by Jin Yong
“Of course, your disciple would most certainly prevail. But we all know how advanced your kung fu is. I fear it would be difficult for any disciple of yours to acquire even one-tenth of your skills.”
“Is that another of your veiled insults?”
“Definitely, Count Seven,” Lotus Huang cut Gallant Ouyang off before he could deny it. “He’s cursing you. I know what he’s thinking. He thinks that, although you’re a great martial artist, you’re an awful teacher. You’ve never managed to pass on your knowledge. You just share a piece here, a morsel there. There isn’t a single student who’s successfully learned all you know.”
Glaring at Lotus, Count Seven said, “Lass, I know what you’re trying to do, and I know what the lad is saying.” His hand shot out like a flash of lightning and snatched Gallant Ouyang’s fan from his grasp.
With a flick of his wrist, Count Seven unfolded it and studied its decorations. Several peonies, with the signature Xu Xi. He was unfamiliar with the famous artist of the Northern Song period, but even he could tell it was masterfully painted.
“Awful!” he spat.
The calligraphy on the flip side was signed Master of White Camel Mount. He pointed this out to Lotus. “What do you think?”
“Vulgar.” Lotus lifted her eyebrows in disdain. “I’m certain a scribe at the Tong Ren Pawnbroker wrote it for him. He doesn’t look to me like someone who knows how to use a brush.”
Gallant Ouyang glowered at Lotus. He was incredibly proud of being both a consummate martial artist and a first-rate calligrapher. Yet, it only took one look from her coy, half-smiling eyes for all his annoyance to dissipate.
Count Seven wiped his lips with the fan, smudging the painting and the calligraphy with the chicken grease. He then crushed the fan and tossed it away like a piece of waste paper. No-one else gave much thought to Count Seven’s actions, but they struck fear into Gallant Ouyang – the fan’s monture was made of the strongest steel.
Then the Beggar Clan Chief spoke. “If I were to fight you, you’d never admit defeat, even with your last breath. But I can take a disciple now and you two can fight.”
“I had the pleasure of exchanging a few dozen moves with our brother, here,” Gallant Ouyang said, pointing at Guo Jing, “and I was fortunate enough to gain the upper hand before Master Hong’s interference. Were you close to winning the fight, Brother Guo?”
Guo Jing shook his head. “I cannot beat you.”
Gallant Ouyang beamed.
Count Seven threw his head back and laughed. “Are you my disciple, Guo Jing?”
“No, sir, I cannot claim such an honour,” Guo Jing replied, remembering how Count Seven had responded to his kowtows in the pine forest.
The exchange perplexed the Master of White Camel Mount. I don’t think the old man would lie about such a thing. But then who taught the boy those intricate palm thrusts?
“See?” Count Seven glared at Gallant Ouyang, then turned to Guo Jing. “If I refuse to take you as my disciple, the lass will haunt me with all her infernal tricks until I change my mind. This old beggar hasn’t got the patience to tussle with little girls. I’ll admit defeat and take you as my protégé.”
“How are you going to thank me?” Lotus asked with a smirk. “I’ve found you a good disciple. Now you’ve got someone to pass on your knowledge to. I deserve some credit, don’t I?” She had got her way at last.
Guo Jing fell to his knees, knocked his head on the floor and cried, “Shifu!” He had told the Six Freaks of the South at Roaming Cloud Manor about his encounter with Count Seven and how he had learned Dragon-Subduing Palm. They were thrilled by Guo Jing’s good fortune and gave their blessing should the legendary Master wish to take him as a disciple.
“Come, silly lad, let’s get started!” Count Seven began to demonstrate the remaining three moves from the Dragon-Subduing Palm – in front of everyone.
The Beggar’s so eager to win, he’s forgotten I’m right here! He’s clearly soft in the head, Gallant Ouyang said to himself as he watched Count Seven Hong intently.
The moves seemed rather uninspiring to Gallant’s eyes, but the intricacy probably lay in the explanations whispered in Guo Jing’s ear. The theory behind them must be quite complex, since Guo Jing kept shaking his head in confusion.
