A Battle to the Death

Tale of the Marshes is one of China’s earliest novels. It is a swashbuckling tale of epic proportions that recounts the life of a group of bandits living on the margin of Chinese society. In its realistic description, this account of a battle with a tiger is stunningly modern.

Tale of the Marshes[i]

Seeing it thus, Wu Sung cried “Ah-ya,” then rolled down from the green rock. The big beast was both hungry and thirsty. Barely touching the ground with its paws, it sprang upward with its whole body and then swooped down from midair. Wu Sung was so startled that the wine he had drunk turned into cold sweat. In a moment Wu Song saw the tiger was about to pounce on him and he quickly dodged behind the beast’s back. It was most difficult for the beast to find anyone from that position, so planting its front paws on the ground and raising its legs at the waist, it lifted itself up. Wu Sung again dodged and slid to one side. When the tiger saw that it had failed this time, it gave out a big roar like a thunderbolt from the mid sky, shaking the mountain ridge. Then it made a scissors-cut, its iron cudgel-like tail standing upside down, but Wu Sung again slipped aside. Ordinarily, the big beast seized its prey either with one swoop, one lift, or one scissors-cut. Failing to grab him by these three means, it lost half of its spirited temper. After a second failure with a scissors-cut, it roared once more and moved around in another circle. When Wu Sung saw the beast turn back, he lifted his cudgel with both hands and brought it down from midair with one swift and mighty blow. There was a loud sound and a tree fell, its twigs and leaves streaming down all over his face. Opening his eyes, he gazed fixedly. In his excitement, he had missed the big beast but struck instead an old withered tree. The cudgel had broken in two, and one half of it he now held in his hands.

Its temper now thoroughly aroused, the big beast bellowed and again turned round with a forward thrust. Wu Sung made another leap, retreating ten steps. The creature had barely managed to place its forepaws in front of Wu Sung when, throwing away his broken cudgel, he clutched the tiger’s mottled neck with a cracking sound and pushing it down, held it tightly. The animal attempted to struggle, but Wu Sung grabbed it with all his might and never released his grip for a moment. With his foot he kicked the beast over its face and eyes. The tiger started roaring again and dug up with its paws two heaps of yellow mud beneath its body, forming an earthen pit. Wu Sung pressed the beast’s mouth straight down the yellow mud pit. It became helpless and impotent. With his left hand grasping tightly the beast’s mottled neck, Wu Sung freed his right hand and lifted up his first – the size of an iron hammer – kept pummeling it with all his strength. After it had been struck fifty to seventy times, fresh blood began to gush out from its eyes, mouth, nose, and ears. Wu Sung, using all his superhuman strength and inborn prowess, in a short while pounded the tiger into a heap as it lay there like an embroidered cloth bag.