by Jin Yong
Temujin was still grateful for all that Ong Khan had done for him in the past and he felt it would be a great shame to sever ties between the families over such a trivial matter. He smiled, bent down and picked up Tusakha. Tusakha was still clamorous and tried to struggle free, but was held fast.
“Dear Ong Khan, sir, the children were only playing,” Temujin said, still smiling. “Let’s not get upset. He is a good boy. I am thinking of betrothing my daughter Khojin to him. What do you say?”
Ong Khan looked at Khojin, her eyes filled with tears, clear like a winter’s lake, her skin soft as a lamb’s. “Why not indeed? Let our families be tied in ever closer bonds; why not unite my eldest granddaughter with your son Jochi?”
“Thank you, Father,” Temujin said, and turned to Senggum. “Brother, we are a proper family now.”
Senggum felt that by birth he was of a higher station than Temujin, but he had always been jealous and resentful. He was not pleased that their relationship would be further cemented with these marriages, but he could hardly go against his own father, so he forced a smile.
Wanyan Honglie looked around and noticed the Six Freaks of the South standing in the crowd and a shock rippled through him. What are they doing here? he said to himself. They’re chasing me. I wonder if that evil Taoist is with them? But this time he had a whole army of soldiers to protect him, all he had to do was give the order. The Freaks, however, seemed not to have even seen him. He slipped behind a group of bodyguards. He was so consumed in thinking of how to deal with the Freaks that he barely noticed the alliance being forged between the two Khans.
Temujin was quick to assess the situation and realised the leopards had been poisoned by the group of strange southerners who had appeared in their midst. They had saved his daughter’s life. He waited for Ong Khan and the others to leave before instructing Boroqul to reward them with furs and gold. He ruffled Guo Jing’s hair and told him how brave he had been. Most adults would be too scared to risk their lives like that, let alone a child. How could he have been so brave? Temujin asked.
Guo Jing just smiled dumbly. “They were going to eat Tolui and Khojin,” was all he could come up with.
Temujin laughed. Tolui then told his father about their fight with Tusakha. Temujin was secretly furious to hear that Senggum’s son was bringing up stories of his past humiliation, but he did not let on. “Ignore him in the future,” was his only reply. He was silent for a moment, then turned to Gilden Quan.
“How much would you want to stay and teach my son your skills?”
Gilden Quan thought to himself for a moment. They had thought of retreating somewhere remote to teach Guo Jing, but staying here would be even better. “We would never have dared ask the Khan to let us stay and serve you. Pay us what you think we are worth. We are in no position to make demands.”
This response pleased the Khan and he instructed Boroqul to make the arrangements. Then he left to organise the farewell for the Jin Princes.
“CYCLONE MEI must have buried Chen here,” Ryder Han said when they had a moment to themselves. “So she came this way.”
“Our first priority is to find Iron Corpse – dead or alive,” Ke Zhen’e said.
“Indeed, if we don’t get rid of her, there will only be further trouble,” Zhu Cong said. “I fear she did not die from the poison.”
“We must avenge Fifth Brother,” Jade Han added, her eyes moist.
For the next few days, Ryder Han, Gilden Quan and Jade Han rode around the steppe looking for Iron Corpse, but they could find no trace of her.
“Brother Ke used poison on his devilnuts,” Ryder Han said. “She must have perished in some mountain cave.”
The others hoped he was right, but Ke Zhen’e knew just how ruthless Twice Foul Dark Wind were. He was anxious, very anxious, but now was not the time to share his feelings. He knew they would not pass until the day he could touch her corpse for himself.
ONCE SETTLED on the steppe they asked Guo Jing to take them to see his mother, Lily Li, so they could ask after Justice Duan’s whereabouts. It was the first time Lily Li had heard her home dialect in years and she burst into tears. She had scarcely met another Han Chinese, let alone someone from Lin’an. She and Jade Han found in each other’s hearts shared sorrows – loves lost and dreams of home – and their tears flowed just like their stories.
That night, Lily Li made them a feast of mutton – soy-braised, sliced and made into meatballs, a reminder of the fresh and delicate flavours they had left behind in the south. The Freaks ate greedily and together they reminisced.
