by Jin Yong
Qiu Chuji deflected them with the spinning censer, but he was surprised by their weight and the accuracy of Ke Zhen’e’s aim. These weapons were unique to Ke Zhen’e, with points shaped like bat wings, only sharper, and quite unlike the round water chestnuts that grew in his hometown around South Lake. Ke had learned to use them before he was blinded.
The other Freaks had cleared the way. Gilden Quan continued shouting instructions, using points of the wheel from the I’Ching to denote directions. “Towards the Inner Truth, and the Radiance. Good. Now he’s at the Darkening Light.” After so many years of practice, it was as if the martial brothers were seeing with the same pair of eyes. Gilden Quan was the only one of the Freaks who could guide him in this way.
Within seconds Ke Zhen’e had fired a dozen iron devilnuts, forcing Qiu Chuji back as he fended them off. But still the Taoist was unharmed.
He can hear Brother Quan’s instructions as well as I can and can prepare, it suddenly occurred to Ke Zhen’e. No wonder I’m not hitting him. Gilden Quan’s voice was fading, and in between calls Ke could hear his brother moaning from the pain. He had not heard anything from Brother Zhang in a while. He could not even be sure he was still alive.
“The Fellowship . . . Aim . . .”
But instead Ke Zhen’e threw four devilnuts at once, two at the Self-Restraint and the Diminishing to the right of the Fellowship, and the other two at the Abundance and Radiance positions on the left.
Qiu Chuji stepped to the left in anticipation of Gilden Quan’s instructions.
At that moment, two yelps.
One of the devilnuts struck Qiu Chuji’s right shoulder. Ke Zhen’e fired another in the direction of the Diminishing and instead hit Jade Han in the back.
The blow did not hurt exactly, but Qiu Chuji started to feel numb in his upper arm. Poison! he realised in surprise. A chill spread to Qiu Chuji’s heart, but rather than surrender, he drew all his last strength and launched himself at Woodcutter Nan.
Woodcutter Nan saw the attack coming, planted his feet firmly, and taking up his carrying pole blocked the Taoist with a Lock Across the River. But rather than withdraw his attack, Qiu Chuji struck the centre of the pole with a hai! Vibrations shot through Nan, tearing the skin between his thumb and forefinger on both hands. Blood spurted everywhere and the pole fell to the ground with a loud clatter. The punch caused Nan serious internal injuries, his legs shook and spots flickered before his eyes. A sweet, metallic taste gurgled in his throat, and scarlet spit stained his clothes as he coughed.
Qiu Chuji was losing sensation in his shoulder and was struggling to keep the censer aloft. Once again gathering his qi, he performed a sweeping kick, which Ryder Han jumped.
“Where are you going?” Qiu Chuji cried, tipping the censer over. Ryder Han tried to back flip in mid-air, but it came straight for him. He wrapped his head in his arms and curled into a ball. The censer crashed onto the floor, trapping him inside.
Qiu Chuji drew his sword. With a tap of the foot, he shot straight up and sliced through the rope attaching the giant bell to the ceiling. It must have weighed over one thousand jin, but Qiu Chuji guided it with the gentlest of pushes. The room shook as it landed on top of the censer. There was no way Ryder Han could escape now.
Qiu Chuji was a little sore after these exertions, and beads of sweat the size of soybeans clung to his forehead.
“Throw down your sword!” Ke Zhen’e cried. “Or you won’t leave here alive.”
But the evil monk Scorched Wood was colluding with the Jin and keeping women hidden in his temple, and Qiu Chuji was inclined to believe the Seven Freaks were not much better. Not everyone could be deserving of their reputation. Qiu Chuji would rather die than bow before these traitors and surrender. He held his sword high.
Only Ke Zhen’e and Zhu Cong were still capable of fighting. Using his staff, Ke Zhen’e blocked the exit.
Qiu Chuji was determined to get out. He thrust his sword at Ke Zhen’e’s face, but Flying Bat Ke sensed the whoosh! of air as the sword approached. Sword and staff interlocked, and to his surprise, Qiu Chuji nearly lost his weapon. Is the blind man’s inner strength more powerful than mine? He withdrew his sword and tried once more, and was met yet again with the staff. Only now did he realise how much power he had lost in his right shoulder; it was not that Ke was particularly strong, but rather that he, Qiu Chuji, was growing weaker. He swapped his sword to his left hand and performed a move he had learned as a young student but had never before used in combat: the Sword of Mutual Demise. With a flash of the blade, he struck simultaneously at Ke Zhen’e, Zhu Cong and Scorched Wood’s vital points.
