by Jin Yong
The Hoary Urchin’s booming voice was beginning to tremble. Guo Jing surmised his sworn brother was still conscious only because his advanced internal kung fu had slowed the poison’s progress. He needed to stop it from spreading. He could only think of one way.
He bent over and sucked on the wound.
“No! Don’t . . . You’ll die.” Zhou Botong wanted to struggle, but he could barely feel his body and soon blacked out.
The only thing on Guo Jing’s mind right now was saving his sworn brother. After nearly half an hour, he had managed to draw out the majority of the venom and spit it out onto the ground.
An hour later, Zhou Botong came to and croaked out what he thought were his last words: “I won’t live to see tomorrow. I’m very happy to have a caring little brother like you.”
Tears rolled down Guo Jing’s cheeks. He had only known this brother for a matter of days, but he felt they had been best friends for decades. He could not believe the Hoary Urchin was about to die.
“The Nine Yin Manual is buried in a stone casket, just here, where I’m lying. It should be yours, but you won’t live through the night after sucking out my poison. Well, we’ll travel down to the underworld together. At least we’ll never be bored. We can still do our four-man fights. No, four-ghost fights!” He cackled, his grief turning to demented elation. “I bet you the ghosts down there have never seen anything like it!”
Guo Jing was bemused by the talk of his death. He felt absolutely fine. He lit another match. A blackness shrouded Zhou Botong’s face, extinguishing the childlike glow.
Noticing the light, Zhou Botong smiled at Guo Jing, then sucked in a mouthful of air in surprise. “How come you aren’t affected by the poison at all? What magical panacea have you taken?”
That reminded Guo Jing of Greybeard Liang. “Perhaps it’s the python blood I once drank? Maybe it’s given me a resistance to snake venom?”
Zhou Botong gave it some thought, but before long he passed out again. Guo Jing massaged and pressed his acupressure points, but he could not elicit any response from his sworn brother. He felt around the wound. It burned like fire and the leg had swollen up even more.
Then Guo Jing heard his brother murmur:
“For the fourth time the loom is ready,
To weave a pair of lovebirds so they can take flight . . .”
“Brother, what did you say?”
“Pity the hair that grows grey before its time, pity . . .”
The poison had made the Hoary Urchin delirious.
Guo Jing sprinted out of the cave, scaled the tallest tree and shouted into the night, “Lotus! Lotus! Lord Huang! Lord Huang! Help, please! Help!”
But his voice reached no-one. Peach Blossom Island covered several dozen li, and Apothecary Huang’s quarters were a long way away.
Hearing no response, Guo Jing rushed back to the cave with a desperate idea.
I’m not affected. Maybe my blood can repel the poison.
He groped around in the dark and found Zhou Botong’s celadon drinking bowl on the ground. With the golden dagger given to him by Genghis Khan, he cut his left arm and held it over the bowl. The wound soon congealed and he made another cut.
Once the bowl was filled, Guo Jing shifted Zhou Botong, resting his sworn brother’s head on his knees. He wrenched open his jaw and poured the blood into his mouth.
Weakened by the loss of so much blood, Guo Jing slumped against the wall of the cave and soon dozed off. He was woken by a slight pain on his arm, with no idea of how long he had been asleep.
Someone was dressing the wound.
He opened his eyes to a mass of dark hair.
“You – you’re alive!” Guo Jing blinked.
“Yes! I’m fine now! You gave your life to save mine. The Ghosts of Impermanence were most annoyed. I reckon they won’t be back for my soul for a good while,” Zhou Botong said, as he showed off his swollen leg, no longer blackened by the poison.
6
THIS BROTHER OF MINE IS A SELFLESS SOUL. HE SUCKED THE poison from my wound knowing that it could kill him. For some reason, he didn’t die and neither did I! How do I repay this gift of life? I haven’t got any more kung fu to teach him.
This conundrum troubled Zhou Botong all day, until he went to bed.