Count Seven Hong repeated the instructions again and again. Eventually, his patience was rewarded by a few hesitant nods from his new disciple. It was clear, however, that the young man had comprehended little.
He must be incredibly thick, Gallant Ouyang concluded. I won’t complain, though – he’s given me more time to observe!
Guo Jing was at last ready to try out the moves. After going through them half a dozen times, Count Seven said, “Well done, lad. You’ve mastered half their power. Now, the time has come to beat this wicked lecher.”
Guo Jing took two steps forward – whoosh! – his palm forced Gallant Ouyang to shift sideways. But Gallant Ouyang latched onto his own momentum, swinging his fist back.
Gallant Ouyang expected to defeat Guo Jing easily. Not only could he anticipate the boy’s moves – old and new – he was also confident that Guo Jing had barely grasped one-tenth of the intricacy of these new techniques. But Gallant Ouyang had not understood that the power of the Dragon-Subduing Palm lay in the channelling of strength, not the complexity of the movements. That was why he – or martial masters like Greybeard Liang and Cyclone Mei – could not unravel its secrets, even when Guo Jing repeatedly launched the same few sequences on them. Nor did he realise the three moves Guo Jing had just learned completed the set of the Eighteen Dragon-Subduing Palms, and that this knowledge amplified the force of every other thrust Guo Jing made.
Gallant Ouyang was now struggling. He had tried four different boxing techniques in succession. None of them could stand up to Guo Jing’s steady and repetitive onslaught.
Another score of moves were exchanged. Gallant Ouyang was growing anxious.
My uncle has trained me personally since childhood and this boy has studied with the Old Beggar only a few minutes. I might not be able to win this without resorting to our secret kung fu. I cannot allow the Beggar to appear stronger than my uncle!
Steeled by fresh resolve, he threw a straight punch at Guo Jing.
Guo Jing raised his arm to block, but immediately felt a thump on his neck. Somehow, Gallant Ouyang had managed to snake around his guard by bending his arm at a distinctly unnatural angle. Had the bone in his forearm just melted away?
Guo Jing ducked in shock and pulled himself away. Then he twisted round, palm thrusting in near panic.
Gallant Ouyang stepped sideways and threw another punch.
Guo Jing swerved, avoiding contact. But the fist pursued him whichever way he dodged, as if Gallant Ouyang’s arm could bend like a whip.
Guo Jing moved to block a jab to his right. Yet, somehow, the fist slipped and slithered away, connecting with his left shoulder. He had no idea how to counter these wandering punches and took three heavy blows, one after another. He was flummoxed.
“Guo Jing, stop. Let him have this round.”
Guo Jing backed away to lick his wounds, putting several paces between them.
“I am full of admiration for your exceptional kung fu,” Guo Jing said to Gallant Ouyang. “It is amazing how you bend your arms.”
Gallant Ouyang turned to Lotus, puffed up in triumph.
“This Flaccid Snake Fist must have been inspired by the Venom’s serpentine companions,” Count Seven Hong said, still mulling over Gallant Ouyang’s last phase of attack. “It is indeed exceptional and I will admit that I can think of no way to overcome your kung fu right now. It’s your lucky day . . . Now, get out of my sight!”
Gallant Ouyang was horrified that the Beggar had recognised the source of his martial secret instantly. His uncle’s warning came back to him: Use the Sacred Snake Fist only in matters of life and death.
If Uncle knew what had just happened, he would mete out the worst form of punishme
nt . . . The thought wiped out all the joy of victory. He grudgingly put his hands together in a gesture of respect and turned to leave.
7
“NOT SO HASTY,” LOTUS HUANG CALLED.
Gallant Ouyang spun around, his heart thumping in anticipation. But she took no notice of him and spoke only to Count Seven Hong.
“Why not consider taking on two disciples today?” She fell to her knees. “Good things always come in pairs.”
Count Seven shook his head and laughed. “I’ve gone against every principle I hold dear by accepting him. Your father ranks with me as one of the Greats. Why would he let you call me Shifu?”
“Oh, you’re afraid of Papa!” As usual, Lotus knew exactly how to get her way.
“What? No! I’ll take you as my disciple. What can the Heretic do? Eat me alive?”
