by Jin Yong
The young men caught sight of each other’s swollen and bruised faces and smiled.
Wang Chuyi was less impressed by the Prince’s luxurious dress. He frowned and followed them into the Great Hall.
“It is my great honour to have the pleasure of Elder Wang and Guo Esquire’s company,” the Prince said, gesturing for Wang Chuyi to take the best seat.
The young man neither kowtowed nor addressed him as a fellow member of the Quanzhen, which angered the Taoist. “How long have you been receiving instruction from your Master?”
“I am unfamiliar with the martial arts,” the Prince replied with a smile. “My shifu’s lessons only lasted a few years and what he taught me was nothing more than three-legged cat skills. You would laugh at them.”
“While the skills passed down in the Quanzhen are certainly nothing exceptional,” Wang said through gritted teeth, “it seems a little unfair to call them three-legged cat skills. Did you know your Master will be arriving in a few days?”
“My shifu is already here,” Wanyan Kang said, the smile not leaving his lips. “Do you wish to meet him, sir?”
“He is? Where?”
Wanyan Kang clapped his hands. “We’re ready for the food!”
He then led his two guests along several corridors and past many decorated pavilions, until they came to the banqueting hall. Guo Jing was overcome with the sight of such riches. But he was ever anxious that they might run into the Prince’s father. The Great Khan wanted him dead, and yet he was also the father of Elder Qiu’s disciple! Should Guo consider him an enemy or a friend?
Half a dozen people were already waiting for them. One man had three distinct protrusions on his forehead; this was of course Browbeater Hou, the Three-Horned Dragon. He watched them enter, dressed in a look of displeasure. Guo Jing was not sure if they were welcome here, but the presence of the Prince reassured him. He averted his gaze as the memory of how his friend Lotus Huang had teased and taunted Browbeater Hou only that afternoon came to him. He felt a giggle rise that was fed into his sleeve.
“Elder Wang, these people are your great admirers. They have long desired to be acquainted with you,” Wanyan Kang said in his most charming tone. “Master Peng, you have already met.”
The two men nodded.
“And this is Master Liang, also known as the Ginseng Immortal,” the Prince continued. “He comes from the Mountain of Eternal Snow.” Greybeard Liang extended his hand in greeting.
“Such an honour to meet Elder Wang, the Iron Foot Immortal. My trip was not in vain! This is the most distinguished Lama Supreme Wisdom with the Five Finger Blade. I am from the northeast originally and he has come all the way from Kotonor. We have both travelled thousands of miles. We were all fated to meet here, I believe.”
He had a way with words, this Old Liang. Wang Chuyi cupped his hands and nodded to the lama.
Just then a loud noise came echoing from out in the corridor: “You mean to say, the Seven Freaks of the South are so big-headed because they think they have the support of the Quanzhen?”
Wang Chuyi turned and saw a shiny-headed bald man with bulging eyes enter. “Hector Sha, the Dragon King?”
“Yes?” the man growled. “Who speaks my name?”
How could I have offended him? Wang thought. We’ve never even met.
“I’ve heard so many speak in admiration of you, it is my honour,” he said in a soothing tone.
Hector Sha’s martial skills far surpassed those of his brother-in-arms, Browbeater Hou. But he was ill-tempered and was always shouting at his disciples, the Four Daemons of the Yellow River, which meant none of them had managed to learn anything but the most rudimentary skills. They had been out of favour with the Sixth Prince since that debacle of a fight between the Four Daemons and Guo Jing out on the Mongolian steppe, and Hector Sha had been ruthless in his punishment of the four young men. He had also ordered Browbeater Hou to capture Guo Jing as revenge, but humiliation had once again followed, not only in Guo Jing’s escape the day before, but now at the hands of a rather slim and feminine-looking young beggar.
Hector Sha had now lost patience and he saw no reason to hide his anger from the two guests. Guo Jing stumbled back and Wang Chuyi stepped in front of the young man to shield him.
“You would dare to protect the little vandal?” Hector Sha cried, striking out at Wang. Wang defended the attack, but at that moment, someone grabbed at their wrists and separated them. Both Sha and Wang had engaged their internal energy against each other, so it was a most remarkable feat to pull them apart.