When Double Sun Wang Chongyang took the Nine Yin Manual, it was not to benefit himself, but to curb its destructive influence on the wulin. As such, he declared that no disciple of the Quanzhen Sect should ever practise the kung fu within. Of course, Zhou Botong lived firmly by his martial brother’s instruction, but he also could not forget Madam Huang’s words: “Your martial brother said you couldn’t learn, but he didn’t say you couldn’t look, did he?”
Over the fifteen years of captivity inside the cave on Peach Blossom Island, Zhou Botong had no other books with him and nothing to do. Flicking through the Manual was one way to pass the time, so, having read it countless times, he now knew it back to front.
The first volume detailed key Taoist theories about cultivating internal strength, as well as principles of fist and sword kung fu. The second volume contained all kinds of strange and wonderful martial skills. Everything from methods of training for them to the ways to defeat them. He knew that Madam Huang had been lying to him when she called it a book of divination and fortune telling.
Obsessed with the martial arts as he was, Zhou Botong was desperate to learn the kung fu within. He had no ambition to be hailed as the greatest martial artist in the world or to use the skills to avenge the wrongs he had suffered. He was purely driven by a curiosity and a passion for all things martial. He wanted to feel with his body how powerful the kung fu in the Manual was.
He knew the moves within must be magical. After all, Huang Shang read the whole of The Taoist Canon of Ten Thousand Longevities – a total of five thousand, four hundred and eighty-one volumes – and spent forty years thinking through ways to overpower all the kung fu he had encountered. He had also heard how Twice Foul Dark Wind terrorised the jianghu with just two sets of martial arts from the second volume. Imagine if he were to learn everything recorded within its pages!
Though he had read and thought about the Manual every day over the past decade and a half, he had never tried ro replicate the moves described, out of respect for his martial brother.
And yet, he longed to see the Manual in action.
The next morning, a brainwave came to Zhou Botong as he awoke: Guo Jing isn’t officially a disciple of the Quanzhen Sect – I can teach him the Nine Yin Manual! Once he’s learned everything, he can show them to me, one by one. He will have acquired the most powerful kung fu known to the martial world, and I will at last satisfy my curiosity without disobeying my martial brother’s last wish!
Congratulating himself, he chuckled out loud. “Yes! This is the perfect plan!”
“What plan?”
Zhou Botong grinned, ready to reveal his grand idea. Then he remembered how Guo Jing had denounced the Manual as evil, because of Twice Foul Dark Wind.
I can teach him without telling him! Another moment of inspiration struck the Hoary Urchin. He hates the Manual because he’s only seen the lowly moves Twice Foul Dark Wind learned from the second volume. He doesn’t know that the cultivation of qi is described in the first volume. He doesn’t know the Manual is about proper, honourable martial practice. I’ll only tell him once he’s learned it all. Then, he can throw as many tantrums as he wants, but he can’t make his body forget the moves he’s acquired!
Zhou Botong cared little if people loved him or hated him, insulted him or praised him. Nothing made him as happy as a good prank – and learning kung fu. He put on a serious face and set his scheme into motion.
“Brother, I’ve invented many other kung fu techniques during these years stuck in this cave. What do you say, shall I share a little more? We haven’t got much else to do, anyway.”
“It’s so kind of you to offer, but Lotus said she’s thinking of a way to free us.”
“Well, has she freed us yet?”
“Er . . . no.”
“Can’t you learn a few more moves while you wait?”
“Of course!”
Don’t be so eager! You’ve fallen straight into my trap! Zhou Botong was crying with laughter inside. He reassured himself repeatedly: his victim would benefit enormously and no-one would be hurt in the process.
Putting on his most solemn face, the Hoary Urchin began with the first volume of the Nine Yin Manual, selecting a few Taoist theories to share with Guo Jing. Naturally, the young man struggled to comprehend them, but Zhou Botong found within him a well of patience he did not realise he possessed, and he explained everything in slow and painful detail.
Once the basics were covered, Zhou Botong moved on to the second volume, which detailed training methods and countermeasures for a variety of kung fu. Before each lesson, he would step aside to look over the Manual to refresh his memory, but he made sure he kept well out of sight, in case Guo Jing grew suspicious.
Martial arts had never been taught in such a way before – or since. The instructor himself did not know the moves. He would only illustrate them verbally, and never once lifted a hand to demonstrate.