“It’s settled, then! You can’t go back on your word. Papa will be thrilled! He’s told me many times that there are only two truly great martial masters left in the world, now that Double Sun Wang Chongyang has passed. You and him. He thought the Southern King was very good too. But, as for the rest –” she glanced at Gallant Ouyang – “for them, he has only disdain. Now, Shifu, how do beggars catch snakes? Will you teach me?”
The Beggar was not entirely sure why she wanted to learn that. But, since she had many tricks up her sleeves, he played along and instructed her with mock gravitas: “Fork two fingers, like this. Pinch the snake seven inches from its head, and it will be instantly immobilised.”
“What if it’s particularly big and strong?”
“Wiggle your fingers as bait, to draw its attention. Then strike with your other hand.”
“I’ll need to be very agile.”
“Of course.” Count Seven Hong paused. “There’s also an ointment you should spread on your hands. That way, even if you get bitten, you’ll be fine.”
“Shifu, would you put the ointment on my hands?” Her earnest tone belied a wink.
Snake tricks were the work of the most junior beggars of the Clan, and, as their leader, Count Seven Hong did not carry the ointment on his person. So he improvised. He uncorked his red gourd and rubbed some wine into Lotus’s hands.
Lotus sniffed and pulled a face. At last, she turned to Gallant Ouyang. “I’m the latest and last disciple of Hero Hong, chieftain of all the beggars. I’d like to take on this Flaccid Snake Fist of yours. The ointment on my hands is poison to your kind. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!”
“It would be my pleasure to die in your hands,” he replied, flashing her a lecherous grin. He knew he only had to reach out and he would win. Nonetheless, he silently promised to avoid her hands.
“Your other moves are too common, hardly worth my while. I’m only interested in your Flaccid Snake Fist. If you use anything else, then you lose.”
“Your wish is my command.”
Lotus smiled sweetly. “You may be a villain, but you’re always rather civil to me. Here comes the first move!”
A punch flew at Gallant Ouyang – whoosh! – Count Seven Hong’s Wayfaring Fist.
Gallant Ouyang leaned to the side and out of its path. She immediately followed up with a horizontal left kick and a grappling right hook. This was her father’s invention, Cascading Peach Blossom Palm. It did not matter who had taught her the attacking move, as long as it helped her defeat him.
The speed and the complexity of her attack forced Gallant Ouyang to take her challenge seriously. His arm shot forward with explosive speed, then bent suddenly, his fist hurtling towards her shoulder. Then he remembered – Hedgehog Chainmail! He wrenched it back at the last moment to avoid a bloody fist.
Lotus saw her chance and raised her palms to box his ears.
Gallant Ouyang twirled his sleeves upward with a flick of his wrists to guide her hands away. He could only aim for her head. Her body was protected by the chainmail and he had promised himself he would not grab her by the hands because of the “ointment”.
But how could I be so unmannerly as to strike her cheeks or pull her hair? he asked himself as he ducked and dodged.
Leaping away from another of Lotus’s palm strikes, Gallant Ouyang had an idea. He tore his sleeves and took the short respite his retreat had given him to wind the fabric around his hands. Then he flipped his palms down, hooked his fingers and grabbed at her wrists with the grappling technique.
“That’s not Flaccid Snake Fist! You’ve lost!” Lotus tapped the ground with one hand to propel herself away.
“Ah, I apologise for my lapse.”
“Your Flaccid Snake Fist is as common as the rest of your kung fu. It can’t subdue a disciple of Count Seven Hong. You agree with me, don’t you? Remember the last time we sparred? At the Jin Prince’s palace? You had Greybeard Liang, Hector Sha, Tiger Peng, Lama Supreme Wisdom and that man with horns on his head – Browbeater Hou – to help you. Six grown men against one girl. I admitted defeat because none of you was worth my energy. Since you and I have each won once, shall we fight another round to determine the winner?”
Vigour Li and the other beggars admired the intricacy of Lotus’s kung fu, but it was clear that Gallant Ouyang was the superior martial artist. They doubted her claim of defeating masters like Tiger Peng and Hector Sha. If she had, it was probably through trickery, just as she had cornered Gallant Ouyang, a moment ago.
