EARTHLY DRAGON, SOARING PALM

by Derek Dorris

  Bai Feng walked as far as he could until he dropped. Tu Ling sent Liao Quan off to catch some food while she tended to Bai Feng. When she was sure they were alone, she placed a tender hand on his forehead. “Thank you for what you did back there.”

  “I'll take all sorts of beatings for you,” Bai Feng smiled wanly but with enough mischief in his voice to reassure her.

  “No, you better not. I like your face how it is... well how it was.” She giggled as she nudged him.

  Over the next couple of days, two continued to joke and laugh as they made their way out of the southern river and lakelands and back into the central plains. Recovered and quite smitten, Bai Feng was more content than he could remember. Tu Ling felt similarly and she was even growing rather fond of Liao Quan, having gotten used to his constant interruptions, his attention-seeking, and his all-round craziness. Skirting the foot of the southern mountains to cross into the central plains they stopped often to rest and enjoy the scenery. None of them felt overly rushed despite the unfolding situation at Gongsum. They made for a content group.

  On one particular evening as they sat around the fire and chatted, they allowed the night to overtake them and decided to stay where they were until dawn. However, it seemed that their journey was not to be blessed with much peace for in the middle of the night sinister sounds began to drift down the mountain—sounds that moved unerringly towards them. Slightly melodic, slightly ghostly, the noises came and went in one slithery sensation. As they came at them for a second time, Bai Feng and Tu Ling realised they were in fact voices. Voices that seemed to snake right up to them and tap them on the shoulder.

  “Liao Quan, we've found you,” they said.

  Tu Ling's soul shrieked danger. Bai Feng jumped up and looked over at his friend only to see panic in the old man's eyes. He had never seen Liao Quan afraid of anything. “What is it First Brother?”

  “It's them!” Liao Quan said with a quiver. “It's those two bastards. I've been evading them for years.”

  Tu Ling and Bai Feng felt the hair rising on the back of their necks. Who could scare someone of Liao Quan's power?

  Not one to worry about his reputation, Liao Quan's instinct was to flee there and then. Yet he didn't want to leave his friends behind. He had only known Bai Feng and Tu Ling for a short time but they were the only people who had ever treated him nicely without any consideration for his martial reputation. He wasn't about to leave them here to deal with a threat this severe.

  “Feng'er,” he whispered quickly. “There are two grandmasters coming this way. They are the Heavenly Tailor Golden Needle and the Heavenly Seamstress Silken Thread. They are brother and sister by blood but have also taken each other as husband and wife. They are abominations of the martial world and the most evil people alive.”

  Bai Feng was struck by the total lack of humour in Liao Quan's voice. He had never known him to be completely serious about anything. But the more he heard about these freaks, the more he understood Liao Quan's sincerity.

  “There's no time to go into their story in more detail. Suffice to say, they have been my black star for the last fifty years. You are quite skilled and Sister Ling has an admirable level of kung fu so perhaps the three of us together can hold them off the for a time. However, the first opportunity for escape, we take it… together! Don't for a minute think about separating or they'll slaughter each of us one by one. If we get a chance, head for the mountains to the south. We'll do better in the hills and trees than we will on the plains against these two monsters.”

  Tu Ling wanted to ask more questions only there was no time. Liao Quan removed the stick from his back and held it by his side. It was the first time, Bai Feng had seen him even touch it.

  The trio stared toward the darkness enshrouded trees waiting for the owners of the unnerving voices to come into sight. After what seemed like an age, two figures became slowly visible. Impeccably dressed in flamboyantly coloured gowns, the Heavenly Tailor, Wen Weisheng, and the Heavenly Seamstress, Wen Zhu, emerged from the forest’s blackness. With sickly sweet grins, the two appeared to be no older than fifty but Bai Feng was getting used to grandmasters looking younger than their years. Only Wong Shi Hong's life of hard drinking and wandering had the etched his actual years into his face.

  However, as Bai Feng peered at the faces before him, he shivered uncontrollably. Their skin seemed stretched and slightly lifeless while their eyes shone with an alluring grace. And you didn't have to look too far behind them to detect the pure malevolence Liao Quan was so afraid of.

