Legend of Condor Heroes Book 3

by Jin Yong

  Huang Rong smiled and recited, “How can a beggar have two wives? Where did the neighbor have so many chickens from? The Zhou (dynasty) still had an emperor, why discuss many matters with the Wei and Qi (dynasties)?”

  The more the scholar thought, the more he realized the truth in what she said. He stood there staring blankly, unable to say a single word.

  Actually it was Huang Yaoshi who wrote that saying. He loathed the traditions and despised empty alms; he loved to scrutinize, refute, ridicule and satirize the empty meanings of old sayings handed down from great and worthy sages. Once he made many poems and songs to satirize Confucius and Mencius.

  Mencius told a story about a man from the Qi dynasty who had a wife and a concubine and yet he begged for cold rice and spoiled soup; also about another man who everyday stole a chicken from his neighbor. Huang Yaoshi said that these two stories were used to swindle others. About the later sayings the story went like this: During the Warring States period (475 - 221 BC) the Zhou Emperor was still on his throne, yet why did Mencius not support the royal family; but went to Prince Liang Hui and Prince Qi Xuan to whom he asked for a governmental position? Huang Yaoshi thought this action greatly disobeyed the way of the saints and sages.

  The scholar thought, “The man of Qi stealing chicken was a metaphor, unworthy of deeper study; but the last sentence, I am afraid even Mengzi himself under the ground would have difficulty refuting.” He looked at Huang Rong’s eyes and thought, “She is so young, how can she possess such weird intelligence?” Without saying anything else he led two people walked forward.

  When passing the lotus pond his gaze was caught by a lotus leaf on the pond; he could not help stealing a glance toward Huang Rong. Huang Rong stifled her laugh and turned her head another direction.

  The scholar led the two people entering the temple, asked them to sit in the east wing and had a young monk serve tea. “Please wait for a moment here,” the scholar said, “I am going to report to the Master.”

  “Wait!” Guo Jing said, “That Farmer Uncle is still holding up a big rock on the hillside; he can’t get away by himself. Uncle please help him first.” The scholar was startled and dashed out.

  “Now we can open the yellow pouch,” Huang Rong said.

  “Ah, if you did not mention it, I would have totally forgotten,” Guo Jing said. Hastily he took out the yellow pouch and tore it open. Inside the pouch was a plain sheet of paper without any characters written on it, only a drawing.

  The drawing depicted a man wearing royal attire of the India. The man was cutting his own flesh with a knife; his whole body was a mass of cuts and bruises, dripping with blood. There was a scale in front of him; on one end of the balance stood a white pigeon, on the other piled his cut flesh. The pigeon looked small, but it was heavier than the pile of flesh on the other end. A fierce looking hawk stood next to the scale.

  The pen stroke of the drawing was quite shoddy. Huang Rong thought, “Turned out that Ying Gu has not learned how to draw; her handwriting is not bad, but this drawing is like a child’s scribbling.” She looked at the drawing for half a day, but could not decipher what it meant.

  Seeing Huang Rong could not guess what the drawing was about, Guo Jing thought it was useless for him to try. He folded the drawing and held it in his hand.

  Not too long after they heard footsteps coming into the hall; the farmer walked in, ablaze in anger, supported by the scholar. He was very weary supporting that big rock for a long time.

  About the time needed to drink a cup of tea later a young monk walked in; clasping his hands in front of his chest he said, “Gentleman and lady have come from a far; I wonder what your noble concern was?”

  “We are seeking an audience with Emperor Duan,” Guo Jing replied, “We must inconvenient you to announce our visit.”

  “Emperor Duan is no longer in this mortal world, your wearisome trip has been in vain,” the young monk clasped his hands again, “Please have some vegetable dish, and then Little Monk will see you down the mountain.”

  Guo Jing was very disappointed; he thought of their untold hardship to get to this place, and now they have to go back down the mountain, how could this thing be good? But when Huang Rong saw the temple she was 30% sure, now seeing this young monk, she was 50, 60% sure. She took the drawing from Guo Jing’s hand and said, “Disciples Guo Jing and Huang Rong are here, hoping your respectable master would respect past relationship with the Nine-fingered Divine Beggar and the Peach Blossom Island, and grant us audience. We would appreciate it if you could give this sheet of paper to your master.”

