by Jin Yong
“Chief, we need to know everything. We must hear it from everyone present, even those who have confessed.”
Beads of sweat appeared on Yang Kang’s hairline. He knew he could not block Surefoot Lu’s interrogation, lest it reveal he had something to hide. Yet, if he let Guo Jing speak, his position would be fatally compromised.
Yang Kang’s mind raced as he tried to think of a solution. To his surprise, Surefoot Lu was forced to ask the same question, over and over. Guo Jing did not seem to be hearing a word. He did not even notice his gag had been removed. He simply stared at the night sky, lost in thought.
Lotus watched Yang Kang gesture at the beggar Elders, and the blades were raised once more. If only she could do something to snap Guo Jing out of his daze.
3
Swoooooosh! a purple flame skimmed over the lake. Two flashes of blue flew up into the night sky, several li hence.
Peng and Liang shared a look of surprise and recognition.
“Chief, an important guest has arrived,” Elder Jian announced.
“Who?” Yang Kang snapped.
Jian lowered his voice: “The leader of the Iron Palm Gang.” He would not wish to make the new chief seem ignorant in front of his people.
“Huh?”
“A force to be reckoned with, in this region,” Jian explained patiently. “We must receive our distinguished visitors with utmost courtesy, since the leader has come in person. I fear it would not befit us to be seen with traitors. I suggest we deal with the prisoners later.”
“As you say, Elder Jian. Prepare to receive our honored guest.”
Not long after—boom, boom, boom!—three successive flares painted the sky over Jun Hill a fiery red.
Boats could now be seen on Dongting Lake, approaching the small islet. The beggars, each clutching a torch, waited in reverential anticipation.
Even though the visitors from the Iron Palm Gang were familiar with lightness kung fu, it took them a short while to reach the Terrace of the Yellow Emperor at the summit of Jun Hill.
Guo Jing and Lotus Huang were placed among the followers of the Beggar Clan, watched over by Elder Peng’s men.
Lotus had been observing Guo Jing. The young man was mumbling into the starry night, his eyes glassy and unfocused. He’s gone mad, she thought, before turning her mind to the newcomers. She prayed they might offer a diversion to help them escape.
Surrounded by a blaze of torches, several dozen black-clad fighters led an elderly man to the Terrace. Lotus took one look—arrowroot shirt, palm-leaf fan—and her heart sank.
Qiu Qianren!
Elder Jian strode forward and greeted Qiu Qianren with a show of ceremony. After a short, polite exchange according to the customs of the jianghu, he turned to Yang Kang. “This is Master Qiu of the Iron Palm Gang. His kung fu is feared throughout the wulin.” Then he addressed Qiu Qianren: “Chief Hong has, sadly, passed into the next world. This is Chief Yang, whom we have appointed today as our next leader. He is a true hero of the younger generation. I trust a great new friendship shall blossom between our clans.”
“The pleasure is all mine.” Yang Kang deployed his most charming smile. He remembered this old fraud from Roaming Cloud Manor, but he made sure his face betrayed no hint of recognition.
Everyone regards you as a master, but, with this hand, I will show the world your charlatan ways, Yang Kang thought, as he reached out to greet him. He was eager to take this chance to show the beggars that a man of true prowess was now in command.
Qiu Qianren took his outstretched palm. At that moment, Yang Kang charged it with all his internal energy.
It was as if Yang Kang had wrapped his fingers over a piece of red-hot coal. He pulled, but he could not free himself. The pain traveled up to his heart. He doubled over. Two streams of tears flowed down his pale cheeks.
The four beggar Elders leaped to Yang Kang’s aid.
Elder Jian, the most senior in age and rank, struck the end of his steel staff on the stone-paved ground in warning. Sparks flew.
“Master Qiu, you are our guest,” he said, struggling to contain the rage in his voice. “And Chief Yang is young. What compelled you to test his martial training thus?”
“I took his hand in courtesy,” Qiu Qianren replied, his voice frosty, still maintaining his grip. Then he paused and let his strength flow back down and through his hand. Yang Kang yelped in agony. “It is your honorable chief who wished to test me.” He stopped speaking again and Yang Kang squealed once more. “Chief Yang was intent on crushing my old bones.” Yet again, Yang Kang’s shrieks punctuated his words.