  Years earlier, the two siblings had emerged to replace the recently separated Fu Xiaoli and Tao Huiqing as the world’s most fearsome martial couple. However, whereas the older couple fought mainly on individual terms, these two never operated alone. Having grown up together and shared everything there was to share in their adult life, their mutual understanding was as near to telepathic as you could get. They attacked and defended as one unit, making it extraordinarily difficult for their opponents. Obsessed with sewing and cloth-making, their use of needles in combat was also unrivalled. Not only did they wield them as projectiles but they even used them in their hand to hand combat. Each punch or palm strike was delivered with a simultaneous needle strike. They could riddle a person with a hundred pin strikes in a matter of seconds. The speed of their hands was why they alone in the martial world could keep up with Liao Quan's Lightning Arms and, why combined, they could overcome that style.

  Yet it wasn't their power that unsettled the Old Fool. It was their proclivities. Something even he couldn't reconcile in that inexplicable head of his. After a strange childhood, the siblings had emerged into adolescence and adulthood as obsessed with each other as they were with clothes-making. A perverse relationship between both compulsions evolved. Infatuated with each other but not wanting to lie with their own flesh and blood, they began to experiment on their victims’ skin, sewing all kinds of garments and accessories that afforded them the sense of personal contact while preventing it in actuality. Making and wearing these “garments” grew into an act of sexuality in itself—a fetishistic dissolution of personality that manifested in anemic morality and sensual cruelty towards their victims. And it was the Old Fool who came upon their most disturbing endeavour.

  With such memories alight in his mind, he watched the siblings descend from the wooded darkness and address themselves to the group.

  “So interesting to see you again Brother Quan,” they said in unison. They often spoke simultaneously and it served to increase the disquiet in those who were unlucky enough to cross their path. “Word of your recent actions reached us,” they continued, “and we still owe you a debt. We've come to pay it. I wonder does Old Lightning Palms wish to exchange a few stances with us.”

  “Why not fight him one-on-one, you cowardly freaks?” Bai Feng exploded uncharacteristically. “Then we'll see how scary you are.”

  Their menacing eyes never left Liao Quan as if Bai Feng hadn't spoken. Although, when they finally noticed both Bai Feng and Tu Ling, the siblings’ souls were stirred. They glanced at each other and smiled.

  Liao Quan knew what the siblings were thinking when they looked covetously at the two youngsters and couldn't bear it. He moved quickly, shouting wildly as he went, “Feng’er, take the Seamstress—leave the Tailor to me.”

  The two old men collided in mid air and, as Wen Zhu attacked Liao Quan's flank, Bai Feng suppressed any discomfort regarding their appearance and unleashed the Silver Fire Form in all its glory. From behind her disturbing mask, Wen Zhu was slightly taken aback and readjusted her stance to contend with this young hero fierce attacking style.

  On seeing Bai Feng throw himself in harm’s way, Tu Ling was more fearful than she had ever been. She had never having fought anyone more skilled than her Jade Tiger master yet here she was in the middle of a momentous battle involving three of the great masters of her time. And those faces, she thought, those dead faces. Reluctantly, she retrieved a dagger from her gown an
d inched in the direction of the fight.

  Having defended against a series of circular strikes—which at the last minute turned straight—a light suddenly flashed in the Heavenly Seamstress’ mind. “You're a disciple of Silver Phoenix!” she blurted in a manner that betrayed her typically eerie calm.

  Bai Feng had never known Yang Shu but had been deeply moved by her poetry and unconsciously assimilated her style. Although he never bowed in front of her, he felt she was as close to a martial master as his uncles on Earthly Mountain had been. Thus, every time he used her style, he decided he would be fighting for her honour. If for no other reason, he knew this would please Wong Shi Hong but also he felt he owed it to Yang Shu’s spirit. “Yes,” he said proudly. “And now freak, give up this attack, or I'll be forced to show you the full extent of her Silver Fire Form.”

