by Jin Yong
"Tai Shishu, please understand,” Yuan Zhen replied, "Disciple thinks that my En Shi’s enmity is deep, yet if we consider it carefully, our Sect’s prestige is more important. If he would tell us the precious Saber’s whereabouts for our Sect to obtain it, then we would let him go. After three years, disciple will find him to avenge my En Shi.”
"So be it,” the old monk said, "In the Wulin world, good faith is of priority. Our words are like arrows. Even toward big criminals or the most evil people, Shaolin disciples should not break our promise.”
"Respectfully received Tai Shishu’s instruction,” Yuan Zhen said.
Zhang Wuji thought, "These three Shaolin monks not only possess outstanding martial art skill, they are also virtuous eminent monks; too bad they unconsciously fell into Yuan Zhen’s sinister plot.”
He heard Yuan Zhen shout to the ground again, "Xie Xun, did you hear my Tai Shishu? Three Seniors have agreed to let you go.”
Suddenly from underground came the reply, "Cheng Kun, do you still have a face to talk to me?”
As Zhang Wuji heard this heroic, but bleak voice, which he recognized as his Yifu’s voice, his heart was shaken. He fought the strong urge to dash forward, kill Cheng Kun and rescue Xie Xun, knowing that as soon as his presence was detected, three Shaolin eminent monks’ black ropes would immediately strike him. Even without Cheng Kun joining the fight, he knew he could not match the collaboration of these three monks. He thought, "I will wait for that evil monk Yuan Zhen to go, then I will step forward to pay my respect to the three monks. Then I will explain the entire complicated story. They are enlightened Buddhists, they must know how to tell right from wrong.”
"Xie Xun,” he heard Yuan Zhen say with a sigh, "You and I are old, why do you still painfully hang on to those past events? At most in twenty more years, you and I both will return to the yellow earth. I know I have wronged you, but I have also done you some good. Let the matter of the past
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go.”
As he was rambling on, Xie Xun did not pay him any attention. He simply waited until he was done speaking, then he said, "Cheng Kun, do you still have a face to talk to me?”
Yuan Zhen talked repeatedly for half a day, but the answer was always, "Cheng Kun, do you still have a face to talk to me?”
Yuan Zhen coldly laughed and said, "I give you three days to think it over. After three days, if you still do not want to tell the Tulong Saber’s whereabouts, you know with what method I will deal with you.” As he said that, he stood up, paid his respect to the three monks, and walked down the hill.
Zhang Wuji waited until he walked far. He was about to arise to greet the three monks when suddenly he felt something different on the air around him. This sneak attack did not have the least bit of forewarning. He was shocked and immediately rolled away, while feeling two long objects from above of his face coming horizontally across, perhaps no more than half a foot in front of his face. It was a swift and marvelous attack, but did not carry the least bit of wind. These objects were
precisely the long black ropes.
As he rolled a little more than a ‘zhang’ away, another black rope was pointing toward his chest. This black rope was as straight as a lance or a staff, coming fast to pierce his body. At the same time, the other two ropes wound around from behind him.
Only a moment ago he had seen four masters of Kunlun Pai, in short succession, lost their lives under these three black ropes. So he knew that these strange weapons were very fierce. Feeling the danger he was facing at this precise moment, he was even more shocked.
Flipping his left hand, he caught the black rope piercing his chest, thinking he would fling it to the side. But suddenly the rope shook and a whiff of mountain-moving, ocean-stirring internal energy attacked the pit of his stomach. If this attack hit its target, all his ribs would be broken and his five internal organs would be crushed.
In the time of split seconds, Zhang Wuji moved his right hand to the back, warding off the two black ropes threatening his back, while his left hand launched the Qian Kun Da Nuo Yi, backed by Jiu Yang Shen Gong. One hand pulled the other pushed and he let his body follow the force. With a ‘whiz!’ he flew up to the sky.
Right that moment, three, four flashes of lightning lit up the sky. Two of the eminent monks grunted, as if they were amazed at his martial art skill. These lightning illuminated Zhang Wuji. Three eminent monks lifted up their heads, only to see that the martial art master whose skill had reached the pinnacle of perfection was actually a peasant young man with a filthy face. They were even more surprised.