Having said his piece, Qiu Qianren flung Yang Kang’s hand away. Now barely conscious, the young man collapsed. Surefoot Lu caught him just before he hit the ground.
“Master Qiu, what—?”
Qiu Qianren swung his palm at Elder Jian’s face.
With both hands, Jian thrust his staff forward, intending to parry the move, and Qiu grabbed at the head of the weapon. Even before Qiu’s fingers had fully closed around the metal pole, an uncanny force was pushing it down and wresting it out of Jian’s grasp.
Tightening his grip, the beggar, whose martial skills were not inconsequential, managed to hold on.
Just then, the air parted on Jian’s left side.
Bong!
Qiu hewed at the midpoint of the staff with his free hand. The force of the blow was sufficient to tear away the skin between Jian’s thumb and forefinger.
Jian had no energy left in his blood-soaked hands to cling to the staff.
Qiu snatched the weapon and swung it, using its tip to whisk away Elder Peng’s saber and Elder Liang’s sword. Then he drew the staff to his side. The simple movement sent his elbow squarely into Surefoot Lu’s face.
In mere moments, Qiu Qianren had beaten back all Four Elders of the Beggar Clan. Shocked, the rest of the beggars clutched their weapons. They were ready to mobilize against the Iron Palm Gang. All it would take was one word from their chief.
Holding one end of the staff with both hands, Qiu Qianren flung it at a distant boulder. The steel pole pierced the rock, and the drawn-out clang of metal against stone filled the stunned silence.
Lotus Huang could not believe her eyes. Was the old cheat really so accomplished, after all? It was him all right, his features illuminated by the blazing torches and the full moon above.
He must be in league with Yang Kang and Elder Jian, she thought, searching for an explanation. The staff—there is something queer about it. Another trick.
She turned to Guo Jing. He was still staring at the sky.
Could the night’s events have driven him mad? Why else would he be studying the heavens when there was a fight playing out, right before their eyes? Perhaps, in struggling to reconcile his duty to marry Khojin and his love for Lotus, he had taken leave of his senses? Forced to keep a close watch on her beloved, Lotus was unable to closely follow Qiu Qianren’s antics.
But, after standing in silence for some time, Qiu Qianren spoke, drawing her eyes toward him. “Like the water in the river and the water in the well, the Iron Palm Gang and the Beggar Clan have never crossed paths. I came here in good faith. I do not understand why I was greeted with such a provocation.”
Elder Jian was relieved to find restraint in Qiu Qianren’s words, in spite of the iciness of his tone.
“A misunderstanding, Master Qiu,” he replied, a tremble of fear discernible in his voice. “Your mighty reputation spreads across the four seas, and we, the brothers of the Beggar Clan, have always admired you and held you in the highest esteem. It is our greatest honor that you deigned to grace our Clan Assembly with your presence. Each and every one of us here wishes you only the warmest welcome. Not one of us would dream of treating you with disrespect.”
Qiu Qianren held his head high and said nothing. He let the uncomfortable moment simmer before responding. “What a shame that Chief Hong has passed through to the immortal realm. The martial world will be poorer for his loss. An
d what a pity that the famous Beggar Clan has appointed this young man as its new chief.”
The Elders looked at each other, unsure how to reply. Yang Kang had, by now, regained consciousness. Of course, he was maddened by the insult, yet what could he do but swallow the humiliation? His hand still felt as if it were being held over a raging fire, and his fingers were swollen like thick batons of Chinese yam.
Ignoring his awkward hosts, Qiu Qianren continued, “In truth, there is a matter that brought me here today. And I also come bearing gifts.”
“We look forward to learning how we can be of assistance,” Elder Jian said with exaggerated humility.
“The other day, I sent a few young men to run some errands for me. Somehow, they managed to vex two of our friends of the Beggar Clan and were badly beaten. I cannot deny that their martial training was rudimentary, but if this encounter were to become known in the jianghu … well, the Iron Palm Gang can ill afford to lose face in such a manner. So, I ask you to humor this aged fellow, for I have come all this way to learn from these two kinsmen of the Beggar Clan.”