  Though Bai Feng was nowhere near as practiced as Yang Shu was in the Silver Fire Form, he was becoming more and more familiar with it. More importantly, his mind was normally pure and unhindered. This allowed for a more fluid execution of the moves than even the Silver Phoenix could manage, not to mention, a clearer understanding. He wasn't as quick as she was but he used the style more intuitively. This allowed him to attack with danger. Yet he was wary of the trouble he experienced against Zheng Hui, Liu Ru, and Ruan Bolin. How the use of this form encouraged him to fall back on his internal power. As such, he placed an added emphasis on avoiding that pitfall.

  However, the Heavenly Seamstress was exceptional and like Yu Guo Wei did before her, it wasn't long before she spotted the flaw in his skill. The Silver Fire form required internal strength to fuel its attacks. If he held it back, they lost much of their subtle sophistication. Less afraid of the strikes, she reduced the distance between them and began to threaten his inner gate with a series of probing needle punches. At the right moment, she attacked with all her power. However, the last thing she expected was a dagger flying towards her face. It seemed the young girl had joined in the affray and was proving herself more than capable. Again, Wen Zhu was put on the back foot.

  A few metres away, Wen Weisheng had his hands full with Liao Quan. “Ha-ha!” the old lunatic shouted. “You're not much on your own are you?” Of course, Liao Quan was just trying to chip into Wen Weisheng's icy composure for the Heavenly Tailor was more than keeping up. Of all the Ten Greats, Wen Weisheng was the closest in style to Liao Quan. Both relied on quick hands with subtle movements rather than strength and power. Their four hands flew high and low, left and right. Liao Quan attacked with palms and fists, Wen Weisheng with a variation of the Phoenix Punch where the knuckle of the index finger protrudes in a point past the rest. Keeping a needle between his index and thumb, it would prick his opponent as he punched yet he would also intermittently open his palm and attack exclusively with the needle. If need be, he could also project it, with godlike accuracy. His “Golden Needle Style” was replete with all sorts of ingenious changes.

  The two were dancing all over the clearing, kicking off branches, spinning into attacks and defences alike. Over his shoulder, Liao Quan heard Tu Ling cheer.

  She had been trying her best to keep up with Bai Feng and Wen Zhu but found she was quickly out of her depth. Instead she used her wits and brought up the one subject Wen Zhu would despise her for. “Bai Feng,” she said, “don't let her get too close. If you do, just remind her that you're not related to her and she'll lose interest.”

  “What did you say?” Wen Zhu hissed, the expression on her mask shifting strangely as her lips behind it moved violently.

  “You heard me, you depraved deviant!”

  Bai Feng heard none of this. He had switched back to his Earthly Dragon Style and was once again totally focused, immersed in the contest—relishing it. This was nothing like his confrontation with Yi Jin. His mind was clear as an azure sky; nothing threatened his calm—not even his opponent's sinister appearance. The Heavenly Seamstress was so good, he felt gratified to even receive her strikes. When Tu Ling managed to catch her attention, Bai Feng saw an opening and transitioned into another Silver Fire attack. Two quick outwardly circular movements angled straight and inwards to strike her neck with the inside of his arms. Wen Zhu was driven backwards with furious momentum as Tu Ling cheered Bai Feng.

  This was more than Liao Quan was hoping for. He knew Bai Feng was gifted beyond his years but he honestly didn't believe the young man would be able to compete with Wen Zhu. However, the ferocity of his attack demonstrated a mystifying level of inner strength that up until now Bai Feng hadn't revealed—at least not while he was fighting. Encouraged by the way things were going, the Old Fool increased the pace of his own attacks on Wen Weisheng. “Ha-ha-ha, your sister-wife has taken a fall. Even my kid brother can beat her.”