The move was a tacit acknowledgement of relative weakness, and involved aiming at an enemy’s acupressure points. It took great skill, but nevertheless utilised the same essential techniques as common street scraps between bandits and hooligans. Many years previously, the Quanzhen Sect faced a particularly fierce adversary who had lived many years in the untamed west. Only their shifu could have defeated him, but he had long since passed away. The Seven Masters knew this man alone could destroy their sect and they feared his return to the Middle Kingdom. They did have one move against him, the Plough Formation, but it required all seven Masters at once to be effective. The Sword of Mutual Demise was designed for lone combat against precisely this great master of kung fu. The strategy was to ensure his death through one’s own, as a sacrifice to protect one’s brothers. Qiu Chuji would not normally need to use such an extreme move on the Seven Freaks, but he was growing weaker from the poison. It was time to make use of his Master’s greatest lesson.
Ten moves into the sequence, Ke Zhen’e was hit in the leg.
“Brother Ke, Brother Zhu, why not let the Taoist go?” Scorched Wood cried, distracting Ke Zhen’e long enough for Qiu to strike him in the ribs. Ke fell, screaming in pain.
Qiu Chuji was struggling to keep his balance. The whites of Zhu Cong’s eyes were shot through with blood, but he continued to fight, shouting and insulting Qiu Chuji as he circled him. Ke Zhen’e could not place the sound made by the Taoist’s sword, and he was caught again, this time in the right leg. Ke Zhen’e toppled forward with a thud.
“You dog, you dirty Taoist!” Zhu Cong shouted. “The poison will soon reach your heart. You’ll see.”
Qiu Chuji’s brow scrunched with rage and he stumbled at Zhu Cong, clutching his sword in his left hand. But Zhu Cong was trained in lightness kung fu. He took off, flying around the Great Hall, bouncing off the many statues of the Buddha dotted around it.
Qiu Chuji stopped, panting. His strength was waning, his vision becoming blurred. His focus turned to finding an escape route.
Then, a thud.
One of Zhu Cong’s cloth shoes hit him with considerable force in the back.
Qiu Chuji swayed, and a blanket of mist clouded his eyes. He was losing consciousness.
Thud!
This time it hit him against the back of the head: a wooden fish, one of the percussive instruments the monks used while chanting the scriptures. Zhu Cong had found it by one of the Buddhas. Such a powerful blow to the head would have killed most people, but Qiu Chuji had spent years training his inner strength. But this time his vision went black. This is it, he said to himself. Master Eternal Spring has today met his fate at the hands of these shameless villains! His legs buckled, and he collapsed to the floor.
Zhu Cong approached Qiu Chuji and stretched his fan to tap the pressure point in the centre of his chest. At that moment, Qiu Chuji’s left hand twitched. Zhu Cong knew he was in trouble. He blocked his heart with his right arm, but felt a force in his abdomen that sent him backwards, blood spraying from his mouth. He landed with a crash.
Qiu Chuji could barely move.
THE OTHER monks of Fahua Temple were not practised in kung fu and had been ignorant of their Abbot’s skills, choosing to flee rather than take part. But since silence had descended upon the Great Hall, the bravest among them ventured to peek inside, only to see the floor stre
wn with bodies and the hall painted in blood. Horrified, they ran to find Justice Duan.
Justice Duan was still hiding in the cellar. That the fight had turned out to be so bloody only pleased him, and he sent one of the monks back to check if the Taoist was among the injured, or perhaps even dead. Only once the monk had returned to report that Qiu Chuji was lying motionless, his eyes shut, did Duan feel safe enough to emerge with Lily Li.
He approached Qiu Chuji and prodded him with his foot. The Taoist replied with an almost imperceptible moan. He was still alive. Duan pulled the dagger from his belt and leaned in. “You filthy Taoist!” he snarled. “You’ve chased and harassed me. Today I take my revenge. Prepare to join your friends in the next world.”