“The Khan asked us to stay here to teach his son kung fu, so we will be here a few months at least,” Gilden Quan told her.
As evening turned to night, the Freaks took their leave and returned to their ger to discuss their plans.
“I don’t think we should go back south,” said Nan the Merciful.
“Brother,” Jade Han replied, “we’ve spent so many years travelling up here in the bitter cold. Now we’ve finally found the boy, why not take him back south and teach him our kung fu there?”
“I, too, am homesick. But Sister, what will Guo Jing do in the south?”
“The same as his father: plant rice, grow vegetables, chop wood and hunt! We will take care of him, but he won’t be idle.”
“Farming is a full-time job, will he have time to train?”
“That’s right, he will have to plough the fields, sow the seeds, transplant the seedlings, weed, water, reap, thresh, separate the hay, look after the oxen. He’ll have an hour at most to spare from morning till night.”
“That’s not enough! He’s no natural, let’s not forget.”
“Boys from the south are only free of the fields if their family has money, in which case they spend their days singing, flirting and gambling. Or else they study, write poetry and play chess. No-one respects us masters of the wulin. If the Mongolians ever invaded, we’d be the only ones able to defend our homeland!”
“It’s better he trains here, life in the south is too comfortable.”
The Freaks agreed; Guo Jing would be better off training here among the fighters of the steppe. And they had a contest to win.
The next day, Jade Han went to tell Lily Li of their decision. She too missed home, but if the Freaks had decided not to go home, neither would she. So, together, they stayed in the north, where the Freaks could continue teaching their fighting skills to Guo Jing and Tolui.
Temujin knew the Han Chinese were unsurpassed when it came to close combat, but he insisted the boys also learn Mongolian horsemanship and archery. The Freaks were not qualified to teach them this, so this part of their education was left to Jebe and Boroqul.
Evenings were reserved for Guo Jing alone, when the Freaks concentrated on boxing, swordsmanship, concealed weapon techniques and elements of lightness qinggong kung fu. Guo Jing worked hard and without complaint, motivated as ever to avenge his father.
Zhu Cong, Gilden Quan and Jade Han’s skills were still too advanced and Ke Zhen’e’s throwing and staff techniques were even more out of his reach, so the burden of teaching fell mostly on Ryder Han and Woodcutter Nan. Guo Jing studied each move with a methodical thoroughness, building a solid foundation. But they were only good for improving strength, not preparing him to meet someone also trained in the martial arts.
“You fight like a camel, boy,” Ryder Han often found himself saying. “They may be strong, but can they defeat a leopard?”
Guo Jing responded with a foolish smile.
The Freaks were tireless in their efforts, but could not help but feel discouraged when they saw how difficult it was for the boy to master these basic moves. But they could not give up, even if they knew he had little chance of matching Qiu Chuji’s student.
Gilden Quan decided to calculate their odds, using the skills in arithmetic he had honed in the marketplace: “I’d say Qiu Chuji has at most an eighty per cent chance of finding Ironheart Yang’s widow. That means we’ve got a twenty
per cent advantage already. Furthermore, it’s fifty-fifty that Yang’s widow gave birth to a girl, so that gives us another forty per cent. If it was a boy, he might be weaker than even our Guo Jing, so that’s another ten per cent. Say he’s tall and strong, he could be just as stupid as our boy. So, all in all, that adds up to an eighty per cent chance of us winning.”
The other Freaks paused and then nodded their agreement, even if they knew in their hearts that to imagine that Yang’s son would be worse at kung fu than Guo Jing was but a vain attempt at self-reassurance. But the boy was honest and obedient and they liked him very much.
2
TEN YEARS PASSED QUICKLY OUT IN THE STEPPES OF OUTER Mongolia, where the vibrant summer grass was covered year after year by winter’s thick blanket of snow. Guo Jing had grown into a burly young man of sixteen. With only two years left before the contest, the Freaks were stepping up their efforts. They had halted his riding and archery practice in order to concentrate solely on boxing and swordsmanship.
