by Jin Yong
I can’t believe how long his energy stayed inside me. Guo Jing replayed the exchange in his mind, his heart pounding, his breathing unsettled by this disruption to his qi. I thought I’d balanced out his strength when I stood up with him. Somehow, his power entwined with mine, so I ended up being tipped over by the rebound of my own force. I still have a long way to go before I can control my inner power like this. The reputation of the Five Greats is fully deserved.
The awe and admiration Guo Jing felt for the monk’s kung fu was evident on his face.
Smiling, Sole Light put a hand on his shoulder. “It is already no mean feat to have cultivated the skill you have just demonstrated.”
All the while, the monk had kept hold of Lotus’s hand. He led her to a prayer mat, his face somber despite his reassuring words. “Child, don’t be scared, there’s nothing to worry about.”
His warm and sympathetic tone conveyed a tenderness Lotus had never before experienced. She knew her father doted on her, but he had always treated her as an equal, a close friend, pushing away paternal feelings and gestures because of his desire to defy social strictures. And now it was almost as if she were at last in the company of the mother she had never met.
The pain, the fear, the despairing thoughts she had desperately held at bay for the last few days burst forth with her sobs.
“Hush, my dear, hush,” Sole Light cooed. “There’s no need to cry. Uncle will make your affliction go away.” The gentler his tone, the quicker her emotional defenses crumbled and the faster her tears flowed.
Guo Jing was jubilant that Lotus could be saved, but he was also growing self-conscious and shamefaced thanks to the hostile glares of the monk’s followers, since it was only through chicanery that they had made it this far. At the same time, he could not understand why the scholar and his fellows were so resolute in preventing them from meeting this kindly monk, who seemed only too eager to help.
“My child, tell me what happened. How did you come by this injury? How did you find this place?”
Holding back her sobs, Lotus told Sole Light how she had mistaken Qiu Qianren for his martially inept twin brother and had been struck on the shoulder by his Iron Palm kung fu. She noted the little changes to monk’s countenance as she spoke, catching a fleeting frown on his otherwise peaceful face when she first mentioned the name Qiu Qianren. Then she told him how they found Madam Ying in the swamp and how she gave them directions to the temple. Sensing a gloominess settling over the monk, as if he were gripped by woes from the past, she trailed off discreetly.
“What happened next?” he said with a sigh. Relishing the chance to get even with the scholar, the farmer and the fisher, Lotus recounted in grossly exaggerated detail the unsporting means they had resorted to in their attempts to restrain and discourage them, playing up the fact that she was a harmless, injured little girl. She painted the three men in such a bad light that even Guo Jing was moved to speak up in their defense. Only the logger was spared from her barbed tongue. Instead, she showered him with excessive praise for letting them pass freely.
The scholar and the farmer flushed red in fury, then went pale from fright at her inflated accusations. They would dearly love to refute her claims, but how could they act so discourteously in front of their teacher and liege? They had no choice but to suffer the indignity in silence.
To add insult to injury, Sole Light nodded in earnest at each of her denouncements. “How could we treat guests like this? You’re right, they’ve been most rude. I will make sure they apologize to you in person.”
Puffed up with triumph, Lotus swept her eyes over the scholar and the farmer as she continued her tale of how they strove to thwart them even once they had won entry to the temple. “And then I asked them to show you the drawing. Only then did they stop being truculent and allow us to receive your invitation.”
“What drawing?” Sole Light sounded surprised.
“The one with the hawk, the dove and the flayed man.”
“Whom did you give it to?”
The scholar took the piece of paper from his inside shirt pocket and offered it with both hands. “I have yet to present it, because Shifu was deep in meditation.”
Sole Light gave Lotus a conspiratorial smile. “See, if you hadn’t told me about this picture, I would have never got to see it.” He unfolded the paper and understood at once. “Whoever gave you this thought I would refuse to help you and sent it to goad me. Well, they’ve underestimated this old monk!”
