Volume One: At the Foot of Mount Zhongnan Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Spear, Supreme Among All Weapons

That morning, Li Mingyu and his master, Xuan Ba, led their horses out to the village square, armed with horse lances at their sides. Li Xuanba spoke first, “The horse lance is the king of all weapons! In battle, when one borrows the strength of a galloping mount, no armor, no matter how sturdy, can withstand a single strike.” As he finished, he reached for his own lance, grasped its yin-yang hilt with both hands, and the shaft vibrated with a resonant hum, the two-foot-long blade flashing coldly as it trembled. Then Li Xuanba continued, “The horse lance can stab, slash, swing, smash, thrust, slice, and flick. Its changes are infinite, all depending on the wielder’s intent. Watch closely!”

With those words, Li Xuanba mounted his horse in one smooth motion, holding the lance in reverse grip. With a light shake of the silken reins, the horse responded instantly, tossing its head and swishing its tail, neighing fiercely as it broke into a spirited trot across the open ground.

After two laps, the horse was warmed up and began to pick up speed. Li Xuanba let out a thunderous shout, squeezed the horse’s flanks with his legs, and the animal surged forward, hooves flying, gathering even greater momentum. Borrowing the force of the charging steed, Li Xuanba thrust the lance forward like a venomous dragon.

A streak of cold light shot toward an imaginary foe in the air. Before the first move was even completed, he pressed the rear hand down, flipped the front palm, and swept the lance upward from below. Then, gripping the shaft at its midpoint, he gave it a sharp shake, and the lancehead darted left and right in quick succession. Finally, following the motion, he drew his arm back and brought the weapon down in a chopping smash, his hands steady at a spot two feet from the butt.

These movements flowed with the speed of a leaping hare and a swooping hawk; before the set was finished, the horse had barely covered two strides.

Li Xuanba urged his mount on, man lending strength to horse and horse amplifying the man’s power. The horse lance in his hands swept, smashed, stabbed, sliced, flicked, and cut—truly a display of unmatched mastery. As the lance whistled through the air, it gave off a strange, moaning sound, as if transformed into a writhing, flying dragon, churning the air like a raging sea.

Li Mingyu stood to the side, clapping and cheering, marveling inwardly. He thought to himself that his master, having been away for over half a year, must have faced the tempering of real battles; his horse lance skills had advanced leaps and bounds, transformed beyond recognition compared to past practice.

When Li Xuanba’s set was done, the horse slowed gradually. He rode over to Mingyu, tugged the reins, and the well-trained animal came to a halt right in front of him.

Li Mingyu hurried forward to steady the horse for his master, exclaiming, “Master, your horse lance is powerful and thunderous—truly the peak of perfection. It seems your technique has reached new heights, many times more formidable than before.”

Xuan Ba dismounted, satisfied with his earlier performance, and said, “These past years, living in seclusion in the mountains, undistracted by worldly matters, I devoted myself to martial practice and gained many insights. While serving with your second uncle’s army, I sparred with many seasoned commanders and soldiers, discussing and perfecting martial arts, which benefited me greatly. Later, on the battlefield, after several real fights with blades and spears, my understanding came together, and I finally broke through my previous limits.”

“Actual combat truly is the best way to hone martial skill,” Li Mingyu said, delighted by his master’s breakthrough. The stronger his master became, the more he could learn.

Li Xuanba nodded approvingly. “Exactly. Whether with the saber or the lance, you must never rigidly follow set patterns. On the battlefield, situations change in an instant—your enemy won’t fight according to your predetermined moves. Only by practicing until your techniques are second nature, until you can wield them as naturally as breathing, can you triumph over your foes.”

Li Mingyu wholeheartedly agreed. In his past life, he had also been skilled in combat, so he understood this well. Often, when an enemy attacked, the mind had no time to react, but the body responded instinctively. In modern terms, this was training the body’s neural reflexes to develop conditioned responses to danger.

Well-trained special forces soldiers in later times could even kill a snake that tried to bite them while sleeping outdoors. More accurately, before they were fully awake, their bodies sensed the threat and responded reflexively. When faced with an enemy’s sudden thrust, the body would dodge naturally, and the hands would counterattack as they had practiced countless times.

Li Xuanba saw Mingyu listening intently and continued, “I’ve already explained the basic attack methods of the horse lance—there are only so many. But each lineage has its own subtle variations in application. My lance technique was originally created by our Li family ancestors, but after my recent breakthroughs, I realized that while our style was clever and flexible, it lacked raw power. So I made some improvements to the moves, and today is the first time I’ve demonstrated them in front of anyone.”

Li Mingyu, excited, rubbed his hands together. “I was just wondering why your lance technique changed so much after your half-year absence. So it’s because you advanced and refined it. Please teach me quickly—I can’t wait!”

Li Xuanba laughed heartily. “Hold your horses! To master the horse lance, you must first learn to ride. Today, I’ll teach you to ride a horse. Only when you can sit as steady as a mountain will we begin.”

With that, Li Xuanba lifted Mingyu and set him on his pony, a small horse named “Trensu,” then stepped back, smiling. “First, learn how not to fall off.”