Over the years, Temujin’s tribe had grown as he defeated his rivals. He was a strict commander, collecting the best men around him, and his force only grew in skill and discipline. His bravery was matched by a deep understanding of strategy, and ever more territory, livestock and people of the north gradually came under his control. He could now stand as equal to Ong Khan.
The north winds abated, the snow stopped falling, but the desert was still icy cold.
It was Tomb-Sweeping Day and the Six Freaks of the South woke early. They prepared the cows and sheep as sacrifices and took Guo Jing with them to visit Zhang Asheng’s grave. The Khan’s camp at this point had moved some distance away, so that even on horseback it took half a day to get there. They climbed the hill where they had done battle all those years before and swept away the snow covering their brother’s last resting place. They lit candles, burned incense and said their prayers.
“Brother,” Jade Han began, whispering quietly. “These last ten years we have given all our efforts over to teaching the boy. He is not naturally gifted – in fact, he struggles. But we hope you are watching over us and will help him in the contest in two years’ time. The boy must not ruin the good reputation of the Seven Freaks of the South.”
The raw winds of the north had sculpted faces with sharper angles, bodies with harder edges. White hairs speckled the sides of their faces like stars in the night sky. Jade Han had lost none of her charms, but by now she was a beautiful woman rather than the blushing maid of yesteryear.
Zhu Cong surveyed the skulls piled beside the grave. Despite years of beating winds and snow, they were still perfectly intact. A feeling he could not give words to rose within him. He and Gilden Quan had searched for Iron Corpse all over this harsh landscape, in every valley and cave, yet they could find no trace of her, no skeleton, no sign she had ever existed. How could a blind woman live for so long in seclusion without leaving the slightest clue to her where-abouts? She had blown past like a noxious wind. The only evidence of all that had happened was this grave and the piles of skulls.
The Freaks ate and then started back home to get some rest before practice was due to begin again.
Woodcutter Nan was teaching Guo Split Mountain Palm technique, as it involved many of his most accomplished moves. After some eighty contortions with his hand, Nan suddenly struck at Guo Jing’s back and flipped the young man in a move known as the Hawk Fights the Rabbit. Guo Jing ducked and spun his leg in an Autumn Wind Blows the Fallen Leaves. Nan jabbed and thrust his palms in an Iron Ox Plows the Field.
Guo Jing was edging back when Nan shouted: “Pay attention!”
He made to hit Guo Jing in the chest with his left hand, Guo Jing blocked, Nan slapped his palms together, and Guo tumbled to the ground. Guo Jing met the packed earth and sand with both hands and rebounded back to his feet. His cheeks were hot with shame.
Woodcutter Nan was just about to explain the move when laughter burst through a nearby thicket. Out came a young girl. “Guo Jing, did your shifu get you again?”
“I’m practising, leave me alone!”
“I like it when you get beaten up.”
It was Khojin. Not much younger than her brother Tolui and Guo Jing, she had grown up with the boys, and this, together with her parents’ coddling, had turned her into a know-it-all. They often fought, but Khojin was at least able to admit when she had gone too far.
“I’m busy with my lessons, go away!” Guo Jing replied.
“Being trounced, more like.”
Just then a group of Mongolian soldiers came riding up to them. One of the squad commanders jumped down from his horse, and bowed: “Khojin, the Khan has sent for you.”
Mongolians did not bother with fancy titles, so his use of the Khan’s daughter’s given name caused no offence.
“What is it?”
“Ong Khan has sent messengers.”
“I’m not going,” she said, her brow wrinkled.
“The Khan will be angry if you don’t.”
Khojin’s betrothal to Ong Khan’s grandson Tusakha had been decided all those years ago, but her heart had not obeyed and her affections were firmly focused elsewhere. They were too young for it to be called love, but the thought of leaving Guo Jing and marrying the domineering Tusakha was too much to bear. Her lips puckered and she said nothing. But she could not defy her father, so she reluctantly followed the soldiers back to the camp.
THAT NIGHT, Guo Jing was woken by the sound of clapping outside his ger. He sat up.
