by Derek Dorris
“However, there is another danger that is unique to you. Because your internal gains have been so accelerated, you haven’t learned to control this ability to its fullest. When internal energy is utilised during combat, it raises the metabolism to funnel more strength into the punches and kicks. If you cannot control that strength properly, then under the stress of combat, you run the risk of putting too much pressure on your metabolism and internal organs. This could be fatal. If you decide to use your internal power in combat, let it be years from now, when you can control it. Of course, we hope you never use it.”
“Nothing,” Jian Dang said, “nothing suffocates your mind or your art like the internal effort to dominate an opponent.”
This was the last thing the Earthly Three said to him. Bai Feng had spent half his life at Earthly Mountain and deeply loved his eight martial uncles and three Grandmasters. He wanted to stay there but at the same time, he was young and eager to see the world. So he left.
As the memories of the last ten years flooded his mind, a tear rolled down his cheek. Wong Shi Hong felt compassion for this young man who had grown up without any real family. He sat forward in his chair. “Feng'er, we are from the same sect, you and me. That makes us family. Xun Da is my disciple and therefore your martial brother. You belong to us and us to you.”
Bai Feng kneeled and bowed his head to the floor. “Thank you Uncle Wong, that makes me so happy.” The tears flowed freely.
Wong Shi Hong placed a kind hand on his back. “There now, that's a good boy. Let's find Da’er. We have work to do.”
* * *
Bai Feng had breakfast and left the inn. He felt better than he ever had before. Wong Shi Hong is a good man, he thought. So is Brother Da. I'm lucky to have found them so quickly—to be able to count on them so completely.
Li Jing was still watching after Wu Chen who was showing signs of recovery while Xun Da was waiting with Wong Shi Hong outside. He had procured some horses and was getting them ready when he looked up and saw Bai Feng coming out. “You look better Feng'er. I'm in awe of your strength.”
Bai Feng smiled. “If it wasn't for you and Uncle Wong, I'd be in worse shape.”
“If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't have put yourself within Wangchuk Drup's grasp in the first place,” Xun Da laughed.
“That's not true,” Bai Feng said seriously, suddenly thinking about Wu Chen. “I owe that bastard plenty.” Those words came with the realisation that his ego was in play. He stopped and rebalanced himself.
Wong Shi Hong had been sitting on a stoop finishing of a flask of rice wine, watching him, remembering the difficulty of his own path. “Don’t worry Feng’er; we'll catch up with him eventually. He's injured so he's probably holed up somewhere and therefore no trouble for the time being. Our immediate problem is the Divine Alchemist. By now Wangchuk Drup has probably informed him of Li Jing's plan and he's on his way to confront Silver Phoenix.”
With the sudden realisation, Xun Da cursed himself. “That's right! When we attempted to fool those mercenaries into believing that she, Folding Wind, and the Blue Lady had joined us, we inadvertently tipped them off to our ultimate intentions concerning the three. But Shifu, why is he going straight for Silver Phoenix?”
“Yu Guo Wei has no choice now but to eliminate her first. If he kills the Blue Lady first, then Folding Wind will come after him and with him, he's got Silver Phoenix to contend with too. If he eliminates Folding Wind first, the two women will seek revenge on him. However, if he gets rid of Silver Phoenix, then neither the Blue Lady nor Folding Wind will feel compelled to act. Folding Wind never reciprocated Silver Phoenix’s affection. While he will be no doubt angered, he will see the matter as being between Yu Guo Wei and her. Fu Xiaoli hates Silver Phoenix ever since she tried to seduce Tao Huiqing away from their marriage so she won't act either.”
Bai Feng weighed in, “But if we could contact them and let them know that attempting to kill Silver Phoenix is the first step in a three-step plan to kill all of them, might they not rally to our cause? Uncle Wong, if you’re right, Yu Guo Wei is making a mistake. By attacking Silver Phoenix, he’s making it more likely that they’ll take our side. If he does nothing, we are merely relying on Li Jing's tenuous suspicion that the Three Greats could be encouraged to help the Blue Lady achieve vengeance on Wangchuk Drup.”
