Hu’s period pieces were usually set during the Ming dynasty, so Lee Khan’s Yuan dynasty setting makes it unusual. The story takes place during the declining years of the Yuan, when the Mongol rulers were losing influence, political intrigue was rife, and banditry was common. In 1356, the Han rebel Chu Yuan-chang led an uprising and took control of Nanking, and battles were taking place between rebels and Yuan loyalists across China as the dynasty struggled to keep control.

Hu, who co-wrote the film, depicts the events in microcosm, setting the action mainly in the Spring Inn, a crude gathering place on the dusty outer reaches of the empire. An ensemble piece par excellence, the film shows members of a rebel group working collectively to ensure the downfall of the powerful Lee Khan (Tien Feng) and his vicious princess Wan-Erh (Hsu Feng).

The story begins when the inn’s redoubtable owner Wan Xiu (Li Li-hua), a secret rebel, is told that Lee Khan will be staying at her residence, and she must prepare to receive orders. To ready herself, she contacts four young female fighters – including pickpocket Peony (Angela Mao) and the one-time bandit Yeh Li-hsiang (Helen Ma) – who pose as waitresses at the inn.

The scholarly Wang Chun (Bai Ying) and the beggar Sha (Han Yingjie) meet at the inn, along with other spies from both sides. Wan Xiu learns that Lee Khan is to collect a war map from a Yuan spy which reveals the battle positions of the rebel forces.

Wan Xiu and her compatriots are ordered to steal the map, and then kill Lee Khan. But Lee’s bodyguards are highly disciplined and his ice-cool princess Wan-Erh notices everything and will kill without warning. Even with the help of Lee’s general Tsao (Roy Chiao Hung), a rebel in disguise, the odds seem stacked against the plotters.

The casting is impeccable. Li Li-hua, who plays the innkeeper, had been acting since 1940, and although she does not take part in any fist fighting, she wields her club and bow with dexterity. Hsu Feng elicits some sympathy in spite of her wickedness, and martial arts fans will be thrilled by her fight with Angela Mao, a tightly choreographed bout on a barren hillside. Tien Feng, as the merciless Lee Khan, even manages to bring a hint of honour to tyranny.

Inns such as the Spring Inn are a recurring element of Hu’s films. With their landings, doors, rooms, and accoutrements like cups and chopsticks, inns provide the perfect location for Hu’s meticulously composed scenes of leaping, jumping, throwing and dodging.

Historically, inns were real locations for rebels to congregate in secret. An inn is a kind of closed world with its own rules once the door is shut, and Hu portrays them as a kind of hell, something emphasised by the torching of the Spring Inn at the end of Lee Khan.

As Hu noted in a newspaper article he wrote about the history of Chinese inns, they were common places to get murdered. “The traveller gets the impression that spending the night in an inn is agony,” he wrote.

Hu professed not to know much about martial arts styles, and used his deep knowledge of Peking opera, which had synthesised many combat techniques into performance styles, as a reference point for the action. Hu chose the choreographer of his earlier films, Han Yingjie, precisely because of his knowledge of Beijing opera.

Hung, who worked as a stuntman/bit player on Hu’s classic A Touch of Zen and counted him as a friend, gives the combat a harder look than Hu’s earlier films, with Hsu’s and Tien’s Mongol characters being especially brutal fighters.

The editing of the fight scenes gets faster and faster as the film progresses, and the final showdown between rebels and Mongols – a tour de force which is shot outside – is fast and intense, rather than balletic and elegant.

The costumes are also worthy of note. Hu sought out paintings to discover the looks and styles of each historical period he filmed, as he wanted his films to be accurate representations of their time, although that was often impossible to achieve, he has said. The colourful costumes of the Mongols are glamorous and striking, and depict their known predilection for fur.

In this regular feature series on the best of Hong Kong martial arts cinema, we examine the legacy of classic films, re-evaluate the careers of its greatest stars, and revisit some of the lesser-known aspects of the beloved genre. Read our comprehensive explainer here.