by Jin Yong
He swung his left arm out, hoping to change the momentum of the fall and find his equilibrium again. But nothing he could do was powerful enough to overcome the force that was flipping his body around in a somersault. He crashed down on his left shoulder.
“My good brother, I won’t let you fall for nothing. Let me explain how I did it.” Zhou Botong looked somewhat apologetic.
Guo Jing crawled to his feet and limped over.
“Do you know these lines from Laozi’s Classic of the Way and Virtue? ‘When clay is moulded, from its hollowness a vessel finds its use. When openings are made in a wall, from its hollowness a room finds its space.’”
Guo Jing blinked and shook his head, thoroughly confused.
Zhou Botong picked up a bowl. “If this was a solid piece of clay, could it hold any rice?”
Guo Jing shook his head again, amazed how he had never noticed such a simple and obvious truth.
“Think how you’d build a house. If there’s no door or window, if wood and bricks are just piled up in a great big heap, is it a room? Has it got any use?”
Guo Jing shook his head once more, with a further spark of comprehension.
“Hollowness and suppleness are two fundamental concepts of the Quanzhen Sect’s most advanced kung fu. ‘When wholeness appears incomplete, fail it shall not; when abundance appears short, deplete it shall not.’”
Zhou Botong explained how these lines from Classic of the Way and Virtue related to the martial arts. Guo Jing listened with his whole being, trying to grasp their significance.
“Your shifu Count Seven Hong’s kung fu represents the very best of external martial arts. Even though I know some internal skills from the Quanzhen Sect, I don’t think I can beat him. But he’s probably reached its apex. There isn’t anywhere further to go with this type of martial knowledge.
“However, with Quanzhen neigong, there’s no end to the learning. I’ve only just peeked through the doorway. My martial brother didn’t win the title of the Greatest Martial Master Under the Heavens through sheer luck. If he was still alive today, he could beat the Heretic, the Venom and the others in half a day. He wouldn’t have to fight them again for seven days and seven nights.”
“I wish I could’ve seen Immortal Wang’s martial magic. I know the Dragon-Subduing Palm is the most firm kind of strength. Does it mean my brother’s kung fu is the most supple?”
“Yes, you’ve got it! The supple can overcome the firm. However, I wouldn’t be able to send you flying if you were as good as Count Seven. Watch carefully, now.”
Zhou Botong described the move he had just performed and explained how he controlled his energy, going into great detail, since he knew Guo Jing would be slow on the uptake.
With his solid grounding in Quanzhen neigong, Guo Jing began to get to grips with the basics after repeating it several dozen times.
“Are you still in pain? If not, can I throw you again?” Zhou Botong burned with anticipation.
“My body’s fine, but I haven’t perfected the move yet.” Guo Jing played the motion over and over in his head, trying to carve it into his memory.
A moment passed. Zhou Botong’s patience was stretched to breaking point.
“What about now? Have you learned it yet? Come on! Are you ready now?”
His interruption meant that it took even longer for Guo Jing to memorise the technique. But, after the time it takes to finish a meal, Guo Jing was finally ready to face Zhou Botong again.
At last, he understood how Apothecary Huang had dislocated his wrist by simply pulling in his stomach. It was the same kind of hollow strength that sent him flying this very moment.
4
ZHOU BOTONG WOULD HAVE HAPPILY FORGONE SLEEP TO SPAR all day and all night, but Guo Jing needed a few hours’ rest to function properly. But, over the next few days, they practised every waking hour.
By now, poor Guo Jing had been sent sprawling at least seven or eight hundred times. Battered and bruised from head to toe, he finally grasped the underlying concept of Zhou Botong’s technique.
Guo Jing withstood the falls with the same steely determination that had helped him acquire his kung fu. Enduring the pain through gritted teeth, he had now learned the whole Luminous Hollow Fist repertoire: seventy-two moves that Zhou Botong invented in the cave.
In no time at all, Guo Jing was able to manipulate his strength in the same hollow and supple way. Zhou Botong could no longer rock the young man’s footing and send him flying.