“Tenuous it may appear,” Wong Shi Hong said, “but Li Jing's plan is ingenious. It will work and Yu Guo Wei can't risk the very slim odds that it won't. He needs to move now. We should leave for Mount Yiding immediately.”
Desecration at Mount Yiding
Known throughout the Jianghu as the “Silver Phoenix”, Yang Shu had lived on Mount Yiding since she had followed Tao Huiqing there forty years earlier. The great Folding Wind had just parted with his wife Fu Xiaoli and was in a state of deep melancholy. Seeking a quiet place to meditate, he built a hut on the east side of the mountain. He blamed Yang Shu for what had transpired and when he discovered she was following him, he even attacked her. When it was clear she wasn't going to defend herself, he turned his back on her in exasperation and warned her one last time to leave him alone. He left that day, travelling north to Shangqing where he eventually became a Taoist monk and established his own monastery. Over the following decades, his Shangqing style of kung fu was forged there. Yang Shu had stayed behind, taking over Tao Huiqing’s hut on the east side of Mount Yiding but claiming the entire mountainside for herself. Nobody dared argue with her.
She was now in her sixty-sixth year but remained strikingly beautiful. Her hair was black, flecked only here and there with strands of grey. Her skin was still smooth, almost ivory white—an unusual shade for someone who hailed from the western plains. She lived a solitary life practicing her kung fu and writing poetry, not speaking to anyone in years. Not until yesterday evening when she received a visit from an elderly nun of famous standing.
Ng Méh-è was a dignified looking woman of slight build but possessing unusually strong eyes. She was forty years older than Yang Shu and had travelled the countryside all her life as a wandering ascetic. But she was equally renowned as a brilliant scholar. Wong Shi Hong and Bai Feng's injuries had prevented them from leaving Gongsum as quickly as they needed to so the old man used his connections to make contact with Ng Méh-è who he knew was in the area. Having known each other since childhood, they continued to bump into each other throughout their decades of devout wandering and had met only recently. She was one of the few people the Majestic Wanderer trusted absolutely and, in addition to that, an ancient nun was the best candidate to make contact with a person like Yang Shu—a dangerous recluse who had sworn off men and not spoken to anyone in years.
Indeed, Yang Shu was honoured to receive a visit from the famous scholar with whom she shared a strong passion for poetry. She invited Ng Méh-è into her hut, served her some tea, and received the message.
“The 100 Fists Wanderer must be mistaken, Senior Ng,” Yang Shu had said at first. “I have no enmity with Yu Guo Wei; filthy old man—why would I have anything to do with him?” She glanced sharply at the nun. But from the forthrightness in the old lady’s face, Yang Shu understood there was no insult intended.
“I'm afraid this comes down to a somewhat awkward issue. But after all, what does a nun understand about the world of men and women?”
Yang Shu knew immediately of what and whom Ng Méh-è was speaking. “Please be courteous Senior Ng,” she warned. “I've been most welcoming to you so far.” The threat was barely veiled but the nun pressed on without any evident reticence.
“Heroine Yang, you are a respected Wulin figure and nobody of decent character would dare be discourteous to you not to mention in your own home. But I'm too old to mess around with words. Wong Shi Hong is known neither for rashness nor stupidity so you should consider this message seriously. You are a part of a strange trident which, under very special circumstances, can be made to work against Yu Guo Wei and the Qui dogs he works for. Yu Guo Wei knows this and he
is coming here to kill you because of it.”
“You believe he thinks so little of me?”
“Of course not; Yu Guo Wei isn't an idiot. Although I doubt you would ultimately prevail against him in a duel, he would be lucky to escape injury and he wouldn't want to take that chance. Plus, accidents can bring down anyone on a given day. Wong Shi Hong is certain he'll bring help. He's travelling with sixty experts and a company of Qui soldiers. No doubt, they'll surround you and either burn you out into the open or attack you en masse.”
“You speak like a seasoned warrior, Senior Ng, not a religious woman.”
“You don't journey through this world as I have and not pick up a thing or two.”
“Then I will heed your words and expect danger. But I won't leave this mountain. It means too much to me.” Yang Shu’s tone then softened. “Would you like some more tea?”