Three black ropes flew up menacingly like three black dragons, aiming Zhang Wuji from three different directions. Taking advantage of the lightning, Zhang Wuji looked down to see clearly the three monks’ appearances. The one sitting on the northeast corner had a black face, as black as the bottom of a wok. The one on the northeast corner had a sickly yellowish face, the same color of a dry wood. The monk sitting on the south had a deathly pale, paper-white face. All three monks had deep cheeks. They were so thin that it looked as if they did not have any flesh on their bodies. The yellow-faced monk only had one eye. The five eyes of the three old monks sparkled under the lightning so that they looked even more mysterious.
As he saw the three black ropes curling toward the upper part of his body, Zhang Wuji pushed to the left and reached to the right. One hand swept, the other tangled as he borrowed these three monks’ forces to wind the three black ropes together. This move was based on Wudang Pai’s Taiji technique, which he learned from Zhang Sanfeng. The force was like a vortex, the three black ropes were wound into one.
The lightning flashed, the thunder rumbled continuously; the Heaven was showing off its soul-shaking power. Zhang Wuji made several somersaults midair, before his left foot landed on a pine-tree branch. As he steadied his footing, in between the crashing thunder he said in a clear voice, "Junior [orig. hou4 xue2 wan3 bei4 - younger generation who studied later] Ming Jiao Jiao Zhu [the Ming Cult’s Cult Leader] Zhang Wuji, pays his respect to three eminent monks.”
His left foot was treading on the tree branch, his right foot high up in the sky, while he bowed in respect. As he bowed down, the pine-tree branch followed his movement, bobbing up and down slightly like a wave. Zhang Wuji stood steadily, his body appeared graceful. Although he was bowing down, he was up on the tree looking down, so he did not degrade his position.
As the three monks felt their ropes were wound up by Zhang Wuji’s internal energy, they shook
their hands and the ropes separated. In this short exchange, the three monks had used the three different stances of nine different styles [san1 zhao1 jiu4 shi4]; each style concealed dozens of variations, dozens of killer moves. Who would have thought that each one of these three stances of nine styles was warded off by the opponent? Each style was extremely dangerous. If the opponent missed even a fraction of a hair width, his flesh would be crushed and his bones broken, he would die a violent death. However, Zhang Wuji appeared to stay composed, as if he was crossing a ravine like flat ground. The three eminent monks had never faced this kind of superior opponent. No wonder they were very amazed.
They actually did not know that to neutralize these three stances of nine styles, Zhang Wuji was forced to exhaust his entire strength. So as he was standing on the fluctuating pine-tree branch, he took the opportunity to regulate the troubled internal energy [orig. zhen1 qi4 - genuine breath] in his ‘dan tian’ [pubic region].
The martial arts Zhang Wuji used just now consisted of Jiu Yang Shen Gong, Qian Kun Da Nuo Yi, and Taiji Quan, three major divine skills, but for the final somersault in midair, he used the technique he learned from the engraving of the Sheng Huo Ling.
Although the three Shaolin eminent monks possessed unique skill in martial arts, they had been living in seclusion for decades; they did not follow the human affairs. Obviously, they had never seen even one of these four martial arts. They vaguely felt, however, that his internal energy was somewhat similar to Shaoli
n Jiu Yang energy, yet it also felt far superior to Shaolin’s divine energy in a subtle way. As they heard him introducing his own name, who was unexpectedly the Cult Leader of the Ming Cult, the admiration and surprise they felt earlier immediately turned into rage.
The old monk with deathly-pale face spitefully said, "Lao Na [lit. old cassock - referring to self] was wondering which martial art expert descended down to pay us a visit; turns out it is the big devil head of the Devil Cult. Lao Na, three brothers, have shut ourselves up for dozens of years, ignoring the mundane affairs of this world. Even our own Sect’s important business usually eludes our attention. Today by chance we get to meet the Devil Cult’s leader; that is truly the good fortune we couldn’t even hope for in our lifetimes.”
To hear him mentioning the words ‘devil head’ and ‘Devil Cult’ left and right, it was obvious to Zhang Wuji that they bore a very deep grievance against his Cult; he could not help hesitate greatly, and was at a loss as how to reply.
He heard the yellow-faced monk with one eye say, "The Jiaozhu of the Devil Cult is Yang Dingtian! How can it be Sire?”
"Yang Jiaozhu has passed away almost thirty years ago,” Zhang Wuji replied.
"Ah!” the yellow-faced old monk exclaimed, but did not say anything. He sounded shocked, as if he was utterly crushed and broken-hearted.
