by Jin Yong
Suddenly it became clear to everybody: there must be a powerful spring inside this steel tube. That monk only needed to reach into his pocket, press the trigger and the poisonous needle would shoot out of the hole. He did not need to raise his hand or wave his arm to do this; therefore, even if one was facing him only a few feet apart, one would not necessarily be able to see him shooting the secret projectile.
In his grief and anger, Zhang Bang Longtou raised his iron staff and swept it down, crushing Kong Ru’s brain out. Kong Ru was a peer of the Four Divine Monks; his martial art skill was on par with them, but he was seized by Kong Zhi and the acupoint on his back was sealed, so he could not move. As Zhang Bang Longtou’s iron staff swept down, he was unable to evade. The crowd of warriors cried out in alarm together.
Kong Zhi was taken by surprise; he glowered at Zhang Bang Longtou, thinking, "You are too hotheaded; you did not even investigate clearly.”
Amidst this confusion, suddenly from outside the field four Buddhist nuns wearing black robes walked in quick steps, each one had a whisk in her hand. In loud and clear voices they announced, "Emei Pai Zhangmen [sect leader] Zhou Zhiruo, leading the Emei disciples, pays her respect to Shaolin Temple’s Kong Wen Fangzhang.”
Kong Zhi laid down Kong Ru’s body and replied, "Please come in.” He welcomed the guests in a calm and composed manner. The remaining eight old monks of the Damo Hall followed behind him. It was as if they completely ignored the recent tragedy and it did not weigh on their mind at all.
After the four nuns paid their respects, they withdrew, turned around and left as swiftly as they came. The extraordinary thing about them was that these four women came and went as if they were one person; their footwork was light and graceful, as if they were floating leisurely, like passing clouds or flowing river, surging waves devoid of discreet steps.
As Zhang Wuji heard Zhou Zhiruo was coming, his face immediately turned red, and he stole a glance toward Zhao Min. At that exact same time, Zhao Min was also looking at him. Two people’s gaze met. Zhao Min winked, it was as if she was smiling, but actually she was not. The corner of her mouth slanted down, as if in contempt; although it was not clear whether she was mocking Zhang Wuji, who was at a loss, or she was looking at Emei Pai’ bluff with disdain.
Unlike the Beggar Clan warriors who walked into the field on their own, the Emei Pai heroines waited for Kong Zhi and the Shaolin monks to go out and welcome them, and only then did they enter the field in neat formation. There were about eighty, ninety female disciples wearing black robes; most of them were bald Buddhist nuns of all ages, elderly, middle-aged and young, even teenaged nuns. Behind these female disciples, more than a ‘zhang’ away, walked a very beautiful young woman wearing dark green ordinary [Translator’s note: by ‘ordinary’ here, I mean secular, not a Buddhist nun clothes] clothes in slow steps. She was the Emei Pai Sect Leader, Zhou Zhiruo.
As Zhang Wuji saw her slim figure, with a rather thin and pallid face, he felt sorry for her, but also ashamed of himself.
Several ‘zhang’s behind Zhou Zhiruo, there were about twenty male disciples; they also wore black robes. Most of them had refined scholar-like features, unlike the masculine and imposing features common to those of Wulin characters. Each man’s hands carried a wooden case of varying sizes, long and short. These hundred or so Emei disciples did not carry any weapon either on their bodies or their hands, obviously, the weapons were inside those boxes.
The crowd of warriors secretly praised, "The Emei Pai truly knows propriety; by not carrying weapons openly, they are showing deep respect toward the Shaolin Pai.”
Zhang Wuji waited until they were seated before he walk toward Emei Pai’s shelter and greet Zhou Zhiruo by cupping his fists. In bashful and ashamed voice he said, "Zhou Jiejie [elder sister Zhou], Zhang Wuji comes to apologize humbly.”
More than ten Emei Pai female disciples stood up suddenly; their eyebrows were raised, their faces looked angry.
"I do not dare,” Zhou Zhiruo returned the propriety. "Zhang Jiaozhu, why must you overly courteous? I am sure you are well since we part?” She looked completely calm, without any sign of either delight or anger.
Zhang Wuji’s heart was thumping erratically. "Zhiruo,” he said, "Because I was eager to save Yifu, I was being rude to you. I feel endless regret in my heart.”
Zhou Zhiruo said, "I heard Xie Laoye [old master Xie] has fallen into Shaolin Temple’s hands. Zhang Jiaozhu is an unrivalled hero, I am sure you have already rescued him.”
Zhang Wuji blushed and said, "Shaolin Pai’s eminent monks possess profound martial art skill. The Ming Cult has lost a battle. My (maternal) Grandfather was unfortunate and has passed away.”