A couple of days later, everything came together for Guo Jing. “When Master Hong taught me the Dragon-Subduing Palm, he kept stressing that I should reserve more energy than I propel. So it wasn’t just about being fierce and firm.”
“Indeed! That combination of suppleness and strength is what makes Count Seven Hong’s kung fu so potent. I probably couldn’t beat him, even when using Luminous Hollow Fist.”
Time was passing much faster now. The days flew by. Guo Jing was growing ever more anxious about Lotus, but he had no way to find her or contact her. He came close to asking the mute servant who brought their meals on several occasions, yet, each time, Zhou Botong pulled him back.
One day, after lunch, Zhou Botong said, “You have now mastered the Luminous Hollow Fist. I can’t throw you off your feet anymore. Let’s play a new game.”
“Of course! What have you got in mind?”
“A four-way fight!”
“Four-way?”
“That’s right. Four. My left hand is one person; my right is another. You’ve got two hands, too. So, four altogether. No hand is allowed to help another hand. A four-hand melee. It’ll be so fun!”
“It sounds great, but I can’t fight separately with my hands.”
“I’ll teach you later. Let’s try a three-way brawl first!” Zhou Botong launched two different kung fu moves, one with each hand.
Guo Jing was amazed. How did he retain the full power of the moves when he only performed them with one side of his body?
Soon, he was hard pressed by two strong opponents. Then, one of Zhou Botong’s hands switched sides and came to his rescue. Now fighting two against one, Guo Jing found himself in the dominant position. But that did not last long; the helping hand withdrew and Zhou Botong’s two hands attacked as a united front once again. Alliances were made and remade, always shifting. No single party could gain the upper hand.
Fighting was a tiring business. They paused to catch their breath and Guo Jing’s mind turned to Lotus once more.
She’d love this! We could wage a six-handed battle.
The moment Guo Jing’s pulse slowed to the resting rate, Zhou Botong began regaling him with ways of mastering this technique, which he named Competing Hands.
Wise men had said, “To do two things at once is to do neither,” and they had also warned, “If the hands in unison draw a square and a circle each, neither would look angular or round.”
Yet, the key to this very kung fu was to do two things at once and to do them well. So the first task Guo Jing was given was to draw, simultaneously, a square with one hand and a circle with the other.
At first, Guo Jing could only draw two circles or two squares, or shapes that were neither angular nor curved. Eventually, he realised the action was not unlike eating: bowl in the left hand, chopsticks in the right. The hands moved in different ways and performed separate tasks, yet, together, they put food in the mouth. Holding that idea in his head, he was able to draw the shapes as required.
Pleased that Guo Jing had grasped the underlying theory of the technique so quickly, Zhou Botong said, “You know, it’d take a lot longer if you didn’t know the Quanzhen Sect’s internal kung fu. Without your neigong training, you wouldn’t be able to split your focus like that. Now, launch some moves from the Southern Mountain Fists with your left hand and the Yue Maiden Sword with your right.”
These martial skills Guo Jing had learned from Woodcutter Nan and Jade Han were so ingrained that he could perform either kung fu, on its
own, without thinking. Yet he now struggled to control his arms to create any semblance of the moves he had known so well since childhood.
Desperate to pass on his technique, Zhou Botong bombarded the young man with every trick and tip he could think of.
After several days of intensive training, Guo Jing could just about use different moves with each hand.
“Come! Your right hand and my left hand will be a team, and these two –” Zhou Botong grabbed Guo Jing’s left hand with his right – “are their enemies.”
Then he roared, “Let the battle commence!”
How could a young man not like a game like this? Following Zhou Botong’s instructions, he plunged in, willing his right hand to fight his left. Guo Jing had never seen, nor heard, nor imagined such a wild combat. He could scarcely believe that it was happening and he was part of it.
Zhou Botong shouted prompts to sharpen the attack and tighten the defence. For the Hoary Urchin, this was a game, a little fun to alleviate his solitude. He had no idea he was teaching Guo Jing a peculiar and powerful kung fu that had no precedent.
