A Bond Undone

by Jin Yong

  But Ma Yu was struggling. Hector Sha and Greybeard Liang were wearing him down with their relentless onslaught. Liang’s weapon was a ginseng hoe. Hack, dig, swipe – he was full of unpredictable moves. Sha swung his iron oar with ferocious force.

  The ring of defence Ma Yu was maintaining with his sword was getting smaller and smaller. He was panting now, he felt drained. He had been using his internal neigong to suppress the poison, but he also needed to channel energy to the blade in his left hand.

  His right palm was swollen and a numbing itch was creeping up the arm. The poison was potent. Ma Yu knew he needed to act fast. The more he used his strength to fight, the faster his blood would pump the venom to his heart.

  Steam rose from Ma Yu’s head as though it were a pot on the boil. Qiu Chuji wanted to help, but he was unable to shake off his three opponents.

  This scholar’s moves are peculiar, Qiu Chuji thought. More sinister than Three Black Cat’s. They seem familiar . . . Questions raced through his mind. He fights like our foe, Venom of the West. Did he train under him? Is the Venom back in the Central Plains? Is he here in the city, right now?

  Qiu Chuji’s focus wavered. He nearly took a hit.

  Ironheart Yang could not stand by any longer. My kung fu is child’s play next to theirs, but I cannot let them hold my enemies back while I run away with my family. He lifted the spear and lunged at Gallant Ouyang’s blindside.

  “No!” Qiu Chuji gasped. “You’ll get—”

  Gallant Ouyang leapt into the air. He kicked the spear with his left foot and let his right sink into Ironheart’s chest. The spear split in two. Ironheart crashed to the ground.

  4

  A CLATTER OF HOOVES. ANOTHER COMPANY OF RIDERS WAS racing towards the fight. Leading the troop were the Sixth Prince of the Jin Empire, Wanyan Honglie, and his son, Wanyan Kang.

  Wanyan Honglie spotted his Consort from afar and galloped ahead in delight. Yet, as he jumped off his horse, he was welcomed by the chill of steel. He lurched to the side, only narrowly avoiding the blade. A girl in red, standing beside his wife, clutched the sabre – Mercy Mu. His personal guard scrambled forward to restrain the young woman.

  Wanyan Kang, meanwhile, had noticed his martial instructor Qiu Chuji.

  “Stop! Stop! They’re with us!” He had to call out several times before Tiger Peng and his fellow masters heeded his words. The Sixth Prince’s personal guard also lowered their weapons.

  He was dismayed to find his teacher here in the city, but Wanyan Kang walked up to the Taoist monk and bowed. “Shifu, allow me to make an introduction. These gentlemen are wulin masters invited here by my father.”

  With a slight incline of his head, Qiu Chuji went to check on Ma Yu.

  His right palm was black. He rolled up Ma Yu’s sleeve. The discolouration had reached as far as the elbow. Qiu Chuji was alarmed. How was the poison spreading so fast?

  He turned to Tiger Peng. “Give us the antidote.”

  Tiger Peng did not want to cross the young Prince Wanyan Kang by refusing his mentor, but Ma Yu already had one foot in the grave.

  The respite gave Ma Yu a chance to focus on containing the poison. He was able to use his internal strength to push the black blood back down his veins and towards his wrist.

  Wanyan Kang now ran towards his mother. “Ma, we’ve found you!”

  “I will never go back,” Charity Bao declared.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “My husband – your father – is still alive. I will never leave his side again.”

  Shocked and incensed, Wanyan Honglie glanced at Greybeard Liang. Catching the signal, Liang flicked his right hand. Three Night and Noon Needles flew at Ironheart Yang.

  Qiu Chuji caught the movement from the corner of his eye. They fly too fast. Ironheart won’t have time to duck and I haven’t got any secret weapons on me. He seized a nearby soldier and hurled the man into the Needles’ path.

  The guard screamed as all three projectiles disappeared into his flesh.

  That was my ultimate skill, perfected over decades. Old Liang scowled. I’ve never missed my mark. I’ll make him pay! He lunged at Qiu Chuji with a growl.

  At this new turn of events, Tiger Peng decided to keep the antidote. The Prince only wants his Consort back, he thought. I’ll get her for him. He reached for Charity Bao’s arm.

  Qiu Chuji twirled his sword, first twisting its sting at Tiger Peng, then slicing its tip at Greybeard Liang, forcing them back.