  The young monk received the drawing. He did not dare to open it up; he only clasped his hands and turned around to go inside. Before long he came back, lowered his head and clasping his hands he said, “Respectfully invite you to come.” Guo Jing was ecstatic, he helped Huang Rong up and together they followed the young monk went inside.

  Although the temple looked small, it was very deep. Three people walked through a small alley covered with green flagstones, passed through a dense and shady small bamboo grove. The place was very quiet and serene, causing whoever went inside to shed their impure thoughts.

  There were three stone houses hidden among the bamboo trees. The young monk lightly shoved the door open and stepped aside, bowing his body to let the two to enter in.

  Guo Jing had a very good impression toward this polite and courteous monk; he smiled to express his gratitude, then side by side with Huang Rong he walked in.

  Inside the room he saw a small table with a sandalwood incense burner on top of it; next to the table two Buddhist monks sat on circular meditation mats. One monk had a dark complexion with high nose and deep eyes; apparently he was an Indian monk. The other monk was wearing a robe made of coarse cloth; his white eyebrows so long that they drooped down from the corner of his eyes. His face was gentle; although his eyes showed a trace of sadness, at a glance his overall expression was that of a graceful and majestic person. The scholar and the farmer were standing behind him.

  All of Huang Rong’s suspicion vanished; she lightly pulled Guo Jing’s hand and walked to the monk with long eyebrows; she knelt and bowed down to the ground and said, “Disciples Guo Jing and Huang Rong greet Shibo.” [Translator’s note: Shibo - martial uncle, the character ‘bo’ here denotes ‘older than one’s father’ or ‘father’s elder brother’, but since English does not differentiate between ‘older’ and ‘younger’ uncles, the generic word of ‘Uncle’ will be used throughout the chapter.]

  Guo Jing was startled, but without thinking he simply followed Huang Rong’s example and bowed to the ground, kowtowing four times.

  The monk with long-eyebrows smiled slightly; he stood up and held out his hands to raise the two people up. He said with a smile, “Qi Xiong [Brother Qi] had accepted a fine disciple, and Yao Xiong [Brother Yao] had gotten a fine daughter. I heard them say,” he pointed his finger to the farmer and the scholar, “Your martial arts are far superior to my disciples’. Ha ... ha ... congratulations, congratulations!”

  Listening to him speaking Guo Jing thought, “This speech obviously belonged to Emperor Duan; fitting his position as an emperor, but how come he turned into a monk? It’s very confusing. Why did they say that he is no longer in this mortal world? How did Rong’er know he is the Emperor Duan?”

  He heard the monk said to Huang Rong, “Are your father and Shifu well? When we met during the Sword Meet of Mount Hua your father has not married yet. Unexpectedly it has been twenty years and he got this beautiful daughter. Do you have any brothers or sisters? Which Senior hero is your mother’s father?”

  Huang Rong’s eyes turned red, she said, “My mother gave birth to me only; she passed away long time ago. I don’t even know her family.”

  “Ah!” the monk exclaimed, lightly patting her shoulder consolingly. “I have been meditating for three days and three nights, and ended just a moment ago,” he said, “Have you been waiting long?”

  Huang Rong pondered, “
Looking at his face, he is very happy to see us. If that’s the case, then stopping us and not letting us go up the mountain was his disciples’ idea.” Hence, she replied, “Disciples have just arrived. Fortunately these Uncles did their utmost to make things difficult for us; otherwise we would have arrived much earlier, Duan Shibo would still be in meditation and our visit would be in vain.”

  The monk chuckled and said, “They are afraid that I see too many outsiders. But actually how can we consider you as outsiders? Young Miss’ sharp tongue must come from your family. Emperor Duan has early on left this mortal world; I am now called Monk Yideng. [‘yi deng he shang’ -(Buddhist) monk ‘one lamp’] Your Shifu was present when I followed the three treasures; but I am afraid your father did not know.”