Once Guo Jing had grasped a few moves from the Manual, Zhou Botong would spar with him using Quanzhen kung fu. It was giddying to experience its power. The Hoary Urchin noted that the techniques recorded in the Manual were often superior to his own Quanzhen skills.
Even after Guo Jing had been learning the kung fu from the Nine Yin Manual for several days, he never once suspected the source of the martial knowledge. Delighted with how everything was going, Zhou Botong had taken to chuckling in his sleep.
At meal times, there was always one of Guo Jing’s favourite dishes, lovingly prepared by Lotus. Though she had yet to visit him, the gesture was reassuring. He could devote himself wholeheartedly to learning kung fu.
Things got interesting when Zhou Botong had Guo Jing try out the All-Shattering Grip. The young man was told to focus his spirit, channel his qi, then tear at the rock face with his fingers.
After several attempts, Guo Jing turned to Zhou Botong. “Brother, is this from the Nine Yin Manual? I’ve seen Cyclone Mei doing something similar. She did it on a living person, plunging her fingers into the skull – it was savage!”
“How can you compare Cyclone Mei’s infernal move with my orthodox invention? There are often similar forms in kung fu, but their roots differ. That’s what truly matters!”
Zhou Botong made a mental note to stay away from this move. At the same time, he pitied Cyclone Mei for her misunderstanding and ignorance of the Manual’s gifts.
What a silly woman! he thought. Yes, the text does say, Strength courses through the fingers, no matter can stand in their way. Shattering the skull of the enemy, as if clawing through rotten earth. It’s a metaphor rather than a literal instruction! You’re not meant to plunge your fingers through your enemy’s skull!
The first volume of the Nine Yin Manual clearly explained that it was founded on the Taoist concepts of harmony, selflessness and union with nature, and that the kung fu within was supposed to expel evil and nourish life.
Some brutal moves were recorded within its pages because, in order to learn the countermeasures, it was important to first gain a thorough knowledge of their dark intricacies. Of course, as Cyclone Mei had never seen the first volume, she did not realise she had spent her life learning something twisted and mistaken.
“Let’s try some internal kung fu exercises.” Zhou Botong knew this would take Guo Jing’s mind off Cyclone Mei, for now. He quoted the opening lines of the Manual and got the young man to repeat after him until he had learned them by heart. Once Guo Jing had a firm grasp on the first volume, it would give him a foundation that would make the kung fu from the second volume a natural progression. He would not associate anything with Cyclone Mei again.
Guo Jing had little understanding of the meaning of the passage he had just committed to memory. Each sentence was so complex and each character imbued with so much resonance. In his incomprehension, he told Zhou Botong how Count Seven Hong had instructed him to learn the theories behind the Dragon-Subduing Palm by heart and not worry about their meanings or applications yet – as they were also too complicated for his understanding.
This method was perfect for Zhou Botong’s purposes. So, over the next few days, he read the Manual to Guo Jing, line by line. The young man parroted the words over and over again, several dozen times, until they were engraved on his mind. Soon, Guo Jing could recite a good portion of the martial tract, though he could fathom only a fraction of it.
They reached the final part of the Manual, a section of incomprehensible incantation-like sounds, over a thousand characters long. Zhou Botong had read it hundreds of times, but could not make head nor tail of it. Still, he was going to make Guo Jing learn the gibberish by heart. Perhaps, by then, he would have worked out how to explain the passage to the young man.
Zhou Botong patiently fed his little brother the text in bite-sized chunks. If he pushed a few extra characters, the young man would forget what he had already learned. Guo Jing swallowed it whole, without comment, but even his docile mind began to wonder at its meaning.
“The intent of the heavens shall not yet be revealed,” Zhou Botong replied cryptically. “You just need to learn it.”
Memorising this cluster of meaningless characters was a hundred times harder than getting to grips with any of the moves or martial theories. But Guo Jing always met challenges head on. Everything he had learned, he had learned through hard graft, without questioning its meaning or purpose. It was the only way he knew. Though there was no semantic anchor to latch on to, he read the passage out loud – mahaparas gatekras hahoramanpayas – a thousand times, until the sounds became an inseparable part of him.
