Legend of Condor Heroes Book 4

by Jin Yong

  Ouyang Feng had fought him several times yet he had never seen Hong Qigong use the Dog Beating Stick Technique. Even in a critical situation when they were fighting on the burning boat Hong Qigong did not use this technique. Ouyang Feng had seen Huang Rong use this technique before and he did not dare to look down on the technique; now that the stick was in Hong Qigong’s hand it moved fast, carrying gusts of wind, truly not something to be trifled with. The snake staff in his hand shook; parried the left and evaded the right, he struck toward the middle.

  He had lost his snake staff twice; the one currently in his hand was a new one. The staff had the same scary head carved on it, but the two venomous snakes wrapped around it were new; even though their poison was as lethal as the previous ones, but they haven’t been used too long; thus their effectiveness was inferior to the previous ones.

  In the past Hong Qigong had been bitten by this kind of venomous snake, he had also suffered under Ouyang Feng’s vicious palms to the point of almost losing his life; which took him nearly two years to recover and get his martial art skill back. That was his greatest defeat and greatest danger he had to face his entire life; how could he not avenge this enmity? Thus he moved his stick with all his might, attacking furiously.

  The first time those two fought was over the Nine Yin Manual during the Sword Meet of Mount Hua. The second time was on the Peach Blossom Island, fighting over Guo Jing and Ouyang Ke’s marriage proposal; this fight was to decide victory and defeat only, not a life-and-death situation. The third time was on the small boat in the middle of the sea; where life and death were separated only by a thin line, but Hong Qigong still held his uprightness. This fight was the fourth time they battled each other fiercely; each one threw everything they had, no more mercy. They both knew that the opponent had trained hard and improved their martial art skill throughout all these years; their martial arts were very fierce, so if they were careless and yield even for half a stance, it would be difficult not to lose their own lives.

  Two people turning around and hitting each other for about two hundred moves when suddenly the moon disappeared, the darkness came blanketing everything. It was the darkest hour of the night before dawn. Both were afraid the opponent would launch a sneak attack, so they were focusing their attention on defense and did not care much on offense. Guo Jing and Huang Rong were anxious about their master’s safety; each moved forward several steps, ready to help if Hong Qigong’s life were threatened.

  While watching intently on the fierce battle in front of his eyes, Guo Jing had a disquieting thought, “These two people are the top skilled martial artists, but one is heroically upholding justice, while the other one is deceitfully wicked. Obviously martial art in itself does not differentiate good from evil; it all comes back to the person using it. If used to do good deeds, then the higher the skill the better, but if it used to do evil deeds, then the higher the skill the more wicked the martial art becomes.”

  The darkness made the battle difficult to watch, but the weapons made loud clashing sound and strong gusts of wind; Guo Jing’s heart was beating faster. “Shifu has wasted two years worth or training because of his injury. Originally they were in par with each other; this time the outcome will be decided by a step forward or backward; I am afraid Ouyang Feng will gain a half-step advantage because of that. If I knew this would happen I wouldn’t have shown mercy to him three times,” he silently mused.

  Guo Jing remembered Qiu Chuji once explained the ‘xin yi’ [trust and honor], that big trust and big honor should be differentiated from small trust and small honor. If a person’s entire being lacking trust and honor, it was the same as if that person did not have any trust and honor at all. Thinking about this, he felt his blood rushing through his system, he thought, “Although Shifu and Ouyang Feng clearly said that the battle will be a one-to-one combat, but what if Ouyang Feng harmed Shifu? What if from this time on, he would run amuck in the world? I don’t know how many good people will be hurt in his hands. I wasn’t clear about truth and righteousness before, hence I committed not a few foolishnesses.” Because of this thought he lifted up his palms, ready to move forward to help his master.

  But suddenly he heard Huang Rong called out, “Ouyang Feng, you and my Jing Gege had made an agreement which resulted in you being spared from death three times; who would have thought that you still relying on your strength bullying me? You proved yourself untrustworthy, much like a nameless pawn of the Wulin; yet you are still dreaming of becoming the number one martial artist of the world?”