Zhang Wuji thought, "He looks exceedingly grieved to hear about Yang Jiaozhu’s death. His friendship with Yang Jiaozhu in the past must be very deep. Yifu was Yang Jiaozhu’s subordinate. Perhaps I can bring up the old friendship and then tell them how Yuan Zhen bore a deep hatred toward Yang Jiaozhu, and I’ll see what happen.” Thereupon he said, "Da Shi [reverend - grand master] must have known Yang Jiaozhu then?”
"Of course I do,” the yellow-faced old monk replied, "If Lao Na did not know the great hero [the word here is ‘da ying xiong’] Yang Dingtian, how could I turn into a one-eyed man? Why would we, three martial brothers, have to sit in suffering for more than thirty years?”
He said those words matter-of-factly, but the extreme pain and deep hatred behind those words were obvious. Zhang Wuji groaned inwardly, "Bad! It’s bad!” He understood that this old monk’s eye went bad under Yang Dingtian’s hands, so the three martial brothers lived in seclusion for the last thirty years of their lives, making a painstaking effort, was to avenge this enmity. No wonder they were greatly disappointed to hear the death of their archenemy.
The yellow-faced old monk suddenly let out a clear whistle and said, "Zhang Jiaozhu, Lao Na’s Buddhist name is Du E [lit. crossing distress]. This white-faced Shidi [younger martial brother] is Du Jie [lit. crossing calamity]. This black-faced Shidi is Du Nan [lit. crossing difficulty]. Since Yang Dingtian [his given name means ‘top of the sky’] has died, our three people’s deep hatred and great resentment must fall into the current Jiaozhu. Our martial nephews, Kong Jian and Kong Xing have died under your honorable Cult’s hands. Since you dare to come over here, you must be a fearless man. As for the dozens of years gratitude and grudges, let our martial art skills be the judge.”
Zhang Wuji said, "Junior [wan3 bei4] does not have any enmity against your precious Sect. I come here to rescue Yifu, Jin Mao Shi Wang Xie Daxia. Although Kong Jian Shen Seng [divine monk] accidentally perished under my Yifu’s hands, the background story is rather complicated. As for Kong Xing Shen Seng’s death, it has nothing to do with my humble Cult. The three of you cannot listen only to one side of the story. You must be able to discern right from wrong.”
The white-faced old monk, Du Jie, said, "So according to you, who harmed Kong Xing?”
Zhang Wuji frowned and said, "According to Junior’s understanding, Kong Xing Shen Seng died under the imperial family’s Ruyang Palace’s warrior.”
"Who is the leader of the Ruyang Palace’s warriors?” Du Jie asked.
"The daughter of the Ruyang Prince,” Zhang Wuji replied, "Her Han name is Zhao Min.”
"I heard from Yuan Zhen,” Du Jie continued, "That this girl has joined hands with your honorable Cult. She has abandoned her royalty, abandoned her father, and defected to the Ming Cult. Is it true?” He was aggressively pressing on step by step.
Zhang Wuji did not have any choice but said, "That’s right, she ... right now, she ... she has crossed from darkness to light.”
In a loud voice Du Jie said, "The killer of Kong Jian is the Ming Cult’s Jin Mao Shi Wang Xie Xun. The killer of Kong Xing is the Ming Cult’s Zhao Min. This same Zhao Min has also broken into the Shaolin Temple, captured our Temple’s disciples. The worst of it all, she went as far as engraving insulting words on our revered sixteen Luohan idols. If we add my Shixiong’s [older martial brother] eyeball to those offenses, the three of us bear a hundred years of grievance. Zhang Jiaozhu, if we do not settle this debt with you, then with whom?”
Zhang Wuji heaved a deep sigh, thinking that since he had decided to shelter Zhao Min, her previous excessively wicked deeds could only be heaped on his head. In that blink of an eye, he suddenly understood his father’s feelings when he committed suicide when confronted with his beloved wife’s former crimes. He thought that as the settlement of Yang Jiaozhu and Yifu’s enmity from the past until today, "Du Jie is right: If I do not undertake it, who would?” He stood straight up, sending his strength to his foot, and the bobbing tree branch he was standing up suddenly stayed still. In a loud voice he said, "Since the three honorable masters say so, Wanbei cannot run away from this responsibility. Then only Wanbei, one person, can accept all offenses. But as Yifu harming Kong Jian Shen Seng, there were innumerable difficulties surrounding that event. I am
asking three honorable masters not to hold him accountable.”