Once Guo Jing had learned the whole Manual by heart, Zhou Botong guided him through the cultivation of internal strength, according to the methods described in the first volume. As the Hoary Urchin predicted, nothing reminded Guo Jing of Cyclone Mei’s Nine Yin Manual again.
To Guo Jing, this new training was in the same vein as what he had been taught by Ma Yu, only more complex and harder to grasp. Somehow, it made sense to him. After all, Zhou Botong was Ma Yu’s martial uncle, so naturally his martial knowledge would be more advanced. Also, in the back of his mind, he remembered Cyclone Mei’s questions about Taoist neigong secrets as she rode on his shoulders while they fought together at the Prince of Zhao’s residence. Because of her ignorance of all matters Taoist, there was nothing to link what Zhou Botong was making him recite with the Nine Yin Manual as he had seen it in action.
Guo Jing did notice a twinkle in his sworn brother’s eye during the lessons, but he dismissed it as the Hoary Urchin being his mischievous self. Little did he know he was the victim of an elaborate prank.
When Guo Jing had finished his morning’s training, he opened the tiffin and found a mantou bun lightly marked with a gourd. He grabbed it and headed into the woods.
Guo Jing, the Venom of the West has asked Papa for my hand, on behalf of his nephew. Papa gave his con— The note broke off. It had been scrunched up hastily into the wax pellet.
It was clear to Guo Jing that the incomplete word was “consent”. He showed the message to Zhou Botong, once the servant was gone, but his brother was not remotely interested.
“It’s no business of ours if the Heretic decides to marry her off, or to whom.”
“But she only wants to be with me! She must be devastated.”
“Once you are in thrall to a woman, you are barred from a whole world of wonderful martial discoveries.” For once, Zhou Botong hesitated over his next words. “I . . . I’ve always regretted it. My good brother, trust me, it’s far better to stay away.”
Guo Jing was exasperated. His sworn brother would not offer any help. He just kept droning on. “If I still had my virginity, I’d have learned some really amazing kung fu from my marti
al brother. The Heretic wouldn’t have been able to hold me on this rotten island.
“Look at yourself now, the thought of that girl has driven you to distraction. You won’t achieve anything with your practice today. If you really end up marrying the Heretic’s daughter . . .” He sighed dramatically.
“Pity. What a pity! Back then, I just . . . There’s no point talking about it. Just believe me, if a woman gets her claws into you, you won’t get far with your kung fu. And, if that’s not bad enough, you’ll also end up double-crossing your friends . . .
“And offending my brother. They wouldn’t kill me. They wanted to give her to me. Of course, I couldn’t take her. But, having refused her, I couldn’t get her out of my mind . . . I wonder how she’s . . .
“Trust me. Don’t look at a woman’s face. And don’t ever touch a woman’s body. Never teach them about acupressure points. Never let them touch yours. It’s a trap . . .
“Never ever take a wife. Never, never, never . . .”
Guo Jing was fed up with Zhou Botong’s rambling. “Whether or not we get married, that’s another matter. But you have to help me rescue her first!”
“The Venom of the West is a nasty piece of work. I suspect his nephew is cut from the same cloth. The Heretic’s daughter is pretty, but I bet she’s like her old man. The Venom’s nephew is going to have a tough time if he marries her. And he’ll never be able to practise any kung fu that requires a pure body. It’ll kill two birds with one stone. He’ll end up with the worst of both worlds!” Zhou Botong said with relish.
Groaning with frustration, Guo Jing stalked into the woods.
I will find her, he promised himself. I don’t care if I die along the way, I will find her.
A screech echoed in the trees. Two white dots swooped from the sky. The condors! Guo Jing waved at them.
When they landed, he noticed a bamboo tube was tied to one of the condors’ talons.
Untying it quickly, he opened the container to find another note from Lotus, written in haste.
The Venom of the West would soon arrive with his nephew, and her papa was keeping a close eye on her, forbidding her to cook for Guo Jing or to leave her quarters. If she could not find a way out of this predicament, she would take her life to stay true to her love.