“Guo Jing, come out.”
Guo Jing did not recognise the voice – it was speaking Chinese. He lifted a corner of the flap of material that covered the entrance. He could just about make out in the moonlight the shape of a person standing by the tree.
Guo Jing stepped out into the night and approached the figure. It was dressed in long, fluttering robes, hair swept up in a bun.
“Who are you? What do you want?”
“Are you Guo Jing?”
“Yes.”
“Where’s your dagger? The one that can slice through metal as if it were mud? Show me!” The figure twitched, then suddenly leapt towards him, a palm aimed at his chest.
Guo Jing dodged out of the way. “What was that for?”
“I was just trying to assess the extent of your abilities,” he replied, throwing another punch, quick and hard.
Anger exploded in Guo Jing as he leaned back to avoid the blow. He grabbed at the man’s wrist and with his other hand seized his elbow in a move known across the wulin as the Brave Soldier Breaks Wrist, part of the Split Muscles Lock Bones technique, as taught to him by Zhu Cong. Once you have hold of the wrist and elbow, a push and twist will pop the bones out of place. Zhu Cong had been perfecting the ancient technique over the last ten years in preparation for Cyclone Mei’s return.
This was the first time Guo Jing had fought someone other than his shifus and his intelligent choice of a Split Muscles Lock Bones move had taken his opponent by surprise. The hours of practice had proved worthwhile. Guo Jing was about to burst the man’s wrist out of joint when he saw another palm coming at his face. Guo Jing let go and jumped back. He turned as the force of the move sent a rush of air that burned his cheeks. It had only just missed.
Guo Jing turned back. The man was young and handsome, not much older than himself, it seemed, with long eyelashes and fine features.
“Not bad. Ten years at the hands of the Six Freaks of the South haven’t been a waste after all,” the man said.
Guo Jing was cautious. “Who are you? What do you want?”
“Let’s practise some more.” His palms were raised and ready.
Guo Jing did not move. He waited for another rush of air, then tilted, grabbed the man’s arm and pinched his cheek with his free hand. Guo Jing tugged at the mystery assailant’s jaw. Zhu Cong called this move Laugh the Jaw out of Joint. But this time, the young man defended with his right and struck with his left. Guo Jing used further manoeuvres from the Split Muscl
es Lock Bones technique, one after another. But the young Taoist was of nimble physique and his hands were quick. He turned and twisted so Guo Jing could not tell what was coming next.
Guo Jing was growing increasingly alarmed. The man’s foot flew up and struck his hip. Thankfully he had not put his entire strength behind the kick. Guo Jing’s hands flew around his body, defending his vulnerable spots as best he could, but the young man kept increasing the pressure. Just as he was beginning to think he would not be able to hold off the attack for much longer, a voice called from behind him: “Go for his stomach!”
Ryder Han. Guo Jing turned around and saw all six of his shifus. He had not realised they were all behind him. His spirit renewed, he did as his Third Shifu instructed. Ryder Han was right, the young Taoist’s lower body was not as strong. Before long, Guo Jing had forced his opponent back. Victory felt close, so he pressed on. The young man stumbled and Guo Jing performed a Mandarin Duck kick, one foot following the other like a pair of mating birds.
But the young man had laid the perfect trap.
“Watch out!” Ryder Han and Jade called out together.
But Guo Jing did not know what he should be looking out for. Before he knew it, the young man had grabbed hold of his right foot and hit him with his palm. Guo Jing could only somersault out of the hold and land on his back with a thump. Despite the pain, he flipped to his feet in a Flying Carp. He was about to attack again when he saw the Freaks had surrounded his opponent.
The young Taoist cupped his hands and spoke in a slow and clear voice. “Disciple Harmony Yin of the Quanzhen Sect,” he said, kneeling down. “I am here on instructions from my revered Master, Elder Eternal Spring Qiu Chuji. He sends his warmest greetings to the Heroes of the South.”
The Freaks were surprised and also a little fearful that the young man was here as part of some devious plan.
Harmony Yin rose to his feet, took a letter from inside his shirt and passed it to Zhu Cong.