The man was dressed in white and wore a thin fur coat tied with a wide belt. He must have been in his mid-thirties. He was handsome and moved with poise. Descended from a noble family, perhaps.
“May I present Master of White Camel Mount in the Kunlun Range, Gallant Ouyang!” Wanyan Kang exclaimed. “Master Ouyang has never been to the Central Plains before, so I believe none of you will have met.”
The young man’s appearance surprised not only Wang Chuyi and Guo Jing, but also Tiger Peng and Greybeard Liang. His skill was apparent to all, but apart from Guo Jing days before, they had never heard of White Camel Mount. He must have come from the western borderlands of the Chinese Empire.
“Brothers, I should have arrived days ago, but I encountered a small problem along the way. My apologies.”
He must know the women dressed in white that had tried to steal his horse, Guo Jing realised. I wonder if my shifus have met him already? Are they injured?
Wang Chuyi realised that he might not be able to defeat this man in a fight. “What about your shifu?” he asked, turning to the Prince. “Why don’t you ask for him?”
“Yes, good idea,” the Prince replied, and turning to his servants, “Ask my shifu to come and greet my guests.”
If Brother Qiu is here, Wang Chuyi thought, we might stand a chance.
Before long the sound of boots against stone came echoing down the hall. A hefty officer of around forty, dressed in brocade, appeared at the main door. His chin was adorned with a thick beard. Wanyan Kang approached him.
“Sir,” he said with a nod of his head. “Elder Wang insisted that he be allowed to meet you. He asked several times.”
A pulse of anger rose in Wang Chuyi. How dare this arrogant young rascal mock him? There was no way this plodding officer had taught him those moves.
“What do you want?” the man said, looking at Wang Chuyi. “I prefer not to associate with Taoists.”
Wang Chuyi was furious. “I’ve come to collect alms. One thousand taels of silver.”
Officer Tang was the head of the Sixth Prince’s personal guard. He had given the young Prince some basic lessons in martial arts when he was a boy, hence why Wanyan Kang addressed him as Shifu.
“What impudence!”
“One thousand taels of silver is a trifle.” Wanyan Kang stepped in. “Prepare the alms for the esteemed Taoist.”
Officer Tang was incensed and could not take his eyes off the monk. Nor could he understand why the Prince should be showing him such reverence.
“Please be seated,” Wanyan Kang continued. “Elder Wang, this is your first visit with us. You must take the best seat.”
Wang Chuyi refused, but after some jostling, he ended up settling at the head of the table. Three rounds of wine were served in quick succession.
“You are all the finest men of the martial world,” Wang Chuyi began. “Let us decide the matter of Mr Mu Yi and his daughter together.”
All eyes turned to the Prince. He took his time pouring himself a glass of wine, stood up and raised his cup to Wang Chuyi. “Your Reverence, do me the honour of drinking with me. The matter shall be dealt with as Elder Wang sees fit. I dare not presume to go against your word.”
Wang Chuyi had not been expecting this. He raised his cup and drank with the boy.
“Then let us bring Mu Yi here and we shall speak with him.”
“Why not send brother Guo to fetch him?” the Prince sugges
ted.
Wang Chuyi nodded.
Guo Jing was dispatched immediately to the Prosperity Inn, but upon his arrival he found Mu Yi’s room empty. Father and daughter had left, taking all their belongings with them. The inn boy said someone had come to visit and paid for the room, but he did not know who. Guo Jing hurried back to the Prince of Zhao’s residence.
“My sincerest thanks, brother,” the Prince said on Guo Jing’s return. “Where is Mr Mu?”
Guo Jing told them he had gone.
“This is my fault,” the Prince said. “Gather five men and look for them,” he ordered one of his servants. “You must find Mr Mu!”
The servant ran out the door. But Wang Chuyi’s head was swirling with suspicions. Two servants would be enough; why send so many? And why insist Guo Jing go himself in the first place? “The truth will always out,” he said out loud, a cold smile on his face.
“Exactly! Who can say what that Mr Mu is up to. A most odd fellow.”
“Elder Wang, to which temple do you belong?” Officer Tang asked coldly. “What are you doing here demanding money?”