“Who were the culprits?” Yang Kang cried. “Step forward and beg Master Qiu’s forgiveness. Now!” It did not cross his mind that he had a duty to safeguard the well-being of those he claimed to lead. The last thing he wished to do was upset Qiu Qianren even further.
The vagrants bristled at their new chief’s cowardly response. Count Seven Hong would have never subjected them to such an injustice.
Once more, Vigor Li and Prosper Yu emerged from the crowd.
“Chief, allow me to speak,” Vigor Li said. “The fourth rule of our Clan states that each and every one of the clansmen should always act according to the moral code of xia. They must be righteous, deliver those in suffering, and aid those in hardship.
“Several days ago, Prosper Yu and I came upon our friends from the Iron Palm Gang as they were attempting to abduct a household of honest women. We could not stand by and let this act of depravity take place, so we intervened.”
“It doesn’t matter what happened. Ask Master Qiu for his forgiveness,” Yang Kang demanded.
Vigor Li and Prosper Yu glanced at each other. If they refused, they would be defying their chief, but how could they tarnish their good names by seeking pardon from a wrongdoer?
“Brethren, if Chief Hong were still alive, he would never allow us to suffer such an indignity. I would rather die than be so abused!” Vigor Li appealed to his fellow members before pulling a blade from the rags he was wearing and plunging it into his heart. Prosper Yu knelt over him, retrieved the knife, and turned it on himself, his body falling lifeless over that of his comrade.
The beggars were seething with rage. Much as they would have liked to unleash carnage on the Iron Palm Gang, they could not break the hallowed rule of unconditional obedience to the chief.
A faint smile crept across Qiu Qianren’s face. “Since the first matter has resolved itself quickly, allow me to present this to the Beggar Clan.”
Qiu’s men opened the chests they had brought with them, removing several dozen trays of gold, silver and glittering jewels. One by one, they were set down before Yang Kang.
The Beggar Clan had never seen such a dazzling display of wealth.
“The Iron Palm Gang keeps its bellies full, but we could never have put together such a lavish gift ourselves,” Qiu Qianren smirked. “I have been entrusted by the Sixth Prince of the Great Jin Empire to bring this to you.”
“Where is the Prince? I should like to meet him.” Yang Kang was overjoyed at this mention of his father.
“The Prince’s herald came to my abode several months ago with this offering and a message for the Beggar Clan.”
So, Papa arranged this before he came south? Why does he want to court a bunch of beggars? He’s never before mentioned any plans to bring them onto our side. Yang Kang nodded at Qiu Qianren to indicate that he was interested in hearing more.
“The Prince of Zhao has long admired the heroes of the Beggar Clan and bade me to personally proffer this token of friendship on his behalf.”
“We are overwhelmed by the honor,” Yang Kang gushed.
“Chief Yang, I must say, you are far more understanding than your old Chief Hong.” A hollow laugh.
“Master Qiu, I wonder if the Prince shared any specific instructions?” Yang Kang was desperate to find out more.
“Who would be so presumptuous as to issue instructions to the great Beggar Clan? The Prince once mentioned in passing that the north, with its impoverished people and barren lands, is not quite the ground for realizing grand visions—”
“The Prince would like us to move to the south?”
“Chief Yang is most perceptive, and I must admit that I have been lacking in manners. The Prince did tell me that he could not fathom why the Beggar Clan are so partial to the bitter cold of the north, when the regions of Jiangnan and Huguang in the south enjoy such a pleasant climate and such great wealth.”
“We are most grateful to receive guidance from the Prince and Master Qiu. It would be improper of us not to heed it.”
Qiu Qianren had not expected his task to be so easy.
This new young chief did not show even the merest hint of reluctance, he observed with surprise. Perhaps because of the fright I have given him. Still, the beggars have been based in the north for generations, are they really so easily persuaded to uproot themselves? What if they change their minds, after I’ve left? I should make him promise.
Yang Kang seemed to have guessed Qiu’s mind. “Today, I, Chief Yang, hereby give my word that the Beggar Clan will retreat south of the Yangtze River, and will never traverse those waters for the north again.”
“Chief, allow me to speak,” Surefoot Lu interjected. “We are beggars and we live on alms. Our numbers can be counted in the hundreds and thousands, our clansfolk are scattered across Song Empire lands, free to roam according to our will. Why should we be confined? I entreat the chief to think the matter thrice over.”