  “Foolish child!” he barked. “You have called a villain ‘Father’ for eighteen years. The man who sired you stands here before you. Pay your respects!”

  When his mother had told him about this man last night, Wanyan Kang had only half believed her. But now his shifu was confirming it, he was almost convinced. He looked at the rugged and bedraggled Ironheart Yang. Then he turned to the only father he had ever known, who stood regal and handsome.

  Give up my wealth and finery to follow this beggar? No! Never! The young Prince knew where his heart lay.

  “Shifu, don’t listen to his lies. Bring Her Highness to us.”

  “You animal! You fool!” Qiu Chuji snapped.

  The decision had been made for Tiger Peng. He had no obligation to save Ma Yu and could now attack Qiu Chuji without fear of repercussions from the two princes. He let rip his deadliest kung fu.

  Wanyan Kang made no move to intervene. In fact, he was secretly hoping that Tiger Peng would kill Qiu Chuji so he would not be bothered by the old man again.

  Blood splattered across Qiu Chuji’s robe. Greybeard Liang had dug his ginseng hoe into the monk’s right arm. A flash of joy lit up Wanyan Kang’s face.

  “You wolf-hearted beast!” Qiu Chuji shouted, enraged by his disciple’s delight at his injury.

  Ma Yu pulled a flare from his robe and lit it. A blue flame shot into the sky.

  “The old monk’s calling for help!” More determined than ever to eliminate the Taoists, Tiger Peng redoubled his onslaught.

  Another blue flame answered, flying high above the rooftops.

  “Brother Wang’s nearby!” The signal energised Qiu Chuji. He switched the sword to his left hand. Bringing his right arm down and lifting his left, he launched a dozen of his deadliest moves in quick succession. His attackers were forced to back away.

  Ma Yu pointed north-west. “That way!”

  Ironheart Yang and Mercy Mu raised their weapons and rushed ahead with Charity Bao. Ma Yu followed closely behind. Qiu Chuji brought up the rear, brandishing his sword to keep their pursuers at bay.

  Hector Sha tried several Shape Changing moves to break through Qiu Chuji’s rapid swordplay, but it wove such a tight net of protection that he could not get close to the Consort.

  It was not long before the group arrived at the inn where Wang Chuyi was staying. Where’s Brother Wang? Why is he not here to help us? The answer appeared before Qiu Chuji’s eyes. Wang Chuyi hobbled over, leaning on a wooden staff.

  All three of the Quanzhen Sect’s most powerful martial artists were injured.

  “Give us Her Highness and we shall let you live!” Wanyan Honglie called.

  “We don’t need mercy from Jin dogs!” Qiu Chuji flashed his sword in defiance.

  The Taoist might have been in a tight corner, but he was not going to give up. His blade slashed and stabbed with awesome force and infinite variation. Tiger Peng could not help but admire the man’s skill and determination. At the same time, he was thrilled by his stroke of good fortune. He had been handed the chance to eliminate three Quanzhen Sect Masters in one morning.

  Ironheart Yang realised death was certain. But, if he took action now, perhaps he could still save Elder Qiu’s life. He took Charity Bao’s hand and strode forward with his spear.

  “Stop! This will end here. Now.”

  He turned the spear and plunged it into his heart.

  With both hands, Charity Bao pulled the spear out and rested the butt against the ground. She turned to Wanyan Kang. �
�Son, will you not believe that he is your father?”

  At which she threw herself down on the spearhead.

  “Ma!”

  Everyone stopped.

  The spear was burrowed deep into Charity’s chest. Crying loudly, Wanyan Kang rushed to his mother’s limp body.

  Qiu Chuji examined their wounds. There was nothing to be done.

  “Brother Yang, do you have any unfinished business? Tell me. Whatever it may be, I will fulfil it for you. I . . . I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to save you. I . . .” Qiu Chuji broke into sobs.

  5

  THIS WAS THE SCENE GUO JING AND THE SIX FREAKS OF THE South happened upon when they arrived at the inn in search of Wang Chuyi.

  Recognising Hector Sha, Gallant Ouyang and the others from a distance, the Freaks immediately pulled out their weapons, ready to fight. But no-one paid these new arrivals any attention; they were transfixed by the tragedy unfolding before them.

  As they approached, the Freaks were surprised to find Ma Yu and Qiu Chuji standing among this group, while Guo Jing broke into a run when he saw that the man lying in a pool of blood was Ironheart Yang.

  “Uncle Yang! What happened to you?”