“And may one ask to which country you belong, Officer? What are you doing here holding rank in the Jin army?” Wang Chuyi could see the man was Chinese. The thought that he had assumed a position in the Jin court to abuse his fellow countrymen disgusted the monk.
But Officer Tang hated nothing more than being reminded of his ethnicity, since it barred him from advancing further within the Jin ranks, despite his skill and loyalty to the regime. He had served the Prince of Zhao for two decades, and yet he was there for nothing more than show. Before the others knew what was happening, Officer Tang had barged past Greybeard Liang and Gallant Ouyang and was launching his fist at Wang Chuyi’s nose.
But Wang Chuyi caught his wrist with his chopsticks. “No need to resort to violence!”
Officer Tang was unable to struggle free of the Taoist’s grip. “Sorcery!”
“Come now, sir, sit down and join us for some wine.” Greybeard Liang laughed, patting Officer Tang on the shoulder.
Wang Chuyi was aware that he would be unable to use the same trick with the chopsticks on Old Liang, who was still gripping Officer Tang’s shoulder, so he let go of Tang’s wrist and aimed them instead at his other shoulder. Such a lowly, insignificant fighter as Officer Tang should be proud to have the attention of two such masters of the wulin at the same time. With a couple of short exhalations, Tang lurched forward, his hands plunging into a plate of fish bones and a bowl of hot and sour soup. Pottery fragments tore the skin on Tang’s hands and a few drops of blood tinged the spilt soup a pinky red.
The guests burst into laughter as they pulled back and out of the way of the hot liquid. Flushed with shame, Officer Tang fled from the hall. The servants, just as amused as the visitors, suppressed smiles as they cleaned up.
“The Quanzhen’s reputation is well deserved,” Hector Sha said. “I wonder if Elder Wang might care to enlighten me on something.”
“It would be my pleasure.”
“The Daemons of the Yellow River and the Quanzhen Sect have long been at peace now. Why does Elder Wang stir trouble by supporting the Seven Freaks of the South? The Quanzhen may command many disciples, but we are not afraid to resume old enmities on equal ground.”
“There has been a misunderstanding,” Wang Chuyi replied. “While I have heard of the Seven Freaks of the South, I do not know them personally. My martial brother has a bet with them, that is true, but I have no intention of helping them against the Daemons of the Yellow River.”
“Excellent. Then you will let me have this boy,” Hector Sha said, making a grab for Guo Jing’s throat.
Wang Chuyi gently pushed Guo Jing from his chair, just as Hector Sha’s hand cracked the back of it as easily as if it were made of rotten wood. It was a rare technique, executed perfectly.
“And still you protect the boy?” Hector Sha cried out.
“I brought him here, so I will see that he leaves in one piece. Why not settle this another day?”
“The boy has offended Brother Sha?” Gallant Ouyang interrupted. “Why not tell us how, and let us all decide what is to be done.”
Unsure of where Gallant Ouyang’s loyalties would fall, Hector Sha was reluctant to be drawn into a fight against him and the Taoist. “My four good-for-nothing disciples followed the Prince of Zhao north to Mongolia as part of his household. Just as we were about to succeed in our mission, this young scoundrel ruined everything and angered the Prince. If we don’t deal with him, what right do we have to stay here enjoying the Prince’s hospitality?”
Hector Sha was ill-tempered by nature, to be sure, but he was no fool. Attention now turned to Guo Jing. This young man and the Taoist were the only ones present who were not guests of the elder Prince Wanyan Honglie. Wanyan Kang was most displeased upon hearing Hector Sha’s account. He decided he would go along with the others and present the young man to his father.
Wang Chuyi was growing nervous, desperate for an escape plan, but fighting so many men at once was not an option. Had Wanyan Kang planned the entire affair? Had he been too naïve to think the young Prince would refrain from acting against his shifu’s martial brother? He should not have brought the boy here, but it would be difficult to get out now with both of them unhurt.
I must play along, that’s my only option, Wang Chuyi said to himself. Test the extent of their skills. “Men, you are all excellent fighters, famed throughout the wulin. It has been my honour to meet you all today. But this boy –” he pointed at Guo Jing – “is unaware of the offence he has committed, especially against you, Brother Sha. If you will not let him go, I am powerless to change your mind, even if I cannot agree with the way you are handling the situation. Perhaps it would be better if you all let the boy know the extent of your skills. That way he will know it is not that I don’t want to help him, but that I can’t.”