  Ouyang Feng had committed countless ruthless acts in his life, but he was a proud man, he would call ‘one’ as ‘one’, and ‘two’ as ‘two’; never backed off on his own words. If it was not because of his desire to learn the Nine Yin Manual he wouldn’t break his promise to Guo Jing. This time he was fighting a fierce battle with Hong Qigong and suddenly Huang Rong brought it up; his ears turned red and his mind was muddled; he lost his concentration and the dog beating stick almost hit him.

  “You are known as the Western Poison,” Huang Rong continued, “So all kinds of evil are not stranger to you; but to have a junior sparing your life three times? You have lost your face. Where is your honor? How could you swallow your own words toward a junior? You have become the laughingstock of all the valiant people of the Jianghu till their mouths crooked. Ouyang Feng! Oh, Ouyang Feng! There is one title you deserve to have: you are the number one shameless man of the world!”

  Ouyang Feng was angry, but he realized it was Huang Rong’s clever trick to break his concentration; to make him feel ashamed. And as long as his internal strength was affected he would fall under Hong Qigong’s hands, hence he turned a deaf ear toward Huang Rong. Who would have thought that Huang Rong kept accusing him with more and more evil and wicked deeds; sounded like every crime ever committed in the martial art world was his doing. If it was just ruthless deeds, Ouyang Feng did not care, but Huang Rong’s tongue was getting more and more vicious. She mentioned all kinds of lowly and cowardice acts that even a bandit in the Jianghu would not do. Furthermore she said Ouyang Feng kissed Lingzhi Shangren’s rear end; that he respectfully called Sha Tongtian his ‘beloved uncle’; that he regarded Peng Lianhu as his ‘honorable father’ and begging for the secret ingredient of the poison Peng was using; that he repeatedly asked Wanyan Honglie for the captain of the guards position, so that he could live at the Zhao palace and be their night watch. She went as far as how Guo Jing in the west had spared his life three times, how Guo Jing rescued him from the sand, but Huang Rong add some spices to her story, made Ouyang Feng appear completely helpless and the rescue ten times more dramatic.

  At first Ouyang Feng was still able to control his emotion, but as the story progressed to extreme nonsense he could not restrain from refuting Huang Rong several times. It was exactly what Huang Rong wanted: to engage him in useless debate and deliberately losing his fighting concentration. Thus Ouyang Feng had to fight in two fronts: with his hands and feet he fiercely battled Hong Qigong, with his mouth he argued with Huang Rong. Unfortunately for him, Huang Rong’s mouth was a lot sharper than Hong Qigong’s hands and feet.

  After fighting for half a day Ouyang Feng began to feel the pressure, he thought, “It would be difficult to win if I don’t use the martial art from the Nine Yin Manual.” Although he had not mastered Huang Rong’s explanation on reversing the blood flow through vital energy passages, he had been able to train for half a year; due to his own intelligent and profound martial art, he managed to somewhat improve his internal strength. Therefore, his snake staff suddenly made strange movements.

  Hong Qigong was startled; he had to increase his attention. Huang Rong called out, “Yuan si ying er, ba ba xi luo zhao, xue liu wen bing.” Ouyang Feng was startled, “What is the meaning of that?” he asked himself. How would he know that Huang Rong was letting her tongue loose and talk whatever came into her mind? That it did not carry any meaning at all? Huang Rong repeatedly talked gibberish, changing the tone of
her voice; sometimes sounded like she was scolding him, other time encouraging, but suddenly turned to a sigh; then the sigh turned into cheers. Some sentences sounded like they were questions; or urgently asking for advice. Ouyang Feng had determined to ignore her, but in the end his curiosity won, “What are you talking about?”

  Huang Rong answered him using Sanskrit sentences she learned. Ouyang Feng was confused; he tried hard to remember the altered manual Guo Jing wrote for him. Suddenly a flood of chaotic sounds, images, strategic moves and martial arts theories came streaming into his mind. He felt dizzy and suffer a momentary memory loss.

  Hong Qigong saw an opening in Ouyang Feng’s staff movement, “Got you!” he cried, and swung his stick toward the top of Ouyang Feng’s head.

  This hit did not carry tremendous strength; Ouyang Feng was already confused, but after his head was hit he became more confused. He was in a daze; screamed and dragging along his snake staff he ran away.