“You mustn’t hurt him,” Scorched Wood called from where he lay.
“Why not?”
“He’s a good man. Just a little short-tempered,” Scorched Wood said. “There was a misunderstanding.”
Justice Duan scoffed and aimed his dagger at Qiu Chuji’s face. Qiu Chuji’s eyes remained closed, but unbeknownst to Duan, he was gathering his qi. With a sudden movement he struck at Duan’s shoulder, cracking the bones with a deafening crunch. Duan’s dagger spun across the floor.
Scorched Wood summoned the last of his strength and threw the piece of burnt wood in his hand at Duan. Duan tried to duck, but he was too slow, and the lump of wood struck him in the corner of the mouth, knocking three teeth clean out of his gums. The pain was intense and Duan was furious. He snatched the dagger from the floor, and ran at the Abbot, aiming the blade at his head. One of the younger monks grabbed him by the arm and another around the neck. Enraged, Duan turned the knife on them.
Qiu Chuji, Scorched Wood and the Seven Freaks were too badly injured to do anything other than watch.
Just then, a howl.
“You filthy villain!” It was Lily Li. “Stop!” She had been waiting all this time to get her revenge. Now her captor was about to kill yet more righteous men, she could wait no longer. She ran and jumped up onto his back and wrestled with all her strength. With one broken arm, Duan could not put up much of a fight.
She was dressed in army uniform, so the others had assumed her to be part of Duan’s retinue. Her attack took them all by surprise. But it was Ke Zhen’e who first realised this young man was in fact a woman, just from her voice. “Venerable Monk Scorched Wood,” he said, turning to the Abbot, “you’ve misled us and put us in grave danger. You had a woman hiding in your temple all along!”
Scorched Wood realised at once what had happened. This one small oversight had not only caused injury to himself, but also great harm to his friends. He planted his fist on the floor and, pushing himself to his feet, spread his hands and rushed at Justice Duan. Again Duan managed to dive out of the way, but Scorched Wood’s approach was clumsy and he ran head first into one of the temple columns and was killed instantly.
Justice Duan was terror-stricken. He could stay not a moment longer. Grabbing Lily Li, he ran.
“Help! No! He’s kidnapping me!”
Lily Li’s shouts faded into the distance.
Chapter Three
Swirling Sands
1
THE MONKS SOBBED BITTERLY AT THEIR ABBOT’S DEATH, BUT quickly turned to bandaging the wounded and carrying them to the temple guesthouse.
A knocking from inside the bell in the hall suddenly interrupted their work. The monks looked at each other: was it a monster? They began chanting “The King’s Sutra”, accompanied by the mysterious banging. Eventually some among them pulled the bell aside and together lifted the censer. To their horror, out rolled a ball of flesh. The monks jumped back in fright. The ball then slowly uncurled and stood up; it was Ryder Han. He was unaware of how the fight had ended, but immediately spotted that Scorched Wood was at eternal rest and his martial family gravely injured. Taking up his Golden Dragon whip he marched towards where Qiu Chuji was lying and raised it above the Taoist’s head.
“Third Brother, no!” Gilden Quan cried.
“Why not?”
“You mustn’t,” was all his brother could manage through the pulsing pain in his stomach.
Ke Zhen’e had been struck in both legs, but he was not badly hurt and was as alert as ever. He removed a vial of antidote from inside his shirt and instructed one of the monks to administer it to Qiu Chuji and Jade Han. He then explained all that had happened to his third martial brother.
“Where is Duan?” Ryder Han demanded.
“We’ll find the scoundrel soon enough,” Ke Zhen’e replied. “First you must help your brothers, they are badly wounded.”
Zhu Cong and Woodcutter Nan’s injuries were the most serious, and the kick to Gilden Quan’s stomach had done its damage too. Zhang Asheng’s arm was broken and his chest thumped with pain, but at least he was conscious once again.
The monks sent runners to report the day’s events to Withered Wood at Cloudy Perch Temple, and to start making arrangements for Abbot Scorched Wood’s funeral.
IT TOOK a few days for the poison to dissipate. Qiu Chuji was in fact well-versed in the medicinal arts and spent his time mixing herbal recipes and giving massages to the Freaks. Before long they were able to sit up in bed. Together they gathered in the monks’ sleeping quarters.