Browbeater Hou had been finding the whole exchange extremely boring, but this last sentence pulled him out of his stupor. “I’ll go first!” he cried, jumping up and standing before Wang.
“I, sir, am no match for your superior skills. No, rather than fight me, I suggest you give us a display to open my eyes to some new techniques, as well as teach the boy a lesson. That way he will never be so arrogant again.”
Browbeater Hou could sense a note of sarcasm in the Taoist’s words, but he could not quite be sure what meaning lay behind them, nor how to answer him.
Just as well, Hector Sha was thinking. I’m not exactly keen to fight a member of the Quanzhen. “Brother,” he said, turning to Browbeater Hou, “why don’t you show Elder Wang your Buried Under an Avalanche?”
Snow was still falling outside. Browbeater Hou rushed to the entrance and swept his arms up around his head, bringing the snow in until he had gathered a pile four feet high, kicking it into shape. He then retreated three steps and vaulted head first into the middle, where it reached up to his chest. Guo Jing looked on in puzzlement. He had never seen anything like it. Why should he choose to be upside down, motionless, in a mound of icy snowflakes?
Hector Sha turned to the others. “Please, everyone, bury him deeper.”
The others found the whole thing most amusing, if not a little strange, but together they kicked more snow into the pile. What they had not realised was that, being from the Yellow River, Hector Sha and Browbeater Hou were well-versed in water kung fu, and could hold their breath in water, snow and even soil for as long as a whole afternoon. This was just an everyday exercise for the two men.
The other men raised their cups and toasted the display. It was not until some time later that Browbeater Hou at last flipped out and back onto his feet in a display of Jumping Carp.
Guo Jing clapped the loudest. Browbeater Hou resumed his place at the table and shot him a fierce look.
“Third Uncle, you still have snow on your forehead,” Guo Jing said, unable stop himself.
“My name is the Three-Horned Dragon, not Third
Uncle, thank you! Do you think I don’t know I have snow on my head? But now that you’ve mentioned it, I’m not going to brush it away.” The heat from the fire was melting the flakes so that they now ran in three rivulets down his face, but he was playing the stubborn wife who will not heed her husband’s advice.
“My martial brother’s technique is a little clumsy, but quite amusing,” Hector Sha said, stretching his meaty fingers into a bowl of melon seeds, before flicking the empty shells into the pile of snow. The others were surprised to see the seeds were forming the shape of the Chinese character for “yellow”.
No wonder the Dragon King and his Four Daemons control the Yellow River; their skills are considerable indeed, Wang Chuyi said to himself. Turning back to the snow, he saw another character emerge, this time “river”. Next came “nine”. The Nine Bends of the Yellow River.
“Such accuracy, Brother Sha!” This time it was Tiger Peng the Outlaw who spoke. “Now it’s my turn to show Elder Wang what I can do!” At that he jumped up, and landed near the pile of snow, proceeding to catch the seeds Hector Sha was flicking to form his last character. Tiger Peng missed not one, despite the fact that they were small and travelling at speed.
The gathering erupted in applause and Tiger Peng returned to his seat with a smile spread across his face. Hector Sha stubbornly finished his phrase. His friend had stolen his thunder somewhat, but he did not seem to mind too much. He turned to Gallant Ouyang and said, “And what about Master Ouyang? What do you have to teach us rough and ignorant men of the east?”
Gallant Ouyang sensed the displeasure in Hector Sha’s voice. The Dragon King was a man to hold a grudge. He would have to do something to impress him. At that moment, the servants entered, bringing four types of sweets, and replaced the used chopsticks with clean ones. Gallant Ouyang snatched up the dirty chopsticks, and with a flick of his wrist, ten pairs flew through the air and landed in the snow, poking out like incense sticks in a temple censer. Four plum blossoms appeared beside Hector Sha’s melon-seed writing. Guo Jing, Wanyan Kang and the others were puzzled by the display but clapped in delight. Only Wang Chuyi and Hector Sha understood the significance of such skill.