Ng Méh-è admired Yang Shu for her composure in the face of such danger but particularly for her ability to look past the embarrassment of her love for Tao Huiqing. She thought it strange that, of all the Ten Greats, she was known least for her heroism. She saw a magnificent dignity in the way she carried herself—the spirit of a true hero. She heard that Yang Shu had an interest in poetry and was suddenly struck by a desire to hear it. “Yes, please, one more cup? And then if it isn't too outrageous of me to ask, maybe you could recite one of your poems for me? I think they would be quite something to hear.”
The younger woman was stunned and deeply honoured that someone of Ng Méh-è’s scholarly standing would wish to hear her poetry. And so, the conversation changed.
They spoke about poetry and literature late into the night. Just before dawn, after only a couple hours of sleep, Ng Méh-è rose, wished her well, and left. Yang Shu was sorry to see her leave but noticed a scroll left behind on the table. She opened it and saw one of the poems she recited for Ng Méh-è the night before. The nun had written it out verbatim in the most exquisite calligraphy and signed it: “Silver Phoenix, Gallant Hero.” Tears welled in the corners of Yang Shu’s eyes.
* * *
Later that morning, the Silver Phoenix stood in the crisp air of dawn practicing her kung fu while thinking of that poem. It was a morning like most others at this time of year. The humidity of the summer hadn't picked up yet and a gentle mist hung over the reeds at the bottom of the slope where she practiced. Over the last few months, she made great gains and was relishing her training of late. As she cycled through her taolu, she recited the poem. It was written at a time when she was obsessed with Tao Huiqing so it was spun from both turbulent yet mournful feelings and with each sharp turn in emotions, the execution of her stances became more wondrous and fierce. In her maturity, she had come to realise the folly of that obsession but she still loved him and that was enough to inspire her to recite it for the nun whose forthright nature on the tender subject she had respected. It was also enough to fuel her artform this morning.
Her Silver Fire mace moved with a dazzling beauty like rays of light in the morning sky. Weighing nearly fifteen kilograms not counting the chain, it looked and felt like an especially vicious weapon but she wielded it like a deity. It never left her person and although she had developed a devastating empty handed form around her mace technique, like the Blue Lady and her Shrieking Blade, she rarely attacked without it. As she turned her head that morning to execute a low lateral striking stance she noticed a shimmer of light coming from the reeds at the foot of the slope. She smiled to herself, sat down cross legged, and waited.
The birds in the trees moved first, startled by the sounds of arrows piercing the air. Silver Phoenix sat perfectly still and waited for the dozen or so arrows to approach. At the last moment, she raised her mace and rotated it in an arc of silver, sending each of the arrows away from her in different directions. As the last arrow deflected, she was on her feet and moving like a tiger. The swinging mace head and the chain acted like a wall with which she continued to shield herself as she made straight for the reeds, her internal kung fu extraordinary.
Half of the Qui soldiers had scattered with fear by the time she flew into the meter-long reeds. Of course, some of them retreated backwards by running straight into the pond behind them but most of them opted to take cover in the brush. From there, the reeds became a place of sudden bursts of horror as one of the great warriors of her time appeared and disappeared in no discernible sequence, killing swiftly yet brutally as she went.
At the far side of the pond, a small smelly hunchback on a horse was feeling very good about himself. Yang Shu was exactly where he wanted her. Fully expecting to sacrifice these mere foot soldiers, he gave the command to launch the fire arrows. Earlier that morning, he arrived here ahead of his force and laced the entire marsh with a compound of his own invention. It was odourless and, though gold in colour, it was very difficult to see in the half light of dawn or dusk. But it was flammable—virulently so.
