women who were here resembled Su Xiang, martial cultivators and members of sword sects. Wu Ling, with all of his refined elegance and graceful posture, stuck out like a black cat on a snowy day.
The music the women played wasn’t bad but it wasn’t ideal for the audience. These were hot-blooded young men drinking cheap wine and feasting on giant portions of heavily sauced meat. Some of them had come from missions in the hills and mountains and were celebrating a safe return. Others, like Wu Ling and Su Xiang, were blowing off steam after a day of training. Still, others were preparing to undertake their own adventures and having a sendoff party before facing danger they might not return from. The audience wanted music to stir the blood. ‘Boar in the Flowers’ that Yao Meifeng and the flute player had just finished was playful and energetic to be sure, but it was far too playful and silly for this crowd.
With the attention of the audience gathered on him and the flute player Wu Ling’s fingers flashing across the strings, leaping directly into the rapid notes of ‘The Duel of Jiang and Tian.’ The song was meant to be played as a duet and Wu Ling took up the role of Jiang Quan, a lightning-fast swordsman from the Paragon Sword Sect who had created a legend for his heroism a century ago. The piece demanded that he quickly ascend and descend across the full range of the zither’s strings, producing a flurry of notes to remind the audience of the flashing sword of the mighty hero.
The flute player answered Wu Ling’s challenge, immediately taking up the part of Tian Zhaohui, a famed saber master of the Sovereign Blade Hall. Much like the famous duel, Wu Ling had put the flute player at a disadvantage, forcing her into the pieces longer and more punctuated notes that called to mind the heavy blows of a nine ringed saber.
No sooner had his challenge been answered than Wu Ling responded back, fingers plucking at strings in a blur as he wove his way through the strident piece. Faintly, power began to gather at his fingertips, pale and silvery, flashing like the sun reflecting off a polished blade.
Seeing Wu Ling’s smiling face glancing up at her as the notes of his zither danced around her playing, the flute player surprised him, smiling back in turn. She wouldn’t back down! Red energy gathered along her fingers as she added embellishments to her playing, bringing to mind the jangling sound of the rings along the back of Tain Zhaohui’s mighty saber.
The crowd had slowly gone quiet, eyes gathering toward the stage as they witnessed a duel between two Artists pushing the limits of their bodies and their instruments. That the woman with a flute managed to keep up the demanding pace of the piece without becoming lightheaded was a testament to her immense breathing control but Wu Ling seemed to have endless capacity to increase the speed of his playing, adding more and more embellishments as the initial back and forth between them blended together into a true duet. In the space between the two, Wu Ling’s silvery energy began to clash and spark off the woman’s dull red glow.
“Are they actually fighting?” Su Xiang asked, looking to Yao Meifeng to help her understand. Wu Ling constantly changed the way she thought about Artists and she had no idea if he was using his music to launch actual attacks against the young flute player or not.
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“They aren’t fighting,” Wu Ling’s former classmate answered. “But they are competing. This song is about a duel between two different kinds of warriors,” she explained, unsure if Su Xiang would be aware of the specific details. “Wu Ling is trying to conjure an illusion of Jiang Quan’s famous ‘Silver Star Sword’ but Chen Luli isn’t letting his illusion fully manifest. She’s shattering his illusions with her own illusion of Tian Zhaohui’s nine-ringed saber ‘Red Tide.’ Wu Ling is making several illusions to her single one though. As soon as she begins to manifest a saber, she might destroy his sword but he immediately conjures two more swords to destroy her illusion.”
“That sounds like fighting to me,” Su Xiang said, not sure how this was supposed to be different from a real duel. They were even making swords for it!
“The clash is for entertainment, the illusions are part of the story,” Yao Meifeng said, trying to find a way to articulate the difference. “If they actually defeat the other person, the contest ends and so does the show. They don’t want that to happen so they’re pushing each other but not trying to win outright. Doing so would be against the spirit of the song anyway,” she concluded, eyes fixed on the two musicians to see who would triumph in the end. It wasn’t her first time playing with Chen Luli and she admitted that the older woman was a better musician than she was but watching Wu Ling, she also had to admit that her junior had more than caught up with her in the year since she’d graduated!
“What do you mean going against the spirit of the song?” Su Xiang asked, now fully engrossed in the performance on stage. The illusions conjured by both musicians had now grown strong enough that everyone in the audience could see the clash of a slender silver sword and a dark red nine-ringed saber. The audience held their breath several times when it appeared that one illusion or the other would reach the opposite musician but each time a blade came close, the opposite one appeared to shatter the illusion before both blades reappeared for the next clash.
“The song is called ‘The Duel of Jiang and Tian’ and like the famous duel, it has no proper end. It’s fast and varied so you may not notice but after the first few verses, it just enters a series of repeating movements, each time played slightly faster than the last or shifted in tone. It’s said that Jiang Quan and Tian Zhaohui could never conclude who was truly better between them. Their duel lasted three days and nights as each man tried to simply exhaust his opponent. In the end, they walked away from each other without ever finding a winner. That’s why this song is considered a competition. Wu Ling is trying to exhaust Chen Luli. If she had a zither too it could go on for hours but with a flute…”
On the stage, Chen Luli’s face had become flushed as she struggled to keep up with the increasing pace of the music. The young lord who’d challenged her seemed to have endless reserves and his fingers were devilishly nimble on the strings of his borrowed zither. She almost wished she could win in a clash of energy like a real duel because his illusory manifestations were clearly feeble and unpracticed but the moment she did that, she knew she’d be admitting defeat as an Artist. It would be no different than winning by pulling out a hammer and smashing his zither. Sure, the song would stop but it would be an admission that she couldn’t outplay him. The problem was, she truly couldn’t outplay him!
Seeing that the young woman was on the verge of folding, Wu Ling smiled gently and took a page out of Jiang Quan’s book. With a last flurry of notes, he stood from behind the zither and looked at the young woman with the flute. “Why don’t we leave it there?” Wu Ling said loudly enough for the rest of the room to hear. “I can see that my lady’s lips are becoming parched and as a gentleman, I can’t bear to see you suffer. Join my friends for a cup or two and then we can both return to the stage for another piece.”
At first, Chen Luli wanted to hit him over the head with her flute after he made her work so hard but when she looked at that smiling face she realized he’d never meant to be mean about his challenge. She’d heard his genuine concern for his senior sister and he’d given her a challenge that she could choose to meet or not… and somewhere in the middle of it, she’d started to genuinely enjoy being challenged.
“If my lord is offering a cup, how can I refuse?” she finally said, admitting defeat even if the crowd was clueless. Maybe, just maybe, she’d even stay for the second cup he’d offered.