"Yin Laoye Zi [old master] was a hero of this age,” Zhou Zhiruo said, "What a pity, what a pity!”
She did not show any emotion whether happy or angry. Zhang Wuji could not read her true feelings; he only felt that his words seem like bumping on her flexible nail, always bounce back without generating any interest on her part. However, thinking that compared to how bad he had hurt her by leaving her for Zhao Min in front of multitude of guests, the cold reception he received today was a thousand times, ten thousand times better. Thereupon he said, "Later, when we try to save Yifu, I wish you would lend your hands for old times’ sake.”
His heart stirred as soon as he said those words. "In the past half a year, her skill has advanced greatly,” he mused, "At the wedding hall the other day, Fan You Shi was forced to retreat by her in just one stance even with the kind of skill he has. Min Mei has learned the special skills of various sects’ leaders, yet she was almost killed instantly by her; not to mention Du Baidang and Yi Sanniang, husband and wife just a few days ago. Perhaps . perhaps as she took over the Emei Zhangmen [sect leader] position, she trained some secret martial art from some secret manual reserved exclusively for Sect Leader. Her comprehension is better than Miejue Shitai to the extent of although green was born of blue, it surpasses the blue [Translator’s note: a Chinese saying, means ‘student (or children) become superior to the master (or parents)]. If she is willing to collaborate with me, we might be able to break the ‘Jin Gang Fu Mo Quan’.”
Thinking to this point, he was excited and said, "Zhiruo, I want to ask you a favor.”
Zhou Zhiruo’s countenance suddenly stiffened. "Zhang Jiaozhu,” she said, "Please exercise selfcontrol. At this point, how can you address me like in the former days?” Beckoning to someone behind her she said, "Qingshu, come over here. Tell Zhang Jiaozhu about us.”
Zhang Wuji saw a man with face full of spiky beard step forward, cupping his fists and say, "Zhang Jiaozhu, how are you?”
Zhang Wuji recognized the voice as belonging to Song Qingshu; he took a closer look and recognized him as Song Qingshu; only he disguised himself as an older and uglier man to hide his original features. Thus Zhang Wuji also cupped his fists and said, "Turns out it is Song Shige [martial (older) brother]; I am well, thank you.”
Song Qingshu showed a faint smile and said, "Actually, I should thank Zhang Jiaozhu. That day
when you were about to marry my wife you had a second thought and regret .”
"What?!?” Zhang Wuji was shocked; his voice trembled.
"I have Zhang Jiaozhu to thank for my happy and blissful marriage,” Song Qingshu said.
It was as if five thunderbolts had struck Zhang Wuji at once. He stood with a blank expression on his face; his eyes glazed over like he was looking at a vast expanse of whiteness, his ears were buzzing with indistinct noise that he could not hear what people were saying around him. After a long time, he felt someone was tugging his arm.
"Jiaozhu, let us go back!” that person said.
Zhang Wuji calmed himself down and took a sidelong glance. He saw his arm was pulled by Han
Lin’er. Han Lin’er’s face was full of anxiety, grief and anger.
"Miss Zhou,” Han Lin’er said to Zhou Zhiruo, "My Jiaozhu is a righteous hero; just because of a small misunderstanding yo
u married this ... this ... humph, humph!” Actually, he wanted to scold Song Qingshu, but out of respect to Zhou Zhiruo, he swallowed back the word that was on the tip of his tongue.
Although Zhang Wuji had deep feelings toward Zhao Min, he had always thought that he was engaged with Zhou Zhiruo. That day, because he wanted to rescue Yifu, he had no choice but follow Zhao Min. He thought as a sweet and gentle girl, Zhou Zhiruo would understand and would not blame him as long as he honestly told her the reason. Who would have thought that in her rage she married Song Qingshu? The pain in his heart right now far exceeded the pain on his chest when Zhou Zhiruo stabbed him at the Brightness Peak.
Turning his head, he saw Zhou Zhiruo stretch out her delicate hand, as white as jade, to beckon Song Qingshu. With a very smug expression Song Qingshu walked back to her side, and sat next to her. With a faint smile on the corners of his mouth he said to Zhang Wuji, "When we get married, we did not throw any invitations and thus announced it publicly. Someday, we will invite Sire to enjoy our ‘wine of happiness’ [orig. xi3jiu3 - wine drunk at a wedding feast].”
Zhang Wuji wanted to say ‘thank you’ [orig. duo1xie4le5], but his throat was dry; unexpectedly he could not utter these three characters. Han Lin’er pulled his arm and said, "Jiaozhu, don’t pay any attention to this kind of person.”
Song Qingshu laughed and said, "Han Dage [big brother Han], when the time comes, you also have to enjoy this ‘wine of happiness’.”
Han Lin’er spat and hatefully said, "I’d rather drink three jars of horse urine than your bad-luck, dead-people’s wine.” Zhang Wuji sighed; he pulled Han Lin’er’s arm and took him away sadly.
In the meantime, the Beggar Clan’s Zhang Bang Longtou was engaged in a fiery argument with a Shaolin monk. The exchange among Zhang Wuji, Zhou Zhiruo, Song Qingshu and Han Lin’er took place at the Emei Pai shelter, on the northwest corner of the field, so it did not attract anybody’s attention; the crowd of warriors was busy listening to the dispute between the Beggar Clan and Shaolin Pai.
Zhang Wuji returned to the Ming Cult’s shelter and sat down with a troubled mind. He vaguely heard that old Shaolin monk in red kasaya say, "I told you Yuan Zhen Shixiong [martial brother] and Chen Youliang are not in our Temple, but your precious Clan did not believe me. Your precious Clan’s Chuan Gong Zhanglao was unfortunate to meet his death, but our Sect’s Kong Ru Shishu [martial uncle] had paid it with his own life. What else do you want?”
Zhang Bang Longtou said, "You said Yuan Zhen and Chen Youliang are not here? I don’t believe you! You must let us search Shaolin Temple.”
That Shaolin monk sneered and said, "Sire, you want to search Shaolin Temple? Don’t you think you are a bit too arrogant? The puny Beggar Clan might not necessarily have the ability to do so.”
"You are looking down on the Beggar Clan?” Zhang Bang Longtou said angrily. "Fine, I’ll ask you for advice first.”
The Shaolin monk replied, "For thousands of years, there have been countless heroes and warriors paying a visit to Shaolin. But because of our founder’s mercy, Shaolin has never burned anybody.”
The argument of these two was getting hotter by the minute; it looked like they were about to fight soon. Kong Zhi was standing quietly on the side; he did not even try to intervene. Suddenly Situ Qianzhong’s weird voice was heard again, "The world’s heroes are gathered together at Shaolin today. Some of us had to cover a distance of thousands of ‘li’s. Are we here to watch the Beggar Clan seeking a revenge?”
"That’s right,” Xia Zhou said, "The enmity between the Beggar Clan and Shaolin Pai can be temporarily set aside. It will not be too late for the two of you to settle your account later. We’d better talk about how we are going to handle that villain Xie Xun first.”
"Don’t be foul-mouthed,” Zhang Bang Longtou was indignant. "Jin Mao Shi Wang Xie Daxia is one of the Ming Cult’s Protector Kings; what villain are you talking about?”
Xia Zhou thundered, "You are scared of the Ming Cult, I am not scared of them! A villain with a wolf
heart and dog lung like Xie Xun and you still honor him as a hero?”
Yang Xiao walked toward the center of the field, cupped his fists around and said, "I am [orig. zai4xia4] the Ming Cult’s Guangming Zuo Shi [left emissary of the brightness]. I have something I’d like to say in front of the world’s heroes. My humble Cult’s Xie Shi Wang has killed innocent people in the past, but actually, he can’t be blamed .”
"Humph,” Xia Zhou snorted, "Those people he killed are already dead. Do you think you can
resurrect them with several sentences of your superficial words?”
Yang Xiao was unfazed; he said, "We are roaming the Jianghu; we lick the blood on our blades on
a daily basis. Which one among us has never taken anybody’s life to be able to stay alive until today? One with stronger martial art skill might kill more people. One with inept skill might lose one’s life. If for every life we take we must pay with our own lives, hey, hey, I wonder how many of us, among these several thousands of heroes and warriors in this field, would remain. Xia Lao Yingxiong [old hero Xia], you have never killed people in your whole life?”
The Mongolian occupation of China was a time of chaos; there was trouble and confusion everywhere. As the Wulin characters roamed the Jianghu, they would either kill or be killed. It was quite difficult to cultivate one’s own moral worth. Other than a small number of monks and nuns from Shaolin Pai and Emei Pai, perhaps it was rare to find anybody whose hands were free from bloodstain.
This Shandong’s warrior Xia Zhou was a hot-tempered man; he had injured countless people.
Yang Xiao’s words had rendered him speechless.
After being dumbfounded for a while, he said, "Bad people we can kill, good people we should not kill. This Xie Xun and the devil heads of the Ming Cult are entirely alike; always do dishonorable deeds. I wish I could cut you in thousands pