by Jin Yong
“Of course not!”
No-one understood why the Second Freak was so trusting or why he did not press for the antidote.
Zhu Cong handed the devilnut back to Ke Zhen’e, then reached into the pocket inside his shirt. Slowly and deliberately, he drew out a host of objects. A handkerchief. Coin darts. Pieces of silver. A white snuff bottle.
Tiger Peng could not believe his eyes. Those are my things! How did he get them? He had no idea that Zhu Cong’s left hand had brushed past his shirt and emptied his pockets as they shook hands.
Zhu Cong uncorked the snuff bottle. It had two compartments: one filled with a red powder, the other side with a grey powder. “How does it work?”
“Take the red. Grey’s for the wound.” His life at stake, Tiger Peng was no longer playing games.
“Fetch two bowls of water. Quickly.”
Guo Jing ran into the inn, as ordered. He gave Ma Yu the bowl and helped him take the antidote before dressing his wound. Then he turned to Tiger Peng with the second bowl.
“That’s for Elder Wang,” Zhu Cong said.
Both Guo Jing and Wang Chuyi were surprised by the instruction, but they raised no objection.
“How do we apply your antidote?” Hector Sha asked.
“Not so hasty. A few more minutes won’t kill him.” Zhu Cong reached into his shirt once more and pulled out a dozen packets.
“The herbs for Elder Wang!” Guo Jing exclaimed. He unwrapped them and showed them to Wang Chuyi. “Your Reverence, I don’t know which ones you need.”
Wang Chuyi picked out the five herbs he needed to cleanse his body of the toxic injury he had sustained two nights before. He chewed them thoroughly before washing them down with water.
The packets of herbs reminded Greybeard Liang of his encounter with the Freaks in the palace. This dirty scholar dusted my sleeves after our fight. He must have stolen them then! Greybeard Liang raised his ginseng hoe. “Show us your weapon. Let’s see who’d win in a proper fight.”
“I would most certainly lose,” Zhu Cong said with a smile.
“We haven’t had the pleasure of your names yet,” Qiu Chuji cut in.
Hector Sha introduced his companions one by one.
“All renowned names of the wulin! A victor has yet to emerge today, but both sides have already suffered injuries. Let’s arrange a date to meet again,” Qiu Chuji said.
“We would be sorely disappointed if we didn’t get to meet all Seven Masters of the Quanzhen Sect,” Tiger Peng replied. “As for the date and location, Elder Qiu, please name it and we will be there.”
Qiu Chuji considered their situation. It would take a few months for Brother Ma and Brother Wang to fully recover. It would also take time to gather his martial siblings from different parts of the country.
“Let’s meet in six months’ time. On the night of Moon Festival,” he proposed. “We can gaze at the full moon and discuss kung fu. How does that sound?”
“How poetic! We must find a suitably scenic location.” Tiger Peng was turning the proposal over in his head. If all Seven Masters of the Quanzhen Sect turn up with the Seven Freaks of the South, we’ll be greatly outnumbered. Yet, six months should give us the time to recruit other masters to our cause. And since we’ll be travelling south with the Prince to look for General Yue Fei’s final poems, we can hold this fight in that part of the country. Yes, that will work.
“What about the hometown of our Seven Heroes?” Peng said.
“Excellent! Let’s meet at the Tower of Mist and Rain, in the South Lake of Jiaxing,” Qiu Chuji replied. “You’re very welcome to bring friends.”
“We shall be there.”
“So, we Freaks, being the locals, will have to foot the bill? What a cunning plan you two have cooked up!” Zhu Cong laughed. “Of all the poetic landscapes in China, it has to be Jiaxing.”
By now, Tiger Peng could not feel his forearm, and the mere act of conversation took great effort on his part. Zhu Cong’s rambling was trying his patience, but with his life in this filthy scholar’s hands, he swallowed his pride and waited for further instructions.
“Well, well, it’s not every day we get to play hosts to such distinguished masters of the martial world,” Zhu Cong continued. “Butcher Peng, take the white one. Yellow’s for the wound.”
Tiger Peng swallowed the white powder immediately.
“For forty-nine days, you must not drink or copulate,” Ke Zhen’e said. “It would be a great disappointment if you weren’t there for Moon Festival.”
“Thank you for your concern.” Tiger Peng glowered as Hector Sha applied the antidote to his wound. They staggered back to the palace with Greybeard Liang and Gallant Ouyang.
WITH EVERYONE else from the palace gone, Wanyan Kang knelt before his mother’s body and kowtowed four times. He turned to Qiu Chuji and repeated the action. He then stood up, dusted off his robe and went his own way.
“What was the meaning of that?” Qiu Chuji barked.
Wanyan Kang ignored the question and left without looking back. Qiu Chuji stared after his disciple for a long time, then he bowed deeply at the Freaks. “Without the Heroes’ help, we would have died today. That ingrate is infinitely inferior to your Guo Jing. For those of us who practise the martial arts, what matters the most is to live according to the ethics and morals we uphold. Our martial skills are the least of our accomplishments. It is my lifelong shame to have called myself Wanyan Kang’s teacher. We need not stage the contest at the Garden of the Eight Drunken Immortals on the twenty-fourth day of the third month, as we agreed eighteen years ago. Today, I admit defeat wholeheartedly. Let it be known in the jianghu that Qiu Chuji has been defeated by the Seven Heroes of the South and that he accepts his subjugation with humility. My martial brothers Ma Yu and Wang Chuyi, here, are my witnesses.”
Ke Zhen’e replied with a few self-deprecating words of thanks. Qiu Chuji’s earnest admission pleased the Freaks enormously. Eighteen years in the Mongolian desert, so far away from the mild weather and comforts of home, had paid off. And yet, it was a bittersweet victory. Oh, how they wished their Fifth Brother Zhang Asheng could have been with them now.
6
THE FREAKS HELPED MA YU AND WANG CHUYI INSIDE AND sent their Sixth Brother Gilden Quan, the Cloaked Master of the Market, to arrange Ironheart Yang and Charity Bao’s coffins and burial.
Qiu Chuji did not feel right disturbing the weeping Mercy Mu, but he wanted to find out what had happened to Ironheart Yang since they had parted eighteen years ago.
“Young lady, where did you and your godfather live these last few years?” he asked eventually.
“Papa and I were always travelling. We have never stayed in one place for more than two weeks, ever since I can remember.” She wiped her tears. “Papa said he was looking for . . . a young man by the name of Guo . . .” She lowered her head and her voice began to falter. Unmarried young women did not openly discuss men to whom they were not related.
Qiu Chuji glanced at Guo Jing and changed the subject to avoid causing Mercy further discomfort. “How did Ironheart come to be your godfather?”
“I was born in Lotus Pond Village in Lin’an. Papa lived with my family while he recovered from his injury at the hands of the Song soldiers. It was around that time that the plague took my parents and my brother. Papa raised me as his own and taught me kung fu. We travelled everywhere searching for Brother Guo under the banner . . . Duel . . . for a Maiden . . .” It took much courage for Mercy to overcome her embarrassment and get the last four words out loud.
“Your father’s name was Yang, not Mu.” Qiu Chuji shifted the topic to spare her. “You should take on his name.”
“I am a Mu.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“Of course I believe you, but I would prefer to stay a Mu,” she said, her voice now barely audible.
Qiu Chuji dropped the matter for now, thinking it was her grief that caused her obstinacy and she would soon come round to changing her family n
ame to Yang. He had little idea that it was he who was lacking insight. Mercy had thought things through very carefully. Her hand and heart had been won by the man who had overpowered her in the Duel for a Maiden, and this young man, the young Prince Wanyan Kang, was her papa’s true-born son. A Yang. How could she ever hope to marry him if they shared the same name?
Wang Chuyi began to stir, the medicine having revived him somewhat. He had been listening to Qiu Chuji and Mercy’s exchange, but his mind kept circling back to the duel, two days before. “Miss Mu, you are much more skilled in the martial arts than your father. Why is that?”
“A master taught me for three days when I was thirteen, but I hardly learned a thing.”
“What was his name?”
“I’m afraid I am sworn to secrecy.”
Wang Chuyi replayed each of Mercy’s moves from the fight with Wanyan Kang, but he could not figure out the origins of her kung fu.
“Brother Qiu, you have been teaching Wanyan Kang for . . . eight or nine years?”
“Nine and a half. I had no idea that in his heart he was such an ingrate!”
Deep in his own thoughts, Wang Chuyi did not seem to hear Qiu’s answer.