But why would she want to fight again? They simply could not understand it. They also found their Chief’s indifference baffling. Count Seven Hong was munching what was left of the chicken with a smile, licking and sucking the bones clean with relish. He made no move to interfere.
“It would be my pleasure to entertain the lady, should she wish to fight. I’m equally happy, whoever wins.”
“When we were at the Prince of Zhao’s residence, we were surrounded by your friends,” Lotus rattled on, ignoring Gallant Ouyang’s reply. “If I had won, they would most certainly have come to your aid, which was why I didn’t show you my real kung fu. But, today, you have your friends –” she pointed to the women dressed in white – “and I have mine, too. You have a greater number, but I will overlook this advantage. Why don’t you draw another circle on the floor? We will honour the same rules: whoever gets thrown out first is the loser. Now that I’m a disciple of the renowned Count Seven, I shall grant you another advantage: there’s no need to bind your hands.”
As usual, Lotus was twisting logic and inverting facts, but she spoke with such grace and reason that Gallant Ouyang did not know how to reply. He could not summon enough indignance to refuse her. So, obediently, he extended his right foot three feet from his body and, using his left leg as a pivot, drew a perfect circle, an inch deep and six feet in diameter, in the floor tiles. It was hard not to be impressed by the libertine’s kung fu.
Lotus stepped inside the circle and asked, “Are we doing this the civil way or the martial way?”
“Would you mind elaborating?”
“If we do it the civil way, we take turns. The first person launches three moves and their opponent is not allowed to make any counter-attack. With the martial way, you do what you want, whenever you want. You can use your Dead Snake Fist, your Live Rat Fist, anything you fancy. Whoever’s pushed out of the circle first is the loser.”
“But, of course, we shall do it the civil way.”
“Good choice. You won’t be able to keep up if we do it the martial way. At least, now, you have some hope. Well, shall I be magnanimous today and grant you yet another advantage? Who makes the first move? You or me?”
“Of course, it should be my lady.”
“You are sly.” Lotus smiled coyly. “You always pick what’s best for you.” She thrust her palm at Gallant Ouyang before he could take back his gentlemanly offer.
He noticed the air glisten and a shimmering cloud, wider than the circle, flew towards him. She must have thrown some secret weapon!
He could have swept them away easily with his fan or his sleeves. But the former had been destroyed by Count Seven Hon
g and he had torn the latter off in a bid to win the last fight. He could also dodge them comfortably by lurching sideways, but then he would land outside the circle – and lose.
He only had one option. He tapped his foot and leapt half a dozen feet off the ground. A deluge of needles shot past, underneath his feet.
When Gallant Ouyang’s upward momentum was spent and he started to descend, Lotus shouted, “Second move!”
This time, she waved both hands, letting fly more than a hundred needles – the Skyful of Petals technique Count Seven had invented to counter Gallant Ouyang’s snakes. She flung them far and wide, and with as much force as possible. Everywhere the libertine looked, needles glinted in the air.
Gallant Ouyang’s kung fu could not help him defy gravity.
This is it! What a savage wench! Silently cursing Lotus’s cruelty, he steeled himself to meet his end.
Suddenly, he felt his collar tighten and his body soaring upwards instead of plunging down. He sensed the rush of air as the swarm of needles whizzed past below. He heard the metallic clinking of the needles as they rained down on the floor tiles. He had been saved, but, before he could rejoice, he realised he was hurtling across the room.
Once more, his martial training failed him. The force that propelled him was so powerful that he could not latch onto its momentum to flip himself upright. He landed heavily on his left shoulder. It was clear that only Count Seven Hong would have the internal strength to make such a throw.
Avoiding all eye contact, Gallant Ouyang jumped back onto his feet and stormed out of the ancestral temple, his cheeks hot with anger and shame. His women rushed after him in panic.
Lotus Huang went up to Miss Cheng and cut the binds around her wrists. The young woman took Lotus by the hand and whispered her thanks, but remained shyly in a corner, with her head hung low.
Lotus turned to Count Seven Hong. “Shifu, why did you help him?”