by Jin Yong
“Brother Hao, shall we?” Liu Chuxuan said.
“Marvelous!” Hao Datong hefted his blade and charged with his martial brother. Arrows buzzed in the mist, like swarming locusts. The Taoists beat them back with their swords.
Soon, the rest of the group found themselves on the main road. The heavens opened, tipping down buckets of water amid wild flashes of lightning and continuous cracks of thunder, washing the fog away in a trice. Still, with the moon blanketed by layers of clouds, the night was dark and everything was an indistinct blur.
“The danger has passed, fare thee well.” With those words, Ke Zhen’e shoved the cane into Lotus’s hand and limped eastward.
“Shifu!” Guo Jing called.
“Take Great Hero Hong to a safe place to rest, then come and find me at Ke Village.”
“Yes, Master!”
Apothecary Huang plucked a stray arrow from the air and approached Ke Zhen’e. “I did not intend to spell it out, but, since you saved my life today—”
The Freak spat in the Heretic’s face. “This day will be the reason I can’t face my six siblings when I die!”
Apothecary Huang had bent low to speak to Ke Zhen’e, so their faces were less than a foot apart. Despite his extraordinary reflexes, he was caught out and the spittle skimmed across his cheek. He raised his hand, ready to strike the offender dead.
Guo Jing had been keeping an eye on his shifu, but, from a distance of twenty paces, all he could do was watch the exchange turn sour—he ran, knowing he would never make it in time, that he was about to witness the death of yet another of his teachers, but the next thing he heard was a dry chuckle.
“How could a man of my status behave like one of your ilk?” Apothecary Huang let his arm sink slowly and wiped the spit away with his sleeve. “Let’s go, Lotus.”
The Heretic’s words and tone gnawed at Guo Jing, giving him pause. He could feel in his gut that something did not quite fit, but the notion in his head was so muddy and undefined that he could not say what it was he was unsure about. Before he could untangle this mystery, a scud of thick mist enveloped him and war cries could once more be heard. The Quanzhen monks raised their swords and charged at a squad of soldiers storming their way.
Apothecary Huang had no interest in tussling with lowly conscripts. “Brother Seven, why don’t we find a tavern where we might enjoy a few drinks?”
“Perfect!” It was just the thing the Beggar had been craving, so the two Martial Greats disappeared into the gloom, arm in arm.
Guo Jing was a few steps away from Ke Zhen’e when a small band of soldiers rushed into him, separating him from his mentor. Never one to wish harm upon another, he used minimal force to repel them, but they turned out to be tougher than he had anticipated, for Jurchen soldiers and Iron Palm Gang members had been embedded into the ranks of the Song army.
“First Shifu! First Shifu! Where are you?” he cried, afraid that his teacher, without his sight or his weapon, would be hurt in the chaos, but he could not make out his Master’s voice in the din, only the Quanzhen Taoists calling to each other amid the cacophony of battle.
* * *
LOTUS WAS standing close to Ke Zhen’e when her father approached him. She had followed their exchange with cautious optimism, but, in the blink of an eye, her heart was crushed and trampled. The Freak had not merely spat at her father, he had spat on all her hopes and dreams, and her one chance of finding happiness.
Numbed, she stood fixed to the spot, unaware of the men and horses tearing around her, until a cry of aiyoo! brought her back to the present.
She knew that voice. Ke Zhen’e.
She peered through the louring half-light to see an officer chopping his saber at the blind man from behind.
Ke rolled away, straightened up and threw a punch. He knocked the man over, but, when he pushed himself onto his feet, he fell back down. Lotus was much closer now. She could see something sticking out of his thigh. An arrow. She seized his arm and hauled him up. He flung her helping hand away, but the bolt was lodged in his good leg and he could not support himself on the lame one. He swayed and fell.
“Don’t play the hero.” Lotus caught him by the back of his collar and flicked at the True Shoulder pressure point above his right armpit with her Orchid Torch. Then she let go and grabbed him in a slightly more dignified manner, by the left arm. Ke desperately wished he could free himself from her grasp, but, having lost command of half his body, he could not resist her assistance, so he settled for demonstrating his displeasure with a mouthful of vulgarities.