One day, an idea came to Guo Jing. We can train our legs the same way and have an eight-way battle! Yet, he did not share the thought with his wayward brother. He dreaded to think of the consequences of making such a suggestion.
Days flew by quickly, thanks to this new diversion. One morning, they battled as four individuals. No alliances, no fixed opponents. Zhou Botong was in a more buoyant mood than usual, chuckling as he fired off his attacks.
Before long, Guo Jing found himself unable to stand his ground. His right hand buckled under the onslaught. Naturally, his left hand came to its aid.
But Zhou Botong kept the torrent of moves raining hard. Guo Jing could no longer split his moves between his hands, so the Hoary Urchin folded one arm behind his back to keep the fight fair.
With two hands working in unison, Guo Jing managed to push back Zhou Botong’s single-handed offensive.
Zhou Botong laughed in triumph. “You lose! Your hands are using the same kung fu!”
Guo Jing hopped back. A sudden thought had struck him. Eventually, he spoke. “You fight with two separate forms of kung fu, one from each hand. That’s like two persons firing off moves individually, is it not? If you were to use Competing Hands in an actual battle, your opponent would have to fend off two attackers – your two hands – at the same time. Doesn’t that make it a very useful skill in combat? You can’t double your strength, but you’ve got a great advantage, all the same!”
For Zhou Botong, Competing Hands was simply a game with which to amuse himself, a way to stop himself wilting from boredom as he whiled away the hours he spent stuck in his tiny cave. He had never considered its martial implications.
He digested Guo Jing’s words for a moment and then sprinted out of the cave. He paced and paced, shrieking with laughter.
“Brother?” Guo Jing was worried. “Brother?”
Ignoring Guo Jing, he kept laughing.
Suddenly, he stopped. “I’m leaving, brother. Not to answer the call of nature. I’m leaving! I’ve become the Greatest Martial Master Under the Heavens. Apothecary Huang doesn’t scare me anymore. Why can’t he come here now? I’ll send him flying, like petals on the wind!”
“Are you certain you can beat him?”
“My kung fu may still be a little inferior, but I can split myself in two. I’ll be fighting two against one. No-one under the heavens can beat me again! It matters not how fancy Apothecary Huang, Count Seven Hong or Viper Ouyang’s kung fu skills are. Can they beat two of Zhou Botong the Hoary Urchin?”
Pleased for his sworn brother, Guo Jing agreed that two Zhou Botongs would be rather a handful.
“Little brother, you have a good understanding of the principle behind Competing Hands. You know how to split your attack simultaneously. Keep up your practice. Give the technique time to mature inside you. In a few years, your kung fu will double too. It’s a shame it can’t increase internal strength by even a candareen. We’ll have to split our energy between our hands, but no-one needs to know. We’ll hit them quick and hit them hard, with different moves from each hand. We’ll make their heads spin so fast that they can’t spot the flaw.”
5
FOR FIFTEEN YEARS, ZHOU BOTONG HAD DREADED THE DAY he would have to fight Apothecary Huang again; now, he wished his adversary would appear that instant. He would have sought the Heretic out, if he knew his way around the island’s labyrinthine layout.
Full of impatience, the Hoary Urchin scanned the horizon all day, yet the first person he spotted was the servant approaching with their dinner.
He grabbed the man by the shoulders, shouting, “Bring Apothecary Huang here now! I want to show him my kung fu!”
Petrified, the servant said nothing, just kept shaking his head.
“Fie! I forget you can’t hear me!” He let the man go and turned his attention to the food. “Let’s have a feast tonight!”
The moment Zhou Botong lifted the lid, Guo Jing noticed the aromas were more fragrant than usual. There was a large bowl of his favourite dish, braised chicken with mushrooms. He picked up a spoon and tasted the broth. The delicate hint of salt teased out the sweetness of the chicken. His heart pounded in recognition. Lotus had made this for him.
