Chapter 29 — Teng Xuanji's Spearmanship

Teng Yuning said, somewhat annoyed, "Of all the weapons, the spear is the hardest to master. Qingshan, why must you be so stubborn?"

"Father. Grandfather."

Teng Xuanji smiled. "Actually, ever since I was small I've watched my uncles practicing in the training yard, and I envied them at the spear. So whenever Father and Mother were out, I'd take a wooden stick and use it as a spear. I've been at it two or three years now. I like the spear very much, and my spearmanship now shouldn't be any worse than my uncles'."

At the look on Teng Xuanji's face, everyone in the room laughed.

Could a child's words be taken seriously?

"Haha, Qingshan, a child shouldn't learn to boast," Teng Suning said with a laugh. "Every one of your uncles has practiced the spear a dozen years or more, with foundations solid as rock. How could a child compare?" The men of the Teng Rongjun clan might not be masters of the spear, but each had trained ten or twenty years, and none was to be taken lightly.

Teng Yuning laughed heartily beside him. "So that's it! No wonder your mother said you're always alone at home with the courtyard gate locked—you were practicing spearmanship. You kept it to yourself all this time because you were afraid we'd see and laugh at you, weren't you?"

Children love to play, yet Teng Xuanji was forever shut up at home—this had long since drawn the notice of Teng Yuning and Yuan Lan.

They had simply never said much about it.

"If you don't believe me, you can watch my spearmanship," Teng Xuanji said. He had no other way; to make his elders agree to let him learn the spear, this was all he could do. In truth, at home he had only ever practiced Xingyi Quan—he had never once practiced spearmanship.

"Fine, let's see just how formidable our Qingshan is," Teng Zhaoxian said with a laugh. "Come, to the armory."

The whole group left Teng Xuanji's dwelling.

The armory was a tall, vast building of solid bluestone, nearly two zhang high, four zhang wide, and fully ten zhang long.

"Clan Chief." Clansmen stood guard at the armory door.

"Open it," Teng Zhaoxian ordered.

The two great iron doors swung open with a boom. Teng Zhaoxian laughed and looked off toward distant Yuanyue Mountain. "Little Qingshan, go on—first pick yourself a spear you like. I want to see how formidable you are." So saying, Teng Zhaoxian and the whole crowd, Teng Xuanji among them, stepped into the armory.

"Wow!" Little Qingyu, in Yuan Lan's arms, stared around in amazement.

The armory floor was paved with bluestone, and weapons hung along the walls—heavy axes, nine-section maces, thick-backed cleavers, giant shields, bows and arrows. But most numerous of all were the long staves, one after another, long and short, some of wood and some of iron, all set against the walls. Strange to say—

not a single spear.

In the depths of the armory stood great iron chests, each four chi square, far too small to hold a spear.

"Where are the spears?" Teng Xuanji asked, puzzled, looking at his grandfather Teng Zhaoxian.

"Aren't those?" Teng Zhaoxian pointed at the various staves leaning against the walls and laughed. "Qingshan, these are all spear shafts; the spearheads are carefully kept in the iron chests. Go choose a shaft, and I'll fetch you a fitting head."

Only then did Teng Xuanji understand.

"Qingshan is too small—these shafts are all too long for him," Teng Yuning said with a frown. For a six-year-old to wield a long spear... the clan kept no spear that short.

"Qingshan, your strength is small now, so you'd best choose a softwood one," Teng Yuning said. "Among the wooden spears, the softwood shafts are the lightest—with the head, only five or six jin. With your strength you could wield that. Qingshan, you've picked that one—it's green nanmu, the heaviest kind. You can't handle it."

Among the wooden shafts in the Teng Rongjun armory there were chiefly three kinds: green nanmu, white waxwood, and softwood—all of them suitable materials for spear shafts. Of the three, softwood was the lightest, white waxwood next, and green nanmu the heaviest. Green nanmu, of course, was also the best.

Its toughness and springiness were excellent, and a shaft could hold power within it. A good green nanmu shaft generally came from a tree grown fifty years or more.

It was only thanks to the Teng Rongjun clan's situation against the great mountains that such fine material could be found at all.

"This one." Teng Xuanji gripped the green nanmu shaft. "Grandfather, fetch me the spearhead for it."

"This one, with a head, will weigh a good fifteen or sixteen jin," Teng Zhaoxian said worriedly. "To wield a fifteen-jin green nanmu spear well—I fear your strength isn't up to it yet." In Teng Zhaoxian's eyes, though his grandson had the strength of a hundred jin, handling a fifteen-jin spear with ease was still a tall order.

"Grandfather, just fetch me the head," Teng Xuanji said, and nothing more.

"All right. Let you try it, and you'll give up the notion." Teng Zhaoxian stepped forward, glanced at the mark on the shaft in Teng Xuanji's hand, then opened a great iron chest, rummaged a while, and drew out a spearhead. One glance told Teng Xuanji it was flat and buckwheat-shaped, with a high ridge, thin edges, and a sharp point; along the ridge ran a blood groove. Once thrust into a body, it would leave a gaping hole.

Below the head was tied a red tassel.

Teng Xuanji nodded inwardly. "This flat head can thrust, chop, and slash. The blood groove keeps the head from being gripped by muscle once it's in a body, so it can't get stuck. And the red tassel keeps an enemy's blood off the shaft and stops the hand from slipping." At a glance he judged that in craftsmanship this head was already of a very high order.

"I'll fit it for you," Teng Zhaoxian said, and joined the green nanmu shaft and the head together, tapping them on the ground a few times. Then he took nails from the side and drove them in with an iron hammer.

"There." Teng Zhaoxian smiled and handed over the spear. "This green nanmu spear weighs fifteen jin and is about seven chi long. Qingshan, can you manage it?"

Against a child's height, a spear nearly seven chi—one and three-quarters meters—was indeed long.

"Just watch." Teng Xuanji had no choice either; the spear was a bit long for him, but any shorter spear would have a softwood shaft, and he could not be bothered with such inferior wood. With Teng Xuanji's true strength, once he went all out, he might well snap a softwood shaft in two.

"Stand back, all of you," Teng Xuanji said.

At once the crowd scattered to the four sides. But the elders all wore faint smiles—clearly, they were waiting to watch the little fellow get his comeuppance.

"Hah!" Teng Xuanji gave a single-handed flick; gripping only the butt of the shaft in one hand, he brought the whole spear level.

"What arm strength!" Teng Zhaoxian and the others stared wide-eyed.

To hold a fifteen-jin spear by the very end of the butt alone and keep the shaft straight and level without sagging—that took tremendous arm strength.

"The boy was hiding his light at the year sacrifice," Teng Zhaoxian and the rest thought to themselves.

Holding the shaft in one hand, Teng Xuanji felt the weapon's power; after a brief moment he nodded to himself.

His left hand reached out to grip the middle of the shaft, his right hand shook, his left lifted—in an instant the green nanmu spear seemed to come alive, lashing out to every side like a nest of vipers. Teng Xuanji turned, his hands sliding, and the green nanmu spear traced an easy circle; then he brought it down in a fierce overhead chop.

"Crack!" The spear struck the bluestone floor.

Teng Xuanji's eyes were sharp; he shook the shaft with one hand, and the spear flew forward like lightning with a whistling "swoosh"—it even tore the air with a shriek.

"Grandfather, Father, Third Granduncle—how was that?" Teng Xuanji turned to look at the group.