Lotus caught a strong whiff of panic emanating from the scholar and the farmer. Why do they act like I’m taking away everything they hold dear? she mused. All he said was that he would help. Maybe it will take some precious herbs to cure me and they don’t want to part with them?
Sole Light lifted the drawing to the light to examine it, then flicked it with a finger, a quizzical expression on his face.
“Did Madam Ying draw this?”
“Yes.”
The monk thought about her answer. “Did you witness her drawing it with your own eyes?”
Sensing that something was amiss, Lotus replayed the whole encounter in her head. “She had her back to us. I could see her brush move, but I couldn’t see what she was putting down.”
“You said she gave you three notes. Do you mind showing me the other two?”
Guo Jing removed them from his pocket.
One glance and a shadow crept over Sole Light’s face. “Just as I thought,” he said under his breath as he put the messages into Lotus’s hands. “Brother Apothecary is a connoisseur of painting and calligraphy. I am sure he has passed his wisdom on to you. What differences can you discern between the three of them?”
Lotus ran her fingers over the notes. “These two are standard semi-processed jade plaque Xuan paper. The drawing is done on an antique silk paper. Mmm … that’s a rare material.”
The monk nodded. “I am no authority on the art of the brush. Tell me your opinion of the draftsmanship.”
“Uncle, stop pretending,” she said, after assessing the drawing with more care than before. “One glimpse was enough to tell you this wasn’t painted by Madam Ying.”
“So it really wasn’t painted by her?” he asked with a slight quaver in his voice. “I made that deduction from the circumstances, not from any hint in the drawing.”
Lotus took the monk’s arm and patiently explained. “Look here, Uncle. The handwriting in these two notes. Soft, graceful, feminine. Now, look at the lines in the picture. Lean and hard, aren’t they? The brush must have been wielded by a man. I know it. This is a man’s hand, beyond doubt. He is unschooled in the art of calligraphy. He knows nothing about structuring strokes or controlling the brush, but there’s a weighty, penetrating strength to his touch. It’s reached all the way through the paper … The tint of the ink shows its vintage … This drawing was done a long time ago—it’s probably older than me.”
Sole Light turned to the scholar and indicated a bound volume on a small bamboo table. An elongated yellow label ran down the cover:
Sutralamkara Sastra
by the Bodhisattva Asvaghosha
Translated by Kumarajiva of the
Kingdom of Kucha, Master of Tripitaka
I hope he isn’t going to start lecturing us on Buddhist scriptures, Lotus thought wearily.
The scholar brought the book over with great reverence. Sole Light turned a leaf and put the drawing next to it.
“The same!” Lotus gasped.
The monk nodded.
“What’s the same?” Guo Jing whispered.
“The paper,” Lotus said. “Feel the texture. Aren’t they exactly alike?”
He could now see that the picture was sketched on paper as thick and stiff as the pages of the volume of Buddhist scriptures, and on closer inspection it was clear they shared a similar coarse surface, with flaxen strands running through it.
“Is this unusual?” Guo Jing asked Lotus, but she said nothing, so he turned to Reverend Sole Light.
“My
brother-in-faith brought me this book from the Western Regions.” At this, Guo Jing and Lotus took note of the other monk for the first time. He had not shifted position at all, and was still sitting cross-legged on the prayer mat, undisturbed by the conversation. “This scripture is written on paper from that part of the world, and this image is drawn on the same kind of paper. Have you heard of a place called White Camel Mount, out in the west?”
“Viper Ouyang, Venom of the West!” Lotus exclaimed.
Sole Light moved his head slowly in affirmation. “This picture came from his very hand.”
Even Lotus was dumbstruck by the revelation.
“That far-sighted man put this plan in motion a long time ago.” A faint smile drifted across the monk’s features.
“I didn’t realize this was painted by the Venom,” Lotus said with disquiet in her voice. “This can only be villainy, Uncle.”
“All this for a mere martial manual.”
“So this is about the Nine Yin Manual too?” Agitation brought an unnatural high color to Lotus’s cheeks.