  Bai Feng didn't wait for any cheers or support. He moved straight for the downed seamstress. She was a problem and no matter how much he respected her skills, she needed to be eliminated. But as he approached, he was caught completely by surprise. Out of nowhere a thin, extraordinarily long silken rope encircled his leg and torso. With a deafening snap, it flicked him sideways into the underbrush. Tu Ling saw Wen Zhu leap back to her feet like a carp and flick her long whip in one unbroken movement. Witnessing her notoriously vicious “Silken Thread Style”, Tu Ling was struck in the side but just evaded being lassoed by the whip. Wen Zhu didn't waste any time. With both Bai Feng and Tu Ling out of the equation, she converged on Liao Quan.

  Within seconds of Wen Zhu joining the fight, Liao Quan was in trouble. He had removed his staff and left it on the ground, not intending to wield it but because, strapped to his back, it was something a top opponent could use to control him. But now, he needed it as a weapon. He flipped, rolled, and collected it in one movement. From that point on, the fight evened up as Liao Quan used the two ends of the staff to attack the siblings almost simultaneously. Held horizontal in front of his chest it also provided a nice defence against attacks to his midline. The world had never before seen this artform. Invented by the Old Fool himself in the depths of the wilderness twenty years earlier, it was twice as lethal as the sword because either end of the weapon could deliver fatal attacks. Yet, like most of the Greats, he had never needed to use his weapon before. This was the first time he wielded it in combat. The siblings found themselves repeatedly struck in the ribs, chest, back, and head in an ever changing, undiscerning sequence. Rapid shots striking deeply with either end of the stick interchanging with battering blows delivered up and down its length. When Wen Weisheng attempted to strike, Liao Quan would circle the staff towards him in a block only to continue that circling movement into a swiping attack on his sister. It was an extraordinary demonstration of weaponry that had the siblings confounded—if only for a moment.

  The sole disadvantage to the staff is that required Liao Quan to be comparatively closer to his opponents than the siblings’ long-distance weapons. Thus, it wasn't long before they fell back to take advantage of that. Once again, the old maniac was in trouble.

  Bai Feng picked himself up and scurried over to Tu Ling. She was holding her side which was badly stinging. He scanned his surroundings quickly and saw a group of rather large rocks sitting loosely above him on a small cliff. He grabbed Tu Ling and utilising his internal strength, sprang over the rocks, shouting for Liao Quan to follow. Liao Quan immediately realised what he was doing and followed. As the Old Fool passed over the rocks, he threw out a single deft kick and dislodged them.

  The landslide was more severe than everyone expected, sending the pursuing duo jumping for cover. Over a hill and down a sharp slope, the three escapees were soon out of danger.

  * * *

  “Feng’er, you performed a lot better than I expected. We may have a chance against these two,” Liao Quan said, as if he had just come back from a light jog.

  Bai Feng and Tu Ling were panting with utter exhaustion. “What do you mean? We barely escaped them. Why would we fight them again?” asked Bai Feng.

  “They won't give up,” ans
wered Liao Quan with a serious expression that didn't seem to belong on his face. “They never do. They're relentless and unforgiving. All we've managed to do is harden their resolve.

  “But I've an idea,” he continued. “Let's find somewhere secluded up ahead and I'll pass my kung fu to you.”

  “What?”

  “Feng’er, your base kung fu is clearly soft in nature but at the moment, you're primarily using Silver Phoenix’s fighting skill and that's not very compatible with the soft styles. It's too dependent on strong emotions and the internal strength they stir up. But my own kung fu is a far closer match to the way your mind naturally works. It'll allow you to fight without using any internal strength and so last longer against that couple of perverts. If we can survive three or four more contests with them, I'm sure I can raise your fighting ability to the point that you and I can match them. With Ling’er helping us, we might even prevail.”

  Bai Feng wasn't used to hearing Liao Quan speak so coherently yet what he was saying still sounded crazy. Then again, who was he to argue with a grandmaster of Liao Quan's status?

  The trio moved further into the mountains and Liao Quan began to explain as they walked. “Feng’er,” he said stroking his bushy blue beard as if trying to appear more learned. “My style is based on blinding speed. There's power in my punches but little of it comes from my muscles. But nor does it come from my internal energy. It comes from technique, timing, and good old fashioned bone structure,” he laughed as he pinched Bai Feng's elbow and clavicle.