  A faint smile appeared on Ironheart’s face. “Your father and I made a pledge. If we had one boy and one girl, they would be married . . .” He gasped. “My god-daughter, I consider her as my own blood . . .” He looked towards Qiu Chuji. “Your Reverence, can you see that they are married? Then I . . . I can rest in peace.”

  “Let it trouble you not. I shall see it done,” Qiu Chuji promised.

  Lying next to Ironheart Yang, Charity Bao had been drifting in and out of consciousness. She clung to his arm, for fear that they would be separated again. At the mention of the marriage pledge, she summoned her last strength and took something from inside her blouse. “The token . . .”

  Qiu Chuji took it from her hands. It was the dagger he had given Ironheart Yang eighteen years before. On the hilt was the name Guo Jing, carved by his own hand.

  “I am so happy . . . together again . . . for eternity . . .” Charity exhaled for the last time. The serenity of her face gave no hint of her violent end.

  “In the name of your late father . . . look after my daughter . . .” Ironheart choked the words out.

  “I . . . I—” Guo Jing stammered.

  “I shall take care of everything. Go, go in peace!” Qiu Chuji said softly.

  Memories of when he first raised the Duel for a Maiden banner came back to Ironheart Yang. He had not in fact been seeking a suitor for Mercy, but searching for Skyfury Guo’s offspring. Now, on this same day, he had been reunited with his beloved wife and had seen with his own eyes his sworn brother’s son, all grown up. He had even settled a good future for his god-daughter. He had everything he had ever wanted from life. At that, he closed his eyes forever.

  Through the grief, Guo Jing’s heart was troubled by Ironheart’s last words. How can I marry another? Lotus is devoted to me. Then it dawned on him. The Great Khan’s daughter! I’ve forgotten all about Khojin! Her father has given her hand to me . . . What should I do?

  Ever since Guo Jing left the steppe, he had often missed the company of Tolui – his anda sworn brother – but he had barely given a thought to Tolui’s sister, his betrothed. The Freaks’ thoughts turned to her immediately, but, out of respect, they held their tongues.

  Wanyan Honglie had dispatched armies and hatched elaborate plots to win Charity Bao for himself, but she had never for one moment forgotten her husband. The Prince catered to her every whim and request. When she wanted the battered old things from her past life as a peasant, he sent soldiers to the south to gather every brick and tile. He had hoped his extravagant gestures would win her affection, but, in the end, he won nothing. As she lay dying, there was such joy, such sweetness. She had never shown such tenderness towards him in eighteen years of marriage. He might have been a prince, but, in her eyes, he was nobody; he could never compare to that simple country fellow. This was no place for a man with a broken heart. He turned back to the palace and his personal guard hastened after him.

  Hector Sha and Tiger Peng knew they had lost the advantage now that the Freaks had arrived. They too followed the Prince.

  “Not so hasty, Three Black Cats. The antidote!” Qiu Chuji stopped Tiger Peng.

  Peng laughed nastily. “My name is Tiger Peng. They call me the Butcher of a Thousand Hands in the wulin. Has Elder Qiu mistaken me for someone else?”

  That was a name Qiu Chuji had heard before, but the Taoist forced himself to overlook the jibe. Saving his martial brother was paramount.

  “I care not if you have three legs or a thousand hands. You’re not leaving until you’ve handed over the antidote.”

  A glint of metal. The green glow of Qiu Chuji’s sword arced towards Tiger Peng. He pulled out his remaining Scribe’s Brush to defend himself.

  Zhu Cong, the second of the Freaks, had been observing Ma Yu since their arrival. The monk was sitting on the ground, using his internal-strength kung fu to propel his qi around his body in an attempt to slow the progress of the poison. His right hand was still completely black.

  “Your Reverence, how did it happen?” Zhu Cong asked.

  “I shook hands with Tiger Peng. He ambushed me with poisoned pins.”

  “Oh, did he, now?” Zhu Cong turned to Ke Zhen’e. “Big Brother, may I have a devilnut?”

  The leader of the Freaks was unsure why his Second Brother wanted one of his secret weapons, but he trusted that he had a plan. Zhu Cong was named “the Intelligent” and “Quick Hands” precisely because of his quick wits and superb sleight of hand. He reached into his deerskin pouch to fetch a poisoned devilnut.