Ke Zhen’e broke the silence. “Elder Qiu, how did you find Brother Yang’s son?”
“It was a stroke of good fortune. After we parted ways eighteen years ago, I travelled far and wide searching for the two families. For years, I searched in vain, but I kept looking. One year, I went back to Ox Village and happened upon a company of soldiers in Brother Yang’s home. They were packing and moving everything from the old farmstead. I followed them, listening out for scraps of information. It turned out they were no ordinary soldiers. They were part of the Prince of Zhao’s private guard, no less, with orders to collect all personal effects from the house. Broken furniture, rusted spearheads, farm tools. It was all very curious, so I tracked them all the way here.”
Now Guo Jing understood why Charity Bao’s residence in the palace was so humble.
“I stole into the palace one night. I needed to see for myself why this Prince of Zhao, Wanyan Honglie, wanted these wretched old things so much that he would send his personal guard thousands of miles south across the border to bring them back. That was when I found out that his Consort was Yang’s beloved wife, Charity Bao. I was going to put my sword through her for choosing the riches and titles of our country’s invaders over the memory of her husband, a patriot. But, seeing her living in that shack amid the grandeur of the palace, cradling Brother Yang’s old spearhead, her tears as fresh as the day he died, my heart softened. Her husband still occupied her mind. I also discovered that she had given birth to Ironheart’s child and he was the young Prince Wanyan Kang; a few years later, when he was old enough, I went back to teach him kung fu.”
“The young man never knew his true parentage?” Ke Zhen’e asked.
“I asked him several times in a roundabout way, but his fondness for wealth and power made me uneasy about his character and I never revealed his heritage. He always feigned obedience with sweet words when I lectured him about the ethics and morals we strive to uphold. If we had not agreed on this contest, I would not have wasted my time on him. I was hoping that, after the fight, regardless of the result, we would make peace. I would tell the boy the truth about his parentage, free Charity from that disgraceful place and find her a quiet home in which to settle down. I never imagined Brother Ironheart could still be alive, or that the pair would lose their lives in such a way as they did today.”
Mercy hid her face in her hands and started sobbing again at the mention of her godfather’s death.
Guo Jing then told them the story of how he found Ironheart Yang imprisoned in the palace the night before, and of Yang’s reunion with Charity Bao. Though Charity had compromised her chastity by marrying Wanyan Honglie, the Freaks and the Taoists understood that she had done so only because she thought her husband was dead. It was not considered immoral for widows to remarry – in fact, it was not an uncommon practice – so no-one could fault her for that. And everyone was moved and humbled by her final act of devotion.
The conversation soon turned to the Moon Festival rendezvous. “There is nothing to worry about,” Zhu Cong said. “The Seven Masters of the Quanzhen Sect will be there.”
“But if they invite other masters of the wulin, we might be outnumbered.” Ma Yu was always cautious.
“Who else could they invite? There aren’t that many masters in this world!” Qiu Chuji cut in.
“Brother, your martial skills have brought fame and glory to the Sect, but you have yet to rein in the overconfidence of your youth. You know the saying well—”
“Above the sky is a loftier heaven, beyond the man a mightier body.” Chuckling, Qiu Chuji supplied the phrase.
“Is that not true? The masters we met today were as skilled as us. We might not win if they bring help.”
“You worry too much, brother. How could the Quanzhen Sect lose to such rogues and vagabonds?”
“The calamities of this world cannot always be foreseen. If our friends, the Six Heroes, here, had not stepped forth to help us today, we three would have lost the good name of our Quanzhen Sect, and that took us decades to acquire.”
Honoured by Ma Yu’s acknowledgement, Ke Zhen’e and Zhu Cong bowed in unison.
“Uncle Zhou was trained personally by our shifu,” Ma Yu continued. “He was ten times more skilled than us, yet his desire to win and to be proved the strongest was the reason for his disappearance. It has been more than a decade, now. We should learn from this. Be humble and vigilant always.”
Ma Yu’s speech silenced Qiu Chuji. The Freaks had never heard of this Uncle Zhou. Clearly, this man had done something that was considered a blot on the Sect’s name. Although curious, the Freaks maintained a tactful silence. Meanwhile, Wang Chuyi was still lost in thought. He had not spoken a word since his exchange with Mercy Mu.