Lotus half dragged, half carried Ke Zhen’e a dozen paces to a nearby tree, which provided some meager protection from the chaos around them. But, before she could catch her breath, they were spotted by soldiers and a shower of arrows rained down. Lotus stood in front of Ke Zhen’e and flourished the Dog Beater to protect her face.
“Leave me. Save yourself!” Ke grunted, grappling with the fact that she was shielding him with her body. Then he heard the arrows glancing off the Hedgehog Chainmail before clattering to the ground.
Lotus snorted at the old man’s sentimental plea. “I won’t desert you. I’ll make sure you owe me your life. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
She hauled him over to a low wall that would shelter him from the archers. Once they had traversed the short distance, she slumped against the barrier, panting hard, her heart hammering. Ke Zhen’e was a heavy load.
“Let any feud between us be crossed off.” Ke heaved a sigh. “Go on your way! Consider this blind man dead.”
“How am I supposed to consider you dead when you’re very much alive? You can choose not to seek revenge from me, but I’m going to hound you for retribution.” As she spoke, she thrust the Dog Beater at the Bend Middle acupoint behind each knee.
Ke cursed himself for letting his guard down against the she-demon, as he flopped helplessly onto his backside. As he berated himself, picturing the horrendous ways in which she would torment him, he picked out the sound of her nimble feet as she skirted around the wall, hurrying away from him.
The roar of battle was growing faint and distant. The Quanzhen monks must have scattered the troops, unwittingly chasing them away from Ke’s hiding place. He thought he could hear Guo Jing calling his name, but his disciple was also moving farther and farther from him. He wanted to respond, but all his strength had been drained by the night’s exertions, and he was further weakened by the injury he had just suffered. He could not summon the qi to project his voice far enough to reach Guo Jing’s ears above the tumult.
Before long, silence returned. No more soldiers. No more fighting. A cock crowed in the distance and another replied, the heralds of dawn crying out.
On the morrow, the cocks will still crow in Jiaxing, Ke Zhen’e said to himself, but this life of mine will have been snuffed out by that she-demon. Never again will I hear the call of a new day.
Footsteps interrupted his morbid thoughts. Three people. One light and fleet. Lotus. The other two … their feet thumped heavily and dragged on the ground before each new step. Untrained.
“Here he is. Lift him up. Quickly!”
Lotus was standing right over him as she spoke those words. Then he felt her hand kneading his flesh as movement and control returned to his body—the binds on his pressure points removed. Immediately, he was taken by the shoulders and legs, lifted up and placed on a stretcher. Bamboo, he noted. A little jostling. The heavy-footed men lumbered forward.
What’s going on? The question whirled in Ke Zhen’e’s mind, but he knew better than to invite another tongue-lashing from the girl. Thwack! The bearer at the front yelped in pain. Did she just cane him?
“What was that mumbling?” Her tone was pure menace. “Faster! I know what you soldiers are like. You fleece the common people. Not a single one of you has a shred of decency.” Thwack! The man at the back this time, but he had learned from his comrade’s mistake and he swallowed his groan.
Now Ke was beginnin
g to wrap his mind around what was going on. She had captured two soldiers to carry him. Only this little witch could have come up with such a plan. The pain in his leg was getting worse. He could feel the arrowhead scraping and digging in deeper as the men carried him along the increasingly rugged path. He clenched his jaw and gritted his teeth. He would not give her any excuse to turn that barbed tongue of hers on him.
Soon, branches and leaves began to brush against his face and body. They were in a forest now. The men staggered and stumbled their way forward in fear of the cane, wheezing, huffing, out of breath.
Ke Zhen’e reckoned that they must have covered around thirty li and that it must be around midday by now, for his clothes were almost baked dry by the sun after being drenched by the predawn downpour. He could hear the tireless chirping of cicadas and the occasional barking dog. There was also singing, men and women conversing in song across the fields. This pastoral harmony was worlds away from the clash and clamor of the battle on South Lake just hours before.
