Chapter 159: The Sword Debate at Mount Hua

After returning from the book signing event, Zhang Tan was so exhausted he didn’t feel like talking. Interacting with fans was fulfilling yet genuinely tiring—talking nonstop alone was draining.

Fortunately, once the signing concluded, he could relax for a while, as the Mount Hua Sword Discussion Tournament, organized by “Legends of Past and Present: Martial Arts Edition,” was scheduled to proceed as planned.

Named “Mount Hua Sword Discussion,” the event naturally sought to borrow some prestige from “The Legend of the Condor Heroes.” To capture the right ambiance, the tournament was indeed held atop Mount Hua.

Accompanied by his assistant Ma Weiwei and private editor Zhou Nan, Zhang Tan headed straight to the foot of Mount Hua, where Wang Conglun was already waiting at the airport to pick them up and take them to their hotel.

“Old Wang, Feng Ge, Bi Wan Zhen, hello!” Zhang Tan greeted with a smile upon meeting them.

Wang Conglun shook Zhang Tan’s hand, saying, “It must have been tiring, flying all this way.”

“Not too bad. I woke up and we were already landing. I even forgot to look at the blue sky and white clouds,” Zhang Tan replied.

After some polite small talk, Zhang Tan and his assistant got into the car and headed back to the hotel. Wang Conglun and the others still had more guests to pick up at the airport. Zhang Tan wasn’t the first to arrive at the hotel; many had come earlier.

Editors at the publishing house already knew Zhang Tan, and Li Qiuyu, an editor familiar with him, had prearranged a room and introduced all the other participants of the Mount Hua Sword Discussion Tournament.

Li Qiuyu also introduced Zhang Tan to the other authors: “Everyone, I don’t need to say much—the great writer of ‘The Legend of the Condor Heroes,’ Zhang Tan.”

The first to approach and greet him was a rather attractive female author with long hair and fashionable attire, though her face was a bit broad.

Zhang Tan smiled back, “Hello, you must be Cang Yue. I’ve read your novels—they’re really well written.”

Cang Yue immediately smiled, eyes narrowing with delight. “Thank you. I’ve been following your novels every day. They’re so good, I can’t even imitate your style.”

“You have your own style, which is great. By the way, when did you arrive? I see you all got here early.”

“I arrived this morning,” she replied.

After some courteous exchange with Cang Yue, Zhang Tan greeted the others one by one.

Many of the attendees were authors invited by “Legends of Past and Present: Martial Arts Edition,” along with several university professors specializing in martial arts literature, such as Han Yunbo and Li Qiru, who had written book reviews for the magazine.

They were all literary figures, but the hotel conversations weren’t exactly intellectually stimulating.

It was mostly a polite exchange: “I enjoy reading your novels,” followed by “The quality of your writing is quite high,” and after some time, the atmosphere warmed enough to drift into other topics.

Among these people, Zhang Tan was the only one who brought an assistant.

Though not particularly fond of pomp, preferring a relaxed and free style, having an assistant helped manage the trivial matters along the way so he could enjoy himself carefree.

Since not everyone had arrived yet, many activities couldn’t start, so the early arrivals gathered in the hotel courtyard to chat and pass the time. Li Qiru and Han Yunbo even engaged in a fierce and undecided game of chess.

Zhang Tan knew how to play chess but was not an expert. He was quite good at Gomoku, though he felt embarrassed to show off that skill—it seemed too highbrow.

He felt drowsy watching chess; the plane ride hadn’t been comfortable.

Fortunately, several female authors showed interest in him. Bu Feiyan approached and asked, “Detective, what are you busy with these days? After finishing ‘The Return of the Condor Heroes,’ are you still working on the last part of the Condor Trilogy?”

Bu Feiyan was a talented woman, a graduate of Peking University’s Chinese Department, currently pursuing a master’s in ancient literature. Among female authors, she was considered attractive. She and Cang Yue were like two shining stars; Cang Yue was also a talented woman, a graduate in architectural design from Zhejiang University.

In fact, few attendees at this author’s conference were not talented men or women.

Even Yang Pan, who looked like a rustic farmer, had once pursued a doctoral degree in Canada.

In the past, Zhang Tan might have felt inferior to them, but now some seemed to be overshadowed by his brilliance, especially among this group of rather average-looking authors—Zhang Tan’s temperament, features, and figure gave him an edge.

He grew more confident. “After finishing ‘The Return of the Condor Heroes,’ I planned to try a different approach. Now I’ve picked up ‘The Four Great Constables’ again and am preparing to write the third volume, ‘The Four Great Constables: Against the Cold Current.’”

“The Four Great Constables are great too. I really like each constable—Wuqing, Tieshou, Lengxue, and Zhuiming,” Cang Yue chimed in.

Bu Feiyan nodded. “I think the Four Great Constables would also make excellent TV or film adaptations. The story flows smoothly, and the characters’ personalities are more vivid.”

“Indeed, several film and TV companies have inquired about adaptation rights for the Four Great Constables, but nothing has been finalized,” Zhang Tan replied.

“Tanzhang, did the rights for ‘The Return of the Condor Heroes’ sell well?” another author, Shi Weihan, asked with envy mixed with a touch of jealousy.

Among mainland martial arts authors, except for some older ones before the founding of the People’s Republic, like Wang Dulu’s “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon” or Li Shoumin’s (the author of “Shushan Sword Heroes”) works, no martial arts novels had been adapted before.

Although many famous authors from Taiwan and Hong Kong had moved there from the mainland, they were considered part of the Taiwanese and Hong Kong literary scene.

Zhang Tan’s “The Legend of the Condor Heroes,” regardless of whether it pioneered a new literary school, had certainly broken new ground in film and TV adaptation.