Qiu Chuji glanced at Guo Jing and Mercy. “Brother Ke, your disciple is honourable and righteous. With him as a son-in-law, Ironheart would for certain find peace in his eternal rest.”
Mercy blushed, bowed her head and stood up to leave the room. She was not comfortable with this talk of a marriage to Guo Jing. As she swept past him, Wang Chuyi stood up and thrust his palm at her right shoulder. He waited for Mercy to summon her inner strength to repel him. Just before her strength was fully gathered, he pushed. Mercy teetered and started to fall, face down. Wang Chuyi steadied her with a light touch on the left shoulder. Mercy was once again steady on her feet, standing upright. She stared at Wang Chuyi, wideeyed.
“Miss Mu, please forgive me. I was testing your kung fu. The master who taught you for those three days, he only has nine fingers and dresses like a beggar, am I right?”
“How did Your Reverence know?”
“The Divine Vagrant Nine Fingers is known for his whimsical ways. It is the greatest fortune to have received training from the Venerable Master Hong himself. My hearty congratulations.”
“It’s a pity he was only able to spare three days.”
“For anyone else, those three days would amount to decades of hard work.”
“If Your Reverence says so . . . Do you know where Master Hong might be found?”
“Well, the last time I saw him was more than twenty years ago, at the summit of Mount Hua.”
At this, Mercy left the room in disappointment.
“Elder Wang, can you tell us more about this Venerable Master Hong?” Jade Han asked.
Wang Chuyi sat down with a smile, but it was Qiu Chuji who spoke first. “Perhaps you have heard these names? Heretic of the East, Venom of the West, King of the South, Beggar of the North and Central Divinity.”
“Why, they are the greatest martial-arts masters of our age.”
“Indeed.”
“Master Hong is the Beggar of the North, I believe?” Ke Zhen’e asked.
“Yes. Our shifu, Immortal Wang, was Central Divinity,” Wang Chuyi replied.<
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“Your betrothed was a student of the famous Divine Vagrant.” Qiu Chuji turned to Guo Jing, laughing. “No-one who knew that would dream of making trouble with you.”
Red with embarrassment, Guo Jing wanted to protest that Mercy Mu was not his betrothed, but he only managed to muster a few unintelligible grunts.
“Elder Wang, how did you recognise Mercy’s style just by pushing against her shoulder?” Jade Han asked.
“Come here.” Qiu Chuji beckoned Guo Jing closer. Instantly, the young man felt a hand pressing down on his own shoulder, weighty with the force of the monk’s neigong. But, being a better fighter than Mercy Mu and having learned the same internal kung fu from Ma Yu, he was able to hold his ground and stay on his feet.
“Well done!” Qiu Chuji smiled and withdrew his inner strength. There was now nothing for Guo Jing’s internal energy to push against. Qiu Chuji then gave him a nudge, tipping him backwards. Guo Jing instinctively extended his arm, pushed against the ground, and jumped right back onto his feet.
“Elder Qiu has just taught you a powerful move. Remember it well!” Zhu Cong teased amid a roomful of laughter.
Guo Jing nodded in earnest, unaware that he was the butt of the joke.
“Anyone trained in the martial arts would fall backwards,” Qiu Chuji explained. “However, those trained in the Divine Vagrant’s unique kung fu fall forward. His art is rooted in the firmness of his strength. The stronger the opponent, the stronger his moves become. He might have only taught Miss Mu for three days, but that was all the time she needed to learn the essence of his kung fu. She was not able to withstand Wang Chuyi’s inner strength, but her training ensured that she did not succumb to it, but rather pushed into it. So, when she fell, she tipped forward, against the direction of the pressure.”
Impressed by this martial insight, Zhu Cong asked, “Have you seen the Divine Vagrant in action, Elder Wang?”
“Yes, when our teacher sparred with the other masters at the summit of Mount Hua, more than two decades ago. Master Hong is as much a virtuoso of the martial arts as he is a connoisseur of food, but the summit of a mountain is not a place for gourmet meals, so you can imagine his discomfort. Instead, he treated discussions on martial-arts theory with our shifu and Apothecary Huang like banquets and fine wines. It was a real feast of knowledge and ideas. I was very fortunate to be waiting on my Master and was able to listen to the discussions. I’m still reaping the benefits.”