They stopped, and he was lifted onto a bench. He could hear Lotus asking for two pumpkins and some rice, and then she disappeared for some time. They must have found a farmhouse they could rest in. When she came back, she set a steaming bowl down beside him.
“I’m not hungry,” he croaked.
“I know your leg hurts, but I’m not going to help you just yet. I want you to suffer a bit longer.”
He grabbed the bowl and splashed its contents at her. Snickers and shrieks. She must have skipped away, only for the scalding congee to catch one of the soldiers instead.
“Stop that racket! Master Ke has gifted you lunch! Lick it up.”
Cowed by the girl’s cane, the man threw himself down and picked up pumpkin pieces from the ground, stuffing them into his mouth. His face was stinging from the hot liquid, but it had been a day since his last meal.
Ke Zhen’e felt remorse. His rage had ended up hurting and humiliating an innocent man. The arrow was still embedded in his thigh and the wound would need tending soon. He felt around the shaft. He could pluck it out, but what if he could not stem the flow of blood? It went without saying that she would stand by and watch him bleed dry with relish, most likely mocking him as he faded away. As he debated what to do, he heard her say:
“Get me a basin of water. Double quick!”
Smack. The unmistakable sound of a box on the ear. Her orders were always underlined by a physical threat, he noted.
“Take the knife. Cut the fabric around the wound.” He sensed the leg of his trousers being sliced open.
“I’ll warn you now, old codger, I can’t stomach screaming. If you’re a proper man, you’ll be able to handle this.”
Before Ke Zhen’e could retort, a searing pain shot from the wound. She had jammed the bolt deeper into his leg. He threw a punch at her as a second shock of pain rocked him.
“If you move again, I’ll cuff you too!”
He knew the she-demon was not making an empty threat. He could not bear to suffer the shame of being slapped at death’s door. No, he would not allow himself to be so debased. For now, he would keep his face stony and submit to her—he knew he was no match for her in his current state. He only hoped she would finish him off with one clean blow.
The next thing he heard was the ripping of fabric. Was she making bandages? Confirmation came when a strip of cloth was bound tight around his thigh above the lesion, then another above his knee but below the gash. Very soon, it was no longer warm blood he felt trickling down his skin but something fresh and cooling. She was rinsing the wound.
Ke was perplexed. Why would she do this when she wants me dead? She can’t mean well, not where I am concerned, not when she’s the spawn of that bastard. How can either of them ever do any good? This must be one of her infernal schemes—she’s always plotting.
The Freak tried to persuade himself that she was sowing evil as she applied a curative for blade cuts and bandaged his leg. Before long, the wound had stopped throbbing and much of the pain had eased. His stomach groaned loudly.
“What’s that noise coming from your belly? Didn’t you say you weren’t hungry? Well, there’s nothing left now.” Pak, pak. “Move!” She rapped the soldiers over the head with the cane and, instantly, he was lifted onto the stretcher and carried off.
* * *
THEY TRUNDLED on for another thirty or forty li. Ke Zhen’e reckoned that it must be dusk, for he could hear crows squawking and croaking. But wait … He listened; this was no ordinary murder of crows. He could hear hundreds and thousands of them, flapping their wings, cawing, shrieking. They must be in the vicinity of Iron Spear Temple. Nowhere else near Jiaxing was home to so many of the birds.
The temple had been built to honor General Wang Yanzhang, who lived three hundred years ago, during the Five Dynasties era. Near the main temple complex there was a pagoda, in the roof of which crows had nested for generations. The local people believed these birds were soldiers and generals from the heavens, so their habitat was never disturbed and the colony thrived.
“Hey, you’re from this area.” Lotus’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Where should we spend the night? It’s getting dark.”
Ke weighed up their options. The army might still be looking for them and he could not trust the local people not to give them away.
“There’s an old temple up ahead,” he said.