  It was only then did Guo Jing finally understood, “It turned out that Emperor Duan shaved his head and became a monk. He left the life of common man; that’s why his disciples said Emperor Duan has left this mortal world. Shifu witnessed it when he became a monk; if it was him who told us to come here, naturally he would not tell us to find Emperor Duan, but to see Reverend Yideng [yi deng da shi - great master Yideng; ‘da shi’ was a common respectable term to address a Buddhist monk]. Rong’er is really smart; just by looking at him she understood everything.”

  He heard Huang Rong say, “My father did not know anything about it; my Shifu also did not tell disciples.”

  Yideng smiled, “Certainly. There are more things going into your Shifu’s mouth than things coming out of it. He eats a lot, he speaks a little. He wouldn’t discuss the Old Monk’s business with others. You have been through a lot of hardships; have you eaten yet? Ah!” Speaking to this point he suddenly startled. He pulled Huang Rong’s hand and took her to the door to look at her face under the bright sunlight. He carefully examined her with a puzzled look on his own face.

  Although Guo Jing was slow, he was aware that Reverend Yideng had discovered Huang Rong’s injury. His heart was broken; abruptly he bent his knees and kowtowed several times. Yideng held out his hands underneath Guo Jing’s arms to raise him up. Guo Jing felt a burst of energy lifting his body up. He did not dare to use his strength to resist; riding on the force he slowly stood up and said, “I beg the Reverend to save her life!”

  When Yideng raised Guo Jing up, he was not only asking Guo Jing not to have too much ritual, but was also testing Guo Jing’s strength. Yideng was only using 50% of his strength; if he felt that Guo Jing was not able to resist, he would have retracted his force. He did not have any intention to use force against Guo Jing, if Guo Jing stayed motionless he would not add any more strength. However, in this one encounter he found out Guo Jing’s martial art to be deep. He did not expect Guo Jing to be able to ride on his force and stand up, automatically dispersing his energy. This surprised Yideng more than if Guo Jing only resisted by staying motionless on the ground. Yideng secretly thought, “Qi Xiong had really accepted a very fine disciple; no wonder my own disciples candidly admitted their defeat.”

  It was at this moment that Guo Jing said, “I beg the Reverend to save her life!” He had just finished speaking when suddenly he felt his legs wobble, his body involuntarily moved forward one step. Quickly he exerted his strength to resist but his body refused to obey his mind; his face turned red all over. He was shocked. “Reverend Yideng’s force can continue for so long!” he thought, “I’ve already tried to disperse it; unexpectedly it continued to lift me up. The incoming force has been broken, but a short moment later my own opposing force uncontrollably propelled myself forward. If it were a real fight wouldn’t my little life be gone? Eastern Heretic, Western Poison, Southern Emperor and Northern Beggar truly deserve their reputations.” This time he bowed and kowtowed with much more admiration; what he felt in his heart showed on his face.

  Yideng noticed Guo Jing’s countenance showed a scared and admiring look, he stretched out his hand to gently pat Guo Jing’s shoulder and said with a smile, “You have trained to this level, it really is not easy.” Meanwhile he had not released Huang Rong’s hand; he turned his head and smiled, “Child, don’t be afraid, set your heart at peace,” he said with a gentle voice. Then he helped her to sit on the meditation mat.

  In all her life Huang Rong never had anybody treated her with such compassion. Her father loved her very much, but his manner was a little bit eccentric. Normally he would treat her as a friend, without revealing the deep love a father had for his daughter. This time listening to Yideng’s warm words all of a sudden Huang Rong was overwhelmed as if she suddenly felt her mother’s tender love; the love she had never experienced. All the pain and suffering she endured for quite some time since she was injured suddenly burst out uncontrollably. “Wah!” she broke into tears.

  Reverend Yideng said with a comforting voice, “Good child, don’t cry, don’t cry! Uncle will certainly fix all the pain you feel.” Who would have thought that the gentler and more comforting his words were, the more Huang Rong was overwhelmed and she cried even louder. It was not until much later did her cry eventually became sobs as she tried to regain her composure.

  Hearing his promise Guo Jing was ecstatic, but upon turning his head around he saw the scholar and the farmer’s stiff eyebrows and bulging eyes; they were staring at him with angry looks on their faces. Guo Jing felt bad while thinking, “We can reach this place entirely due to Rong’er’s craftiness, no wonder they are mad. Reverend Yideng is this compassionate, yet his disciples were determined to hinder us. I wonder why?”