She had been holding herself together with what little inner strength was left in her body for the past few hours and Sole Light could see that she was now on the point of collapse. “Let’s get you better first. We can talk later.” He took her by the arm and guided her toward a small side chamber.
“Shifu! Let us!” The scholar and the farmer groveled at their Master’s feet, blocking his way.
The monk shook his head. “Can you heal her?”
“We’ll try out best.”
“Try?” Sole Light’s face darkened. “This is a matter of life and death.”
“They are here on the instructions of one with evil intent! They couldn’t possibly mean you well, Shifu!” The scholar could not hold back any longer. “You can’t let charity and compassion lead you into a trap.”
“What have I been teaching you all these years? Here, take a good look.” He handed the scholar the drawing.
“Shifu, you said this was painted by the Venom of the West. Surely, their coming here is part of his infernal plot!” The farmer kowtowed, anxious tears staining his face.
Guo Jing and Lotus were flummoxed. What harm could come from healing someone?
“Stand up. You’re distressing our guests.” Sole Light’s soft voice conveyed absolute authority.
Unable to dissuade their mentor, the scholar and the farmer shuffled to their feet, heads hung low in dejection.
3
Reverend Sole Light led Lotus into the side chamber and beckoned Guo Jing over to join them. The small room was austere: three prayer cushions and a censer sitting on a squat table made of bamboo. The monk let down the blind over the doors—which was also of bamboo—and lit a stick of incense, planting it upright in the burner. He invited Lotus to take the mat in the middle and sat down cross-legged on the one to the right.
“Guard the entrance. Don’t let anyone in. Not even my disciples.” The monk closed his eyes to help him focus, but something drove him to part his eyelids again. “If they try to force their way in, fight back. Your martial sister’s life depends on it.”
“Yes, Uncle.” The monk’s solemn tone nagged at Guo Jing, though he could hardly imagine such defiance from Sole Light’s followers, who had displayed nothing but utmost veneration and obedience in their Master’s presence.
Sole Light then said to Lotus, “Do not let your body tense up at any point. Be it agonizing pain or unbearable itch, do not resist with your qi.”
“I’ll consider myself dead,” Lotus said with a laugh.
The monk smiled, lowered his eyes and relaxed his brow. In this meditative state, he allowed his energy to course around his body.
An inch of the incense had turned to smoke. Sole Light touched his left hand over his chest and sprang to his feet. Reaching out slowly with the index finger of his right hand, he tapped the Hundred Convergences acupressure point at the crown of Lotus’s head.
Her body spasmed at the contact, but Lotus was only aware of the warmth seeping through the top of her skull.
Without adjusting his stance, the monk prodded the pressure point an inch and a half lower, Rear Vertex, at the back of her head. At once, he moved on to the point below, Unyielding Space, then Brain’s Door, Wind Mansion, Great Hammer, Kiln Path, Body Pillar, Path of Life Force, Spirit Tower …
In the time it took for half the incense to burn away, Sole Light had activated all thirty points that made up the Governing Vessel along Lotus’s spine.
The astounding display left Guo Jing spellbound, his jaw hanging low. When Sole Light reached out, he was the embodiment of leisurely ease, yet as he withdrew his arm, he became a whirlwind of swift elegance. For each of the thirty acupressure points, he employed a different technique. Structured, expansive, full of character—no two moves were the same. Guo Jing could see nothing in common with the skills taught to him by the Six Freaks of the South, and, more surprisingly, he could not even find any similarity with the methods described in the passages entitled “On Locking Pressure Points” in the Nine Yin Manual. He realized he had been given the privilege to behold Yang in Ascendance in action, the kung fu that had established the King of the South’s reputation, but he had no idea that Sole Light was pouring his own strength, accrued over a lifetime of training, into Lotus to reconnect the inner energy flow in her Eight Extraordinary Meridians.
The monk had Guo Jing change the incense and took the chance to sit down for a short rest. When he sprang into action again, his movements were lightning fast and marked by mesmerizing precision.