  “Where are you running to?” Guo Jing called out. He jumped to catch up. Ouyang Feng leaped high, made three somersaults in the air; then rolling and crawling, climbing a hill nearby, he disappeared without a trace.

  Hong Qigong, Guo Jing and Huang Rong looked at each other, perplexed; then they smiled out of surprise. Hong Qigong sighed, “Rong’er, your part in my victory over the Old Poison today is actually big. But with us, master and disciple, against one opponent, it was a rather shallow victory.”

  Huang Rong smiled, “Shifu, it was you who taught me this skill.”

  Hong Qigong laughed, “It was your natural ability,” he said, “Only a crafty old fellow as your father can have a crafty daughter like you.”

  Suddenly someone called out from behind the mountain, “Good! You talk about other people behind their backs. Old Beggar, aren’t you ashamed?”

  “Father!” Huang Rong called and leaped to him.

  It was dawn, the morning light shone on a man wearing a green robe, walking leisurely. It was none other than the Master of the Peach Blossom Island, Huang Yaoshi.

  Huang Rong threw herself into her father’s bosom; father and daughter hugged each other. Huang Yaoshi could see the childish expression had gone from his daughter’s face; she had grown into a beautiful young woman. She looked much like his late wife, that his heart was both happy and sad at the same time.

  “Old Heretic Huang,” Hong Qigong said, “Didn’t I tell you on the Peach Blossom Island that your virgin daughter is so smart? She is so crafty; others won’t bully her that easily, so there is nothing for you to worry. Now tell me, was the Old Beggar wrong?”

  Huang Yaoshi smiled faintly, holding his daughter’s hand he went near and said, “Congratulations! You made the Old Poison ran away. His defeat means you and I have one less problem to face.” “You and I are the current experts of the world,” Hong Qigong said, “As soon as I saw your daughter the worms in my tummy started to dance around, my mouth watered. Let us just compete and get it over with; you become the number one is fine with me, I become the number one is also good. I only want to eat Rong’er’s cooked meals.”

  “Not so fast,” Huang Rong laughed, “Only if you lose I will cook something for you to eat.”

  “Bah!” Hong Qigong spat, “You are shameless. You are extorting me, aren’t you?”

  “Old Beggar,” Huang Yaoshi said, “You have wasted two full years to recover from your injuries. I am afraid you are not my match. Rong’er, no matter who wins and who loses, you will cook some food for your Shifu to eat.”

  “Right!” Hong Qigong exclaimed, “Now THAT is a speech befitting a great master of a martial art school! How can the Master of the Peach Blossom Island have the same petty thought as a little girl? We don’t have to wait until noon to start our competition. Come!” He swung his bamboo stick and moved forward to begin.

  Huang Yaoshi shook his head, “You have just fought the Old Poison for quite a while. Although your energy is not completely depleted, you are tired nonetheless. How can Old Huang gain a slight advantage over you? We will wait till noon to compete, you need to restore your strength.”

  Even though Hong Qigong knew what he said was right, but he was too impatient to wait, so he insisted on starting right away. Huang Yaoshi simply sat on a big rock, totally ignoring him.

  Seeing these two could not reach any agreement Huang Rong said, “Father, Shifu, I have an idea: the two of you can compete immediately without Father taking any advantage over Shifu.”

  “Good! What is it?” Hong Qigong and Huang Yaoshi asked.

  “The two of you have been friends for many-many years, no matter who wins or loses; your friendship will be damaged. But today is the Sword Meet of Mount Hua, so no matter what, victory and defeat must be decided, does it not?”

  Hong and Huang two people’s interests were piqued. They were aware that she was right; and if she indeed had an excellent idea, then they would kill three birds with one stone: one, they could compete immediately; two, Huang Yaoshi would not take any advantage over Hong Qigong; three, their friendship would not be damaged. So they enthusiastically asked, “Tell us your great idea.”

  “My idea is this,” Huang Rong explained, “First, Father compete with Jing Gege. We will see how many stances Father will need to defeat him. Then Shifu will also compete with Jing Gege. If Father uses 99 moves to score victory but Shifu needs 100 moves, then Father wins. But if Shifu only need 98 moves, then Shifu wins.”