In his previous life, Li Mingyu had ridden horses at a riding school a few times, so he knew some basic techniques. But those horses were well-trained, with instructors guiding him, and the most he did was a gentle trot. Here, however, the pony was bare-backed, with no reins, no stirrups, not even a handhold.

Trensu, untrained and unused to being ridden, squirmed restlessly, trying to shake off the unfamiliar weight. Li Mingyu had to cling to the pony’s neck with both arms and grip its flanks tightly with his legs just to stay on. But his nervous squeeze made Trensu uncomfortable, and when squirming failed, the pony began to buck and leap in place. Mingyu felt as if he were in a tiny boat tossed by stormy seas, his body swaying wildly back and forth.

One careless moment, his grip slipped, and—thud—he landed flat on his back. Trensu, with its goal achieved, shook its mane and trotted away.

Li Mingyu scrambled to his feet, glancing over to see his master, arms folded, watching with an amused, half-smiling look. Unwilling to give up, Mingyu declared, “Again!”

He strode over to Trensu, grabbed the pony’s neck, and tried to climb on. Though Mingyu had personally groomed and fed Trensu daily, making the pony tolerant of his approach, it balked at being mounted. Each time Mingyu tried to swing a leg over, Trensu shook him off, dragging him several yards as he clung to its neck.

Li Xuanba watched the spectacle with great amusement, laughing heartily.

Irritated that his master not only refused to help but also mocked him, Mingyu thought angrily, “Even that wild tiger, Little Black, obeyed me—how can this little pony defy me?” Determined, he shouted, “You’re asking for it!” Gripping the pony’s neck tightly, he twisted his torso and arms, then, with a loud shout, executed a side throw, sending the pony tumbling to the ground.

Trensu lay on its side, legs flailing in the air, struggling to rise. As it tried to get up, Mingyu seized the moment, wrapping his arms around its neck, tightening his hold, and threw his weight forward—“Again!”—thud, another takedown.

Clamping his arms tightly, Mingyu pinned the pony’s neck under his armpit, using his whole body weight to hold it down. The pony struggled and wailed, its hooves digging furrows in the dirt, raising clouds of dust. Mingyu growled, “Give in yet? If not, we’ll keep going! Let’s see if you dare refuse me again!”

Trensu, being just a pony and not as strong as Mingyu, couldn’t break free no matter how hard it tried. After a while, exhausted, it let out a couple of pitiful whinnies, its resistance fading away.

Mingyu knew he had finally tamed it. Though naturally strong, he was still a boy and this had drained a good deal of his strength. Any longer, he would have tired before the pony did. Seeing Trensu surrender, he let go, and the pony lay on the ground, sides heaving as it panted for breath.

Mingyu straddled the pony and barked, “Trensu, up!”

When the pony didn’t move, he slapped its head and snapped, “Still playing dead? Get up!” Stung, Trensu struggled to its feet, now thoroughly chastened and obedient. Mingyu sat upright on the bare back, no longer needing to cling to the neck to stay steady. Squeezing his legs to the pony’s flanks, he commanded, “Go!”

Trensu obeyed, stepping forward in a tentative trot.

As Mingyu grew more accustomed, he called, “Giddy up!” The pony quickened its pace, and Mingyu felt himself swaying, nearly losing his balance. Hastily he slapped the pony’s head again. “Slow down!” Fearful of another slap, Trensu slowed immediately.

Mingyu kept his legs tight, shifting his weight forward with the horse’s motion, gradually learning how to balance. He soon managed a full lap around the clearing, then stopped before his master. “Kneel,” he said to Trensu, “I want to get down.”

Trensu stood dumbly, unmoving. Mingyu sighed inwardly—aren’t horses supposed to be clever? Why is this one dumber than my tiger cub? Not the least bit understanding, refusing to kneel. Am I supposed to jump off and risk a twisted ankle?

With no other choice, Mingyu pressed down firmly on the pony’s head, and finally Trensu understood, folding its legs and sinking to the ground. Mingyu swung a leg over and hopped off, turning to his master with pride. “Master, how’s my riding? Not bad, right?”

Li Xuanba, arms crossed, had been expecting a comedy of errors. His intention had been to let Mingyu suffer a little, so he’d learn how difficult it was to tame a horse and the importance of treating animals with respect. He had planned to explain how to win a horse’s trust, how to mount, and how to guide it.

He hadn’t expected his disciple to skip all that and simply subdue the pony by brute force. The method was crude and direct, but effective. He couldn’t help but marvel that a boy so young possessed such strength—the pony, though small, still weighed two or three hundred pounds. Yet Mingyu had tossed it about as easily as a kitten.

Li Xuanba finally said, “Not bad, I suppose. Later, I’ll make you a saddle for Trensu. Try not to cling to the horse’s neck all the time—it’s undignified.”

After this, he composed himself and began to teach Mingyu, step by step, the improved Li family lance technique he had developed. The family’s original style had sixteen moves, but with Xuanba’s new insights and improvements, he distilled it to twelve powerful stances, their potency undiminished but their efficiency greatly increased.