Guo Jing’s eyes were not keen enough to discern the finger that was flitting between the pressure points, for it was as lithe and agile as a dragonfly dipping its tail in a pond. All he could make out were the tremors in the arm that preceded the actual prod.
One single exchange of breath and it was done. Twenty-five acupoints along the Conception Vessel, from the chin to the sternum in a straight line down Lotus’s torso.
Guo Jing was awestruck.
Presently, Sole Light moved on to the fourteen points of the Yin Link Meridian, which ran from the inside of the right calf, along the leg and the right flank, terminating at the throat. Now he swooped like the dragon and prowled like the tiger, full of might and spirit. The religious garb could not mask the carriage of a king.
The monk continued, without taking a break, on to the thirty-two points of the Yang Link Meridian, which began on the outside of the left ankle, tracing the left side of the body, all the way to the head. This time, he stood one zhang away from Lotus, then, in a flash, whizzed up close to nudge the Wind Pool pressure point on her neck, just behind the ear. The instant Sole Light made contact, he zipped away as briskly as he had zoomed forward.
What a marvelous technique! Guo Jing was absorbing all he could. With deft footwork like this, one could spring on an opponent then sprint away speedily enough to keep out of harm’s way.
He feasted his eyes on the swerves and swings that Sole Light employed to swoop in and out, and soon gleaned that the real difficulty lay in falling back with the same acrobatic lightness as darting forward—like the way a hare would shoot away from a predator. He was reminded of his fight with Madam Ying. Her slipperiness shared the same roots as what Sole Light was demonstrating, though her execution fell far short of his.
Two more sticks of incense later, Sole Light had triggered the acupressure points on the meridians of Yin Heel and Yang Heel, which ran alongside Yin Link and Yang Link.
The monk now reached for the Great Bone point on Lotus’s left shoulder and a line from the Nine Yin Manual came into Guo Jing’s head.
How thick can I be? he chided himself. Of course it’s described in the Manual! It’s just that I’m too brainless to connect words with motion!
He went over the relevant portions of the martial tract in his head and noticed aspects that matched what he was seeing. He began to grasp that, while the Manual outlined the fundamentals, Sole Light was illu
strating the infinite variations, interpretations and mysteries hidden between the lines.
Of course, Guo Jing would not dream of attempting to learn Yang in Ascendance without express approval from the Master himself. He focused instead on the insights into the Nine Yin Manual he could glean. A picture began to form in his head of what happened when a person trained in internal kung fu was injured: the meridians in their body became blocked, which meant the flow of their life energy was disrupted. When he was injured by Viper Ouyang’s Explosive Toad kung fu at the Imperial Palace in Lin’an, he could rally his strength through the healing method in the Manual because he was hardy enough to propel his qi—with Lotus’s inner force as guidance—around every available path and acupressure point within his body to restore his circulation. But Lotus had been caught off guard by Qiu Qianren and her strength was too depleted to allow her to perform this act of self-preservation.
Now he registered what Sole Light was doing. The monk was injecting his own store of neigong—a purely external energy—to reconnect the rivers of Lotus’s life force.
There was only one meridian left to go, the Belt Vessel. Unlike the others, which guide the flow of qi along the length of the body, the Belt Vessel, as its name suggests, encircles the waist.
This time, instead of facing Lotus, Sole Light had his back to her, his arm twisted behind him. His finger crept ponderously toward her Camphorwood Gate, at the base of the right side of her ribcage.
There were eight acupoints on this channel, but the monk seemed to be straining to reach them. His movements were labored, his breathing ragged, his body trembling—he was on the brink of collapse.
Guo Jing was desperate to do something, to steady the monk, but what if he ruined everything? Sweat was now streaming from Sole Light’s eyebrows. Lotus was also drenched in perspiration. She looked like she was trying to keep the torment inside her body from getting the better of her, her features were screwed up, her teeth clamped down on her lower lip.
4
“Shifu!” The bamboo blind was smacked aside.