Zhang Zhen, the "Tiger-Dragon Hermit," strode forward with a hearty laugh, clasped his fists, and bowed deeply to Wu Tong. His voice rang with sincere gratitude."Wu Shaoxia, my thanks for your righteous aid. Had you not acted just now, this battle might have ended in disaster!"
Wu Tong returned the salute, his tone cheerful yet humble."Elder Zhang, your upright spirit and lofty ideals are a model for us all. As for An Lushan's lackeys—wolf-hearted curs who aid a tyrant—they are beneath contempt!"
Hearing this, Zhang Zhen's respect for Wu Tong deepened. He studied the young hero closely: though still in his youth, he possessed an extraordinary bearing, a heart for justice, and martial skill to match his bold spirit. Nodding inwardly, Zhang Zhen declared in a resonant voice:"With such loyalty and courage, Wu Shaoxia, you will surely see our Alliance Against the Traitor succeed—restoring peace and righteousness to the realm!"
By now, both contingents had gathered, and the righteous heroes of the martial world filled the square. The "Two Marvels of the Jianghu," known for their frank and unrestrained tempers, greeted many old friends among the assembled warriors with laughter and bold words.
White-Browed Daoist, standing tall with bright, penetrating eyes, raised his voice:"Qingyangzi! Yun Yizi! Xiaozhenzi! Wu Wei Daoist! You have journeyed to Tengwang Pavilion to join this Alliance Against the Traitor—your loyalty stands as witness to Heaven and Earth, a beacon of the righteous path for all ages to come!"
His words rang like a bronze bell, stirring the hearts of all. Chivalrous pride welled up in the assembly.
A middle-aged Daoist in flowing robes stepped forward, his demeanor calm and steady, his face dignified, eyes deep as the stars—none other than Qingyangzi. With a slight nod, he let his gaze pass over White-Browed Daoist and Master Zhenkong, and spoke with measured respect:"You two have devoted yourselves to cultivation, roaming the four seas, yet you do not turn away from the suffering of the world. You stand forth in danger, rescuing the people from fire and water. Truly, you are as if immortals or Buddhas reborn."
White-Browed Daoist and Master Zhenkong exchanged a smile, but neither boasted. Master Zhenkong merely shook his head, pressed his palms together, and intoned:"The people of this world suffer greatly. Though we cultivate apart from the dust, our hearts are bound to all living beings. This is the true path of cultivation—why speak of immortals or Buddhas?"
Qingyangzi smiled."The words of a sage need no adornment. It is because there are men such as you two that the martial world retains a measure of light and righteousness."
At this, the gathered heroes seemed to stand taller, the air thick with an awe-inspiring moral force that rose straight into the clouds.
On the evening of the seventeenth, the party arrived at Hongzhou in the Jiangnan West Circuit—today's Nanchang. The city lay open and spacious at the confluence of the Gan River and Fu River. The waters surged on, the plains stretched far, and the scenery was enchanting. Long celebrated as "a land blessed with nature's treasures and graced with noble people," Hongzhou was famed for Tengwang Pavilion, which stood proud on the Gan River's western bank. Its towering structure dominated the skyline, offering a commanding view of a thousand li of winding river.
The next morning, the eighteenth, Liu Yun, "Heavenly Venerable" Ding Ren, "Earthly Venerable" Wei An, Wu Tong, and Zhao Rou set out ahead of the others to survey the pavilion's surroundings and ensure the safety of the Alliance meeting.
They climbed the stone steps of Tengwang Pavilion, and upon reaching its uppermost level, looked out upon a boundless scene: the river ran like a silver ribbon, merging with the sky at the horizon; islets gleamed green in the distance, while closer by, trading ships came and went like shuttles in a loom. The view evoked that immortal line—"The setting sun and lone wild goose fly together; the autumn waters share one color with the endless sky."