  “I know how to help Elder Ma. Keep Tiger Peng and Qiu Chuji apart for me, please, Big Brother.” Zhu Cong took the devilnut with care, then turned to Tiger Peng. “So, it is Butcher of a Thousand Hands, the mighty Tiger Peng! Oh, do stop this silly fight. We are all on the same side. Come, hear me out!”

  Zhu Cong tugged at Ke Zhen’e and the two of them placed themselves between Tiger Peng and Qiu Chuji. Zhu Cong raised his oilpaper fan and Ke Zhen’e his metal staff.

  Baffled by Zhu Cong’s claim, the embattled men stepped back.

  “The Seven Freaks of the South and Elder Eternal Spring Qiu Chuji crossed swords eighteen years ago. He injured five of us. But, then again, the fight also left the renowned Eternal Spring more dead than alive. We have yet to settle the score . . .” Zhu Cong turned to Qiu Chuji. “Am I right, Your Reverence?”

  “What are you trying to say?” Qiu Chuji roared.

  “But we are also guilty of treading on Hector Sha’s toes. Our good-for-nothing disciple defeated four of his skilled students single-handedly. We’ve heard that the Butcher and the Dragon King are such close friends that they would die for each other. So, by that logic, by offending one, we have obviously also offended the other.”

  Tiger Peng sneered.

  “Now, since there is bad blood between us and each of you individually, we are enemies to you both. Doesn’t that put the two of you on the same side? So why are you fighting each other? And, Butcher Peng, since we both hold a grudge against Elder Qiu, doesn’t that put us on the same side too? Come, let’s be friends.” Zhu Cong offered his hand.

  What is this filthy scholar talking about? Tiger Peng put away his Scribe’s Brush and slipped his secret weapon around his fingers. I won’t fall for your trap. You can’t trick the antidote from me. Wang Chuyi saved your disciple the other day. The Quanzhen Sect is clearly on the same side as the Freaks.

  “Brother Zhu, beware!” Qiu Chuji exclaimed. Zhu Cong ignored the warning and kept his hand extended.

  “Why not?” Tiger Peng took Zhu Cong’s hand with a smirk.

  Zhu Cong’s little finger pulsed as the two hands joined. They both summoned their inner strength and the grip tightened.

  A prick!

  Tiger Peng yanked his hand away. Three holes. Much bigger than h
is pins. Black blood. Numb. Itchy. No pain at all. Lethal poison never hurts.

  He had already lost all feeling in his hand. How had this happened? He looked up.

  Zhu Cong was hiding behind Qiu Chuji, smirking. Then Tiger Peng noticed his secret weapon dangling from the filthy scholar’s left hand, and, in his right, a black object shaped like a water chestnut, its sharp corners glistening.

  Blood.

  He lunged at Zhu Cong.

  “What now?” Qiu Chuji growled, his sword poised for action. “Butcher Peng, this is our Big Brother’s secret weapon. We care not whether you are a tiger, lion, leopard, dog or pig; within four hours all living creatures succumb to the poison.” Zhu Cong beamed. “Luckily, you’ve got a thousand hands. My advice is to cut this one off. You’ll still have nine hundred and ninety-nine left. But then you’ll have to change your martial title . . .”

  Beads of sweat dripped from Tiger Peng’s brow. He could not feel his wrist now. Fear shut his ears to the insults.

  “You have your poisoned pins and I have my devilnuts. Different poisons, different antidotes. If you want to keep your name, we should really be friends and make an exchange. We’re on the same side, after all. How does that sound?”

  Hector Sha cut in, “Good! Give us your antidote.”

  “Big Brother, give it to him.”

  Ke Zhen’e drew two small packets from an inside pocket in his shirt and Zhu Cong held them out for Hector Sha.

  “Brother Zhu, take his antidote first,” Qiu Chuji called.

  Zhu Cong smiled. “When great men give their word, they keep it. I am sure he won’t betray our trust.”

  Tiger Peng reached into his shirt with his left hand and colour drained from his face. “Where is it?”

  “Enough of your tricks!” Qiu Chuji cried. “Brother Zhu, don’t give it him!”

  “Take it.” Zhu Cong offered the packets. “The word of a gentleman is as true as a horseman’s whip! We said we would give you the antidote. The Seven Masters of the Quanzhen Sect and the Seven Freaks of the South are men of their word.”

  Afraid that he would fall prey to Zhu Cong’s quick hands, Hector Sha extended his iron oar. “The Seven Freaks of the South are renowned throughout the martial world,” he began. “They would not ruin their reputation with fake antidotes, would they?”