“Oi, have you never seen a crow before? Move!”
The soldier yowled, but Ke did not hear the swish of the cane. She must have jabbed him with her finger or kicked him with her dainty foot.
They walked on for a little while before stopping. He heard doors being kicked down. A cloud of dust mixed with the stench of bird droppings drifted overhead. The temple must have been abandoned for years. He was waiting for her to give orders to move on and find a less filthy place to stay, but instead she barked at the men to sweep the floor and boil water. While they busied themselves with their tasks, she also bustled around, humming a song about lovebirds taking flight and growing gray before their time.
Soon, Ke Zhen’e was settled on the floor of the temple’s main hall, with a prayer mat to use as a pillow. When the soldiers returned with hot water, she first tended to his wound and changed the dressing—to the Freak’s great surprise—before turning her attention to herself, washing off the grime from the road.
“Are you looking at me? Do you want me to pluck out your eyes?”
Dok, dok, dok, dok … One of the men was knocking his forehead very loudly on the floor to show his remorse.
“Why do you watch me wash my feet?”
“This lowly man deserves to die,” he mumbled through his kowtows, answering honestly. “My lady’s feet are as white and beautiful as snow … and the pink toenails … like Guanyin the Observer of Sound…”
Ke Zhen’e was flabbergasted. What a stupid man! Who in his right mind would admit impure thoughts about such a sadistic captor? He wondered what gruesome punishment she would devise for him. Flay him alive? Cut his tendons and leave him to die?
No. She tittered!
“A cretin like you has seen Guanyin’s feet?”
The soldier flipped in a somersault and—pang!—crashed to the floor. That was it. She did not take the matter any further. The two men scampered over to the rear part of the temple and were not heard from again.
Lotus paced the room, muttering to herself. “The name of the Iron Spear General intimidated and inspired during his lifetime, and yet, he was still caught and beheaded in the end. Being a hero can’t save your life. Being a great man can’t stop people mutilating your body. Hmm, this spear looks like it could be cast from iron.”
“Of course, it is!” Ke Zhen’e could not stop himself answering her. He had spent many a happy hour with Zhu Cong, Ryder Han, Woodcutter Nan and Zhang Asheng in this temple, decades ago. Back then, he still had his sight. They were all children, but they were strong, and one of their favorite pastimes was to play fight with the spear forged in
honor of the deified General.
Lotus pulled the weapon from the rack. “This should work. Feels at least thirty jin,” she said aloud to herself, before turning to Ke Zhen’e. “I hurled your staff into South Lake and there isn’t time to get a new one made for you. Take this spear. You’ll need a weapon to protect yourself when we part ways on the morrow.” She went into the courtyard. He sat up and listened. Loud banging, stone on metal. When she came back, she pressed the iron shaft into his hand—she had knocked the spearhead off.
Ke Zhen’e had never been alone. His elder brother Ke Bixie had been there with him all his life, until his untimely death at the hands of Twice Foul Dark Wind. He had also had his six sworn siblings—they had always been by his side … Now he knew they were to part ways, Ke realized he would miss Lotus’s company—even though they had spent a mere day together. This feeling of loss baffled him. He took the spear. It was a little heavier than his staff—not that he had a choice right now. Her handing him a weapon, he had to admit, albeit grudgingly, showed that she did not harbor any ill will toward him. Why would anyone arm an enemy?
“This shark gall and notoginseng powder will help the healing of your wound.” She reached out, offering him a small envelope. “Papa made this. It’s up to you what you want to do with it. I know you hate the two of us.”
Ke Zhen’e took the packet and put it in the inside pocket of his shirt. He wanted to say something, but he could not form the words. He secretly hoped that she would keep talking.
“Go to sleep.”
Ke lay back obediently, setting the iron spear down next to him. A thousand thoughts ran through his mind, chasing sleep away. He listened to the crows perched atop the pagoda. They had quieted down with the deepening night, and yet Lotus did not fall asleep. It sounded like she was just sitting still, doing nothing.