“If we refuse this gesture of goodwill from Master Qiu, it will make us appear discourteous.” By now, Yang Kang had grasped his father Wanyan Honglie’s motives. The Beggar Clan had been a persistent nuisance to the Jin Empire north of the Yangtze River. Every time the Jurchen army marched south to attack the Song, the beggars would disrupt the rear guard, kill commanders, and burn food supplies. If the pests moved south, it would smooth the way for the Jin to conquer the Song.
“I shan’t take a single thing for myself,” he said, gesturing to the riches on display. “Elders, please divide this handsome bounty among our brethren—”
Surefoot Lu could not believe his ears. “Chief Hong is known by all throughout and beyond the Empire as the Beggar of the North. Furthermore, we, the members of the Beggar Clan, are righteous and loyal to our country and its ruler, the Song Emperor. We have been at odds with the Jurchen for generations. We cannot accept anything from those people. Never will we be forced south of the Yangtze. Never, never, never!”
Taking note of Yang Kang’s darkening countenance, Elder Peng said, “Is it your responsibility, or the chief’s, to make decisions for the Clan?”
“I shall meet my death before I go against what I know to be right,” Surefoot Lu declared with pride.
“Elder Jian, Elder Peng, Elder Liang, what say you?” Yang Kang asked.
Jian and Liang both thought it unwise to move south, but Peng harbored no such hesitation. “As a subordinate, I always follow the chief’s command.”
His words unleashed uproar among the gathered beggars.
Yang Kang was at a loss as to how to calm the angry mob. The Elders of the Washed shouted for order, but few heeded them, as the most riotous among the crowd were the Unwashed.
“Elder Lu, do you mean to defy your chief?” Peng demanded.
“I would rather be cut into a thousand pieces than deceive my elders or defy my chief. But neither would I, Surefoot Lu, ever turn my back on the principles that have been passed down
by the Clan’s forefathers. The Jurchen are invaders of our realm. The Jurchen are killers of our kin. Their Jin state is the enemy of the land of my birth, the Song Empire. Have you forgotten our allegiance—our duty—as Chief Hong often reminded us?”
Jian and Liang lowered their heads, mortified.
Qiu Qianren scoffed. “Chief Yang, this Elder Lu of yours must learn to hold his tongue.” He made a grab for the beggar’s shoulders.
Noting how Qiu Qianren was subtly shifting his weight as he spoke, Surefoot Lu ducked down, shot between Qiu’s parted legs and whipped around with three kicks at Qiu’s backside, before straightening up.
True to his name, Surefoot Lu was swift and certain on his feet.
Qiu Qianren had never come upon a kung fu so undignified. Having recovered his composure, he suddenly sensed the air parting behind him. He spun around and thrust a palm.
The counterattack forced Surefoot Lu to wrench his foot away. The beggar’s kicks may well have landed, but the force of Qiu’s palm would have shattered his leg.
Flipping into an awkward somersault, Lu landed next to Qiu and spat. Qiu cocked his head, avoiding the phlegm. Once again, he was puzzled by the unorthodox nature of the attack.
“Enough!” Yang Kang barked.
Surefoot Lu took two steps back, but Qiu Qianren was not going to let the affront pass. He lunged, hoping to close his hands around Lu’s throat like a pair of iron clamps.
The beggar sprung into a backflip, but Qiu caught him by the wrists.
Surefoot Lu knew he had lost, but he was not one to give in without a fight.
He heaved. Pushed Qiu back.
Nothing. Not an inch.
He hunkered down and rammed into Qiu Qianren’s stomach.
Surefoot Lu had trained in Bronze Hammer kung fu since he was a child, and could easily make a dent in a wall with one butt of his head. In a wager with a Clan brother, he had once locked horns with a bull. He emerged unscathed; the bull, unconscious.
The slam would not cause injury, but Lu thought it would at least be enough to rock the other man back on his heels, allowing him to free himself. But, as his forehead connected with Qiu’s abdomen, he felt no resistance. It was as if he had run headlong into a bale of cotton. He pulled back, alarmed. To his horror, he seemed to have drawn Qiu Qianren closer to him.