Zhang Tan casually replied, “Many companies want to buy the rights, but I’m not planning to sell them yet. I want to see the ratings of ‘The Legend of the Condor Heroes’ first. If it becomes a hit, the price will definitely go up.”

Cang Yue sighed, “I really envy you. Your first novel was published simultaneously in simplified and traditional Chinese. Now you’ve written four books, each a bestseller, and you’re already a big name in the film and TV industry.”

“That’s exaggerated—just a small achievement,” Zhang Tan said modestly.

After chatting for a while, Yang Pan suddenly pulled out two decks of playing cards. “Want to play cards?”

Zhang Tan nodded. “Sure, want to play Dou Di Zhu or Ba Shi Fen?”

“Ba Shi Fen! That’s fun,” Bu Feiyan exclaimed.

“I don’t know how to play Ba Shi Fen,” Cang Yue shook her head.

Yang Pan shuffled the cards. “Then Dou Di Zhu it is. Two ladies and Tanzhang, we’ll play together while the others wait.”

Since they had time to kill, Zhang Tan pulled out a chair and sat down.

Shi Weihan and the others who didn’t get seats stood behind their chosen players, ready to join the fun. They kept debating—some said Ba Shi Fen was better, others Dou Di Zhu, some suggested Tui Pai Jiu, and others insisted Zha Jin Hua was more interesting. Opinions varied, no consensus reached.

Suddenly, Zhang Tan had a bright idea. “Let’s play Guan Dan.”

“Guan Dan?” everyone looked puzzled.

“You don’t know Guan Dan? It’s really fun, much better than Ba Shi Fen or Dou Di Zhu. There’s a saying: ‘No Guan Dan before a meal is like not eating at all.’ It’s easy to learn—you’ll get it in no time.”

He then explained the rules briefly.

Guan Dan combines elements of Dou Di Zhu, Ba Shi Fen, and Run De Kuai. Single cards rank from the biggest jokers down to twos; card combinations include four-joker bombs, six-card bombs or more, straight flushes, five-card bombs, four-card bombs, and so on, ranked from high to low.

Four players split into two teams, partners sitting opposite each other. They play designated ‘level cards,’ starting with the smallest two as the level card, which ranks just below the jokers and can be paired with any card. The winner upgrades the level, and the loser pays tribute. Otherwise, the rules are similar to Run De Kuai.

Guan Dan is popular in Jiangsu and Anhui provinces. Despite its crude name, it’s straightforward and enjoyable.

Under Zhang Tan’s guidance, everyone quickly understood the rules within minutes.

They then played Guan Dan with great enthusiasm.

At first, everyone was a bit rusty, but soon they got the hang of it and started making all sorts of card combinations. Bombs flew across the table, and the game became thoroughly enjoyable.

Compared to Dou Di Zhu, where only bombs are high cards, Guan Dan features straight flushes and card pairing, adding powerful moves. Players would slam down bombs, then a straight flush, then a six-card bomb, back and forth, with thrilling intensity.

When Wang Conglun brought the last guests to the hotel, he found a lively crowd gathered around a table, shouting out moves like “Bomb him!” “Don’t hesitate to play your bombs!” “Hit him, don’t let him escape!” “How many cards do you have left?” “Can’t call yet!” The scene was bustling with excitement.

Even the two university professors were drawn away from their chessboard, pausing their friendly rivalry to join the lively crowd.

Guan Dan had successfully passed the time while waiting.

Once everyone had arrived and evening fell, they went together to the restaurant for a banquet, glasses clinking as they shared life stories. Being literary figures, the gathering was somewhat more refined than a typical party, yet stories flew and jokes abounded like waves.

Since climbing Mount Hua at night was unsafe, after dinner everyone dispersed to stroll around casually, agreeing to set out early the next morning for the climb.

After all, coming to the Mount Hua Sword Discussion without climbing Mount Hua would be unthinkable.

“Tomorrow I plan to hike up Mount Hua on foot. Anyone want to join me?” Zhang Tan asked.

“I’m in,” editor Feng Ge raised her hand.

Xiao Duan also raised her hand. “I want to hike over Mount Hua too.”

Shi Weihan joined in as well.

Yang Pan considered raising his hand but hesitated. “Forget it, climbing one peak will tire you out completely. I’ll take the cable car.”

The women and several middle-aged professors naturally chose not to hike.

So, early the next morning, Zhang Tan, Feng Ge, Xiao Duan, Shi Weihan, two other authors, and several editors set off together on foot to climb Mount Hua.

Zhang Tan wasn’t a hardcore hiking enthusiast, but he believed that when visiting a mountain, one should conquer it personally. When he climbed Mount Tai with his grandfather and sister, he regretted taking the cable car. This time, for the Mount Hua Sword Discussion, he intended to climb every peak no matter what. For him, who exercised daily, it wasn’t difficult physically.

He enjoyed the thrill of conquering mountains.

After changing his clothes and arriving at the scenic area, a group of more than a dozen men set out with high spirits to conquer Mount Hua.

“Today we conquer this mountain—let’s go!”

“Mount Hua has only one path since ancient times; we’ll follow it till darkness!”

“We won’t skip any peak! We’ll climb them all!”

“This time, we’ll embody the spirit of the Foolish Old Man who moved mountains!”

“The first contest of the martial arts conference is to climb up ourselves. The first to arrive gets a precious imperial sword as a prize!”

“I, Xiao Duan from Wudang, will take the lead.”

“Haha, I, Shi Weihan from Shushan, won’t let you take first place.”

“Step aside! I, Feng Ge, am determined to win the imperial sword!”

(To be continued.)