Du E said, "What do you depend on that you dare to plead for Xie Xun? Do you think we, three martial brothers, will not kill you?”
Zhang Wuji thought that as things had come this far, he must fight to the end; he said, "With one against three, Wanbei is definitely not your match. Which one of the three honorable masters will grant instruction to me?”
Du Jie said, "Fighting one to one, we cannot defeat you. This is about an enmity as deep as the sea, we don’t have to follow Jianghu custom. Good devil head, come to receive your death. Amitabha Buddha!”
As he invoked the name of Buddha, Du E and Du Nan spoke in chorus, "May Buddha shows mercy!” Three black ropes flew in a flash to coil around his body.
Zhang Wuji dropped down to evade the ropes, but before his feet touch the ground, he flipped midair and charged toward Du Nan. Du Nan raised his left palm; with an abrupt turn of his palm, a strong gust of wind attacked Zhang Wuji’s lower abdomen. Zhang Wuji turned sideways to evade; using the Qian Kun Da Nuo Yi on his palm he ward off the attack. In the meantime, Du E and Du Jie’s pair of black ropes curled down on him. Zhang Wuji smoothly skated half a circle. Du Jie waved his left palm and launched a noiseless attack.
Zhang Wuji moved from tree to tree, sending attack after attack. Suddenly his palm hacked down, several hundred raindrops, as big as soybeans, flew toward Du E, carrying a strong gale of wind. Du E leaned his head sideways to evade, but dozens of raindrops still hit his face so he felt pain nonetheless. "Good kid!” he shouted. The black rope shook. It made two circles in the air and struck down toward the top of Zhang Wuji’s head. Zhang Wuji flew like an arrow to avoid the circle of rope and attack Du Jie at the same time.
The more he fought, the more alarmed he became, as he felt his body was surrounded by the airstream from the three black ropes and the gust of wind generated by the three palms, which gradually tightened around him like glue. Ever since he started teaching himself martial art, he had never met such superior opponents like these three monks. Not only their stances very complicated, the abundance of their internal energy was matchless.
At first, Zhang Wuji was still able to use 70% of his strength in defense and 30% for offense. More than 200 stances, however, he started to feel that his pure and clear internal energy gradually turned muddy that in order to survive he could onl
y defend and not attack at all. His Jiu Yang Shen Gong was actually unlimited; the more he used it, the stronger he was. But right now, every move he made consumed enormous internal energy that little by little he felt his stamina decrease. Actually, it was also because he had never had this kind of experience ever since he trained the Shen Gong [divine skill/strength].
After several dozens more stances, Zhang Wuji thought, "If I keep fighting, I will only deliver my life in vain. I’d better escape today, and come back with Grandfather [orig. wai4 gong1 - maternal grandfather], Yang Zuo Shi [left emissary], Fan You Shi [right emissary], and Wei Fu Wang [bat king]. With five of us joining forces, I am sure we will defeat these three monks. At that time we will be able to rescue Yifu.”
Immediately he sent three stances attack toward Du E in his attempt to break out of the encirclement. Unexpectedly, the circle of three long black ropes was as tight as copper wall or iron rampart. Several times he attacked, each time he was pushed back and was unable to get out. He was greatly shocked. "Turns out these three monks collaborate as one individual,” he thought,
"Can anyone in the world really achieve this kind of interlinked minds?”
He did not know that Du E, Du Jie and Du Nan, three monks had spent more than thirty years sitting in meditation together. Their biggest skill was in using the ‘interlinked minds’. As one person moved, the other two understood his intention immediately. This ‘telepathic’ skill sounded mysterious, but these three men had been together in one room for more than thirty years; concentrating in interaction with each other in training, so it was not surprising that their minds could react as one person.
Zhang Wuji further thought, "If that is the case, then although Grandfather and the others come together, we might still be unable to breakthrough these three men’s interlinked minds. Could it be that in the end my Yifu is beyond deliverance? That I will lose my life today?”
As he was anxious, his focus was slightly dispersed, his shoulder was swept by Du Jie’s five fingers, and the pain entered the bones and marrows. He mused, "My own death is nothing to be regretted, but Yifu’s injustice must be washed clean. Yifu has always been a proud man. Since he has fallen into others’ hands, he will not utter half a word to defend himself.” Thereupon, in a clear voice he said, "Three Old Honorable Masters, since Wanbei has stranded over here today, my life is difficult to protect. A real man is not afraid of death. What else can I say? There is one matter I need to clarify, though .”