A soft breeze played over the terrace, the river's murmurs at their ears. Wu Tong stood with hands clasped behind his back, eyes fixed on the endless expanse of water, and thought: Such majestic rivers and mountains, yet now thrown into chaos by An Lushan's rebellion—how can one not grieve?
Beside him, Liu Yun leaned on the railing and sighed:"In times of turmoil, the land remains—but how many homes lie in ruin, how many loyal souls have stained these waters red?"
Zhao Rou's gaze turned resolute."All the more reason the Alliance Against the Traitor must go forward. This realm must not fall into a thief's hands!"
The others nodded, their eyes now carrying a quiet determination. This gathering at Tengwang Pavilion would surely prove a decisive clash between good and evil.
Moved by the scene, Wu Tong began to recite The Preface to the Pavilion of Prince Teng. His voice rolled through the hall:
"In Yuzhang's ancient commandery, lies Hongdu's new prefecture. Stars divide in the wings and chariot constellations; the land joins Hengshan and Lushan. Embracing three rivers and girdled by five lakes, it commands Man and Jing to the west, and Ou and Yue to the east…"
As his rich tones filled the air, Zhao Rou took up the recitation, then Ding Ren, then Wei An, then Liu Yun—each voice weaving the ornate cadences of Wang Bo's masterpiece. Finally, Liu Yun closed with the famous poem:
"The lofty pavilion of Prince Teng looks upon the river isles,Jade pendants and phoenix bells—songs and dances now stilled.Painted beams greet the morning clouds at the southern shore,Beaded curtains roll up the evening rain from the western hills.Idle clouds and pool reflections drift through the endless days,Stars shift and seasons change through countless autumns.Where now is the prince who once dwelt in these halls?Beyond the balustrade, the Yangtze flows in vain."
A quiet awe settled over the group as they gazed at the rolling river, each feeling the weight of centuries. Wei An laughed heartily:"The Preface to the Pavilion of Prince Teng—a timeless work indeed! Even I can recite it backwards!"
Zhao Rou turned to Wu Tong with a smile."Brother Tong, the day you composed your poem at the banquet, drawing on this very preface with such elegance—I was deeply impressed."
Wu Tong shook his head, smiling modestly."Compared to Wang Bo, my work is but dust before the clouds." Yet a trace of pride still glimmered in his eyes.
Liu Yun laughed."Wang Bo's brilliance is unmatched, but Brother Tong's aspirations soar high. You should not be bound by officialdom—spread your wings across Heaven and Earth!"
Wu Tong laughed aloud."With such fine scenery, how can we go without fine food and wine?" He drew out the delicacies and wine he had prepared, setting them on the table."Brother Ding, Brother Wei, Sister Rou, Sister Yun—come, let us enjoy this time together!"
They all gladly took their seats. The fragrance of wine drifted, the dishes steamed in the cool breeze. Outside, the river flowed gently; the mood was light and unhurried. Zhao Rou reached for the smoked chicken, ready to tear it apart, when suddenly a deep, aged voice sounded behind them—clear, confident, and utterly unexpected:
"Make it six pieces. Leave the drumstick for me."
All five froze, turning sharply.
Somehow, without their noticing, a raggedly dressed old beggar now stood behind them. He was perhaps sixty, with a square face weathered by wind and sun, a short beard at his chin, a tall and sturdy frame, and rough, calloused hands. His patched clothes were worn but clean, showing no sign of squalor. On his back hung a large vermilion gourd. His eyes glimmered with mischief, and his mouth curved in a smile as he stared at the smoked chicken, his expression one of shameless, almost comical hunger.
Seeing their stunned faces, the beggar suddenly burst into hearty laughter. He waved a hand airily, speaking as if it were the most natural thing in the world:"What? Cat got your tongues? The drumstick's for me—surely that's not too much to ask?"
His tone was light, his bearing relaxed—as if he truly believed himself an honored guest at their table. The five exchanged puzzled glances.
Who was this old beggar, who could appear behind them without the faintest sound—and brazenly demand the choicest portion? Clearly, there was more to him than met the eye…