The servant laid out the dishes. Nothing looked out of the ordinary to Guo Jing, until he clapped eyes on the dozen mantou steamed buns still inside the food carrier. On one of them, a very faint outline of a gourd was scratched onto the surface. He grabbed it and found a wax capsule hidden inside. He dropped it into his shirt pocket before Zhou Botong or the servant noticed anything was amiss.
They ate heartily because of their exertions during the day, but food was the last thing on their minds. Guo Jing gobbled down his dinner as quickly as possible, so he could read Lotus’s message the moment the servant cleared up and left.
Zhou Botong was still coming to terms with the fact that he had accidentally invented an invincible form of kung fu. Absentmindedly, he grabbed a mantou with his right hand while trying out a few boxing moves with his left. He too wanted to finish the meal quickly, so he could return to his training. He started spooning broth and shoving bun into his mouth, and then stopped and laughed when he realised what he was doing.
“One mouth can’t eat from two hands at once!”
From Guo Jing’s perspective, Zhou Botong was taking an exceptionally long time with his meal. But, at long last, his sworn brother was finished with the buns and had gulped down all his soup. The servant packed up the plates and took his leave. Guo Jing took the note out and broke the wax casing.
My dear Guo Jing – he was overcome with joy at seeing Lotus’s elegant handwriting – Papa and I have made up. I’ll beg him to free you. Don’t worry. I can’t come to visit you yet, but I think about you every day. Lotus.
“I’ll make sure the Heretic lets you go,” Zhou Botong said, after reading the message. “He’ll have no choice. And we won’t beg him. We’ll make him. If he refuses, we’ll shut him in this cave for five, no, ten years . . . Actually, no, we won’t lock him up. We don’t want him to come up with some fantastic martial technique like Competing Hands!” Then he wandered off to practise.
Guo Jing sat cross-legged, with his eyes closed, in the fading light, to work on his internal energy. However, Lotus kept stealing into his mind, disturbing the silence and his peace within. It took him much longer than usual to purge all thoughts and worries. Eventually, he was able to channel his qi around his body. Then an idea popped into his head: my internal strength needs to work separately, as two distinct forces, or else the different moves from each hand will contain no substance.
He pressed a finger to one side of his nose and tried breathing with one nostril at a time. He persisted for the duration of one watch. Satisfied with the small improvement he had made, he gradually brought himself back to the present. A gale seemed to be blowing outside. He opened his eyes and saw hair and beard dancing in the n
ight air.
Zhou Botong was practising the seventy-two moves of the Luminous Hollow Fist with his left hand and a Quanzhen Sect palm kung fu with his right hand. Though each move was slow, they parted the air with a whistle, a testament to great strength contained within.
Guo Jing watched in awe. He could sense the instantaneous flow of internal energy through Zhou Botong, switching from his left arm to the right and back again. The actions made by either hand contained his full strength.
Watching the Hoary Urchin practise, he realised his earlier notion of splitting his inner strength into left and right might not work, as the body only contained one set of meridians. But he could try mastering Zhou Botong’s energy-transfer technique, between the two sides of the body. If he could propel his strength quickly, at will, from left to right and back again, which should not be too difficult, he could achieve an effect not dissimilar to adjusting the disposition of troops in the heat of battle.
“Argh!”
A cry ripped through Guo Jing’s concentration. Then he heard a loud smack and caught sight of a long and floppy thing slapping against a tree trunk. When he looked back at Zhou Botong, he was swaying.
“Brother, are you alright?” Guo Jing rushed over to steady the older man.
“I got bitten by a snake. In the foot. Rot!”
Zhou Botong leaned his weight on Guo Jing’s shoulders and hobbled back into the cave. He tore a strip from his shirt and bandaged it tightly around his thigh to slow the venom as it passed up through his veins.
Guo Jing pulled out the flint and tinder from inside his shirt and struck them together for light. His heart skipped a beat. The ruddy, youthful radiance had disappeared from Zhou Botong’s face. The bite had already caused his calf to swell to twice its usual size.
“I’ve never seen any rotten snakes on this island. Where did this viper come from? The little pest wouldn’t have caught me out if I hadn’t been splitting my concentration to work on two . . .”