  “Wonderful! Wonderful!” Hong Qigong exclaimed.

  Huang Rong continued, “Jing Gege will compete with Father first; both are still fresh. Then when he competes with Shifu, both parties have each fought one time. Don’t you say it is a fair deal?”

  Huang Yaoshi nodded his head, “This is a good idea. Jing’er, come! Are you going to use weapon or not?”

  “I am not going to,” Guo Jing said. He was about to step forward when Huang Rong said again, “Hold on a second. There is one more thing I want to say: What if you two seniors cannot defeat Jing Gege in 300 moves?”

  Hong Qigong burst out in laughter, “Old Heretic Huang, originally I envy you of having a smart daughter, who is always looking after her Father’s well-being. Ay! Who would have thought that a girl is always a girl; born to leave home. Actually she wanted this dumb kid to hold the title ‘Number One Martial Artist in the World’!”

  Huang Yaoshi might be eccentric, but he loved his daughter with all his heart. He secretly thought, “Let me help her achieve her wish.” So he said, “What Rong’er had said is true. If we two old men cannot defeat Jing’er in 300 moves, would we have any face to become the Number One?” But suddenly he had another thought, “I intended to hold back and let him to fight me for 300 stances, but what if the Old Beggar does not hold back and score victory in less than 300 moves? Then I won’t be holding back for Jing’er’s sake, but for the Old Beggar’s.” He hesitated on what to do.

  Hong Qigong shoved Guo Jing forward, “Go, fight! What are you waiting for?” he said.

  Guo Jing staggered and stepped forward to face Huang Yaoshi. “All right,” Huang Yaoshi thought, “Let me try his skill first, then I’ll decide what to do later.” Raising his left palm he hacked diagonally toward Guo Jing’s neck. “First move!” he called out.

  While Huang Yaoshi was not sure what to do, Guo Jing also had some doubt of his own, “There is no way I can win the world’s number one title; but shall I let Daozhu [Island Master] win, or shall I let Shifu win?” He was still thinking when Huang Yaoshi had made his move. Guo Jing lifted up his right hand to parry. His body shook and he almost fell down. “Stupid!” he scolded himself, “Why would I worry about whom I should let to win? Even if I fight will all my might I may not be able to keep up for 300 stances.”

  In the mean time Huang Yaoshi had launched the second move, so he was forced to focus his attention. He made a decision right then and there, to compete with those two people with all his might. Who is swift and who is slow, let them use their skill to defeat him. He would not be
one sided.

  Several stances later Huang Yaoshi was astonished. “How did this dumb kid reach this level? If I held back, not only I might not be able to defeat him in 300 stances, I might even lose in his hands.” In a battle between martial art experts one cannot let back even half a step. Because initially Huang Yaoshi was only using 70% of his strength, he fell under Guo Jing’s control. He started to feel alarmed, and busily launched the ‘luo ying shen jian zhang’ [falling flower divine sword palm technique], his body floating around at full strength. But Guo Jing now was not the same as Guo Jing then. Huang Yaoshi had used dozens different palm techniques, yet it was still difficult for him to gain an upper hand.

  After about one hundred moves Huang Yaoshi suddenly launched a trick move. Guo Jing did not expect him to make such move; he was almost kicked down by Huang Yaoshi’s left leg. Frantically

  Guo Jing retreated two steps and steadied himself. Because of this Huang Yaoshi managed to even up the battle situation.

  Huang Yaoshi took that opportunity to take a deep breath. “Amazing!” he secretly praised.

  Huang Yaoshi worked very hard to gain an upper hand, but unexpectedly Guo Jing’s position was very firm. Guo Jing had decided all along to put up a very tight defense line; he knew it was impossible for him to win, so he only hoped he would not lose.

  Listening to his daughter on the side counting, “Two-hundred and three, two-hundred and four,” Huang Yaoshi became impatient. “Old Beggar may use a heavy hand; if he defeats Jing’er in 100 moves, where would I put my face at?” he silently thought. He changed his attacks: now his palms floating around like a shadow; his hands were very swift.

  Guo Jing started to feel the pressure; his chest tightened, like it was pressed under a huge mountain. He started to get disoriented, but he bravely stood his ground.