Eventually Jade Han broke the silence. “Elder Qiu is wise and capable, and the Seven Freaks are not exactly amateurs. And yet this dog tricked us into turning on each other. If word gets out, we’ll be laughed out of the wulin. Your Reverence,” she said, turning to Qiu Chuji, “what do you think we should do?”
Qiu Chuji held himself very much responsible. If only he had spoken calmly with Scorched Wood, surely the truth would have come out. “What do you think, Brother Ke?”
Ke Zhen’e was short-tempered by nature, and had only become more so following the events which led to his being blinded. He considered the defeat of his martial family at the hands of the Taoist an event of unparalleled humiliation, and his leg was spasming with pain. His answer, therefore, was rather short. “Elder Qiu has no respect for anyone, so long as he carries his sword. Why ask us our opinion?”
Qiu Chuji was stunned by this response, but understood Ke Zhen’e’s anger. He got to his feet and bowed to each in turn. “Please forgive my ill manners. I have wronged each one of you. I beg for your forgiveness.”
Zhu Cong and the Seven Freaks bowed too, all except Ke Zhen’e, who pretended not to notice. “My martial brothers and I are no longer worthy of involving ourselves in matters of the martial world. We shall take to fishing or collecting firewood. As long as Your Reverence would be so good as to allow us a horse and leave us alone, we will live out the rest of our days in peace.”
Qiu Chuji blushed at Ke Zhen’e’s reproof. He sat stiffly, saying nothing, and then took to his feet. “It was I who was at fault. I will not insult you further by wasting your time with my chatter. As for Abbot Scorched Wood’s death, the responsibility is mine and I will ensure that the villain Duan meets my blade. Now I must go.” Qiu Chuji bowed once more and turned to leave.
“Wait!” Ke Zhen’e called after him.
Qiu Chuji turned. “Was there anything else, Brother Ke?”
“You have caused each of us great injury,” Ke Zhen’e said. “Is that all you have to say?”
“What was Brother Ke hoping for? I will do everything in my power to please you.”
“Your tone is most rude. You can’t just expect us to swallow it,” Ke Zhen’e answered, his voice quiet.
The Seven Freaks could be generous and just, but they were also afflicted by an exaggerated pride, bordering on arrogance. It was not for nothing they were named the Seven Freaks, after all. As individuals they were accomplished, but together they were formidable. This was their first taste of defeat. Some years previously, they triumphed over the Huaiyang Gang on the shores of the Yangtze River, defeating more than a hundred men. Jade Han was only a child at the time, but she had killed two. From that day on, their fame spread throughout th
e jianghu. To be defeated by a lone Taoist was intolerable; all the more so that they were responsible for the death of their good friend Scorched Wood, and for no just cause. No, Qiu Chuji was to blame: he had been impetuous. Never mind that he had been right about a woman hiding in the temple. Skyfury Guo’s wife, no less.
“I was gravely injured,” Qiu Chuji said, “and would have died, had it not been for Brother Ke’s antidote. So I must admit defeat this time.”
“If that is so,” Ke Zhen’e replied, “then leave us the sword on your back as proof, so there can be no more fighting.”
Only Ryder Han and Jade Han were fit for combat, and there was no way they could prevail alone. Ke would rather his martial brothers die by his own hand than by the Taoist’s blade.
I have saved them face by admitting defeat, Qiu Chuji said to himself. What else do they want? “The sword is my protection, just like Brother Ke’s staff.”
“Are you ridiculing my condition?” Ke Zhen’e raised his voice.
“I wouldn’t dare.”
“Everyone is injured, we cannot fight again,” Ke Zhen’e growled. “But I invite Your Reverence to meet us back in the Garden of the Eight Drunken Immortals this very day one year from now.”
Qiu Chuji frowned. Suddenly an idea hit him. “Of course we can arrange another fight, but I should set the rules. Although perhaps we needn’t go another round as I already lost the drinking contest to Brother Zhu and have lost again in the temple.”
Ryder Han, Jade Han and Zhang Asheng took to their feet and the others straightened themselves as much as their injuries allowed. “We are happy to fight one more round. Our opponent may choose the time, the place and the rules.”