As the arrows landed, the marsh exploded into a ball of flames. The few Qui soldiers who were still alive shrieked with fear and agony. Yu Guo Wei instructed their horrified comrades, those who had held back with him, to surround the flames and ready themselves. Nobody came out. Too experienced not to be suspicious, Yu Guo Wei nodded towards the other side of the pond. Shortly after, four boats paddled quietly into the centre of the lake. On each of the boats, three or four soldiers had fishing nets in their hands. It wasn't a large pond so they had almost the entire area of open water covered between them. The fire among the wet reeds petered out as it completely consumed Yu Guo Wei's compound and silence soon returned to the pond—though not for long. After a few minutes, the surface of the pond seemed to open like a gaping mouth, consuming one the boats and its occupants. The bottom of the pond now became Yang Shu’s killing floor.
Again, Yu Guo Wei smiled. He waved his finger and the men on the remaining boats discarded their nets in favour of coarse cloth sacks. Upending them into the water, a white powder poured out, covering the entire surface of pond. Yu Guo Wei knew Yang Shu had astonishing meditative abilities, so she would be able to hold her breath for a considerable amount of time. However, when she finally resurfaced, she would be weakened. She would also open her eyes immediately after breaking the surface and so the lime-like powder which he had dusted the water surface with would blind her, rendering her even more vulnerable to his killer blow.
Jumping down from his horse, he readied himself by the edge of the pond. However, nothing stirred on the water. After a long while, Yu Guo Wei began to suspect that Yang Shu drowned herself rather than suffer the humiliation of defeat. He ordered the soldiers to search the pond. They passed along some long poles and began prodding the waterbed. It was at least twenty minutes since she last had the opportunity to take a breath. Too long, Yu Guo Wei thought. However, as he turned towards his horse, readying to leave, the water behind him parted silently.
Yang Shu had realised very quickly the reeds were a trap so she dived down amongst their roots and made her way out to the centre of the pond. It was deep for its size, about four meters in the middle. She moved to that point, slowed her heartbeat and sat looking upwards. Against the brightening sky, she saw the silhouettes of the boats. One of them was leaning heavily on one end so she gently swam upwards to pull on that end. Her slight frame belied her immense strength and the end of the boat dipped just enough for it to fill with water. Like all internal kung fu grandmasters, she was an expert at manipulating objects relative to momentum and gravity and so the boat and its overweight occupants were sucked downwards. Her hand moved slowly but lethally and the capsized soldiers were soon floating back to the surface, lifelessly.
She stilled herself once again and saw the surface being covered with some kind of powder. Knowing Yu Guo Wei was an expert in turning the natural elements of the world into horrific weapons of war, she simply waited for an opening. Eventually, the soldiers up top began disturbing the water with their long poles. If a pole was about to touch her she merely shifted her position wit
h minimal expense of energy. Nevertheless, as the minutes passed, she was getting weaker. Then, as the powdered surface above her was increasingly disturbed, the opening she had been waiting for presented itself. She could see the silhouette of a small hunched man dressed in black on the edge of the pond. When he turned his back, she let herself rise.
Wrapping the chain of her mace around her right arm, she used the curved knife blade at the other end of her chain to very slowly part the surface of the water. A gap was created that her chain-wrapped arm followed through. As the mace head broke the surface, it was resting against her bicep, her arm pointing straight up and out of the water. With her body completely stretched, she circled her still submerged hips and torso and channelled that energy into the mace head. The chain uncoiled rapidly as both it and the mace were released and sent flying. From the mace head down to the sickle shaped blade, each part of the mace applied perfectly consistent forward tension on the next so that it fired straight like an arrow, parting the air, and making a minimal amount of sound.
As Yu Guo Wei, walked back to his horse, a messenger hurried towards him mentioning the words “100 Fists Majestic Wanderer”. Before he knew what was happening, Yang Shu's mace ripped into his shoulder, up the side of his head, smashing him off his feet. As he fell, he managed to turn in such a way that the mace merely glanced off his head. But his shoulder had received a brutal blow and, as he fell on his side, Yu Guo Wei saw bursts of light followed by dark blurs.
Once her arm released the mace, Yang Shu’s body followed through the same break in the water, flying from the pond onto dry land. To the soldiers standing beside the injured Yu Guo Wei, she reminded them of a crocodile, a rarely seen but deeply feared sea and river monster from the northern provinces. The nearest to her died before they could move while those around Yu Guo Wei managed to scatter, dragging their dazed general with them.