  He heard Reverend Yideng say, “Child, how did you get injured? How did you get to this place? Why don’t you tell your uncle everything?” And so Huang Rong wiped her tears and told him how she mistook Qiu Qianren as Qiu Qianzhang, how she took his palms strike and everything that happened.

  When Yideng heard the name Iron Palm Qiu Qianren, he frowned slightly, but immediately went back to listening Huang Rong attentively. While speaking, Huang Rong kept her eyes open to see Yideng’s face; even though his frown was very slight it did not escape Huang Rong’s eyes. When she got to the point where they met Ying Gu at the Black Marsh forest and how she gave them direction to find this place, Reverend Yideng’s countenance once again momentarily changed; he lowered his head in deep thought, seemingly he was reminiscing over past events, and was grieved and pained over them.

  A moment after Huang Rong shut her mouth Reverend Yideng heaved a sigh and asked, “And then what happened?”

  Huang Rong continued by recounting how the fisherman, the woodcutter, the farmer and the scholar had used all possible means to make things difficult for them. The woodcutter easily let them go up the mountain, therefore, she said some praising words on his behalf; but to the rest of them she added some spices to make their offenses worse than they were. Deliberately she made the scholar and the farmer mad.

  Several times Guo Jing interrupted her, saying, “Rong’er, don’t talk nonsense; these Uncles are not that bad!” But Huang Rong kept talking like a spoiled child in front of Reverend Yideng, telling him all kind of things, making the faces of the two disciples standing behind Yideng turn red and blue. They did not dare to open up their mouths in the presence of their master.

  Reverend Yideng repeatedly nodded his head, “(Sigh), how can you treat guests coming from afar like that? These kids were really rude towards friends; I am going to tell them to apologize to you two later.”

  Huang Rong stared at the scholar and the farmer with a smug expression; meanwhile her mouth did not stop; she told everything until how they ended up at the temple’s gate. “Afterwards I gave that drawing for you to see, and you asked me in; then they did not dare to hinder us anymore,” she said.

  “What drawing?” Yideng was surprised.

  “It’s about some eagle, some pigeon, and someone cutting his own flesh,” Huang Rong replied. “Whom did you give it to?” Yideng asked.

  Before Huang Rong could answer the scholar took the drawing from his pocket and presented it with both hands. “Disciple has it,�
� he said, “Shifu has not finished meditation just now, I have not presented it to Shifu yet.”

  Yideng held out his hand to take the drawing, he smiled to Huang Rong and said, “You see, if you did not mention it, I wouldn’t know a thing.” Slowly he opened up the drawing and looked at it; he knew what the drawing meant. He smiled and said, “Turned out others were afraid I would not help you and sent this drawing to stir me up. Don’t you think they underestimated the Old Monk too much?”

  Huang Rong turned her head to see anxiety and deep concern on the scholar and the farmer’s faces; she felt strange. “Why is it that when they heard their Shifu promise to treat me they looked like they are losing their lifeblood? Is the medicine the most precious pill that they hate to give it up?” She turned her head back to see Yideng was carefully examining the drawing. He brought it under the sunlight to see the quality of the paper, he lightly flicked it several times; his face showed suspicions.

  “Did Ying Gu draw this picture?” he asked Huang Rong.

  “Yes,” Huang Rong answered.

  Yideng was silent for half a day then asked again, “Did you see it with your own eyes when she did it?”

  Huang Rong knew something was amiss; she tried to recollect what happened that time and said, “When Ying Gu wrote those, her back was toward us. I saw her pen moved, but I did not see with my own eyes whether she was writing or drawing.”

  “You said she gave you two other pouches; let me see the contents of the other pouches,” Yideng said.

  Guo Jing took the pouches from his pocket and Yideng examined them; his face changed slightly. “Indeed that is so,” he muttered softly. He gave the three sheets of paper to Huang Rong and said, “Yao Xiong is an expert in calligraphy and paintings; your educational background came from your family, certainly you understand connoisseurship. Why don’t you take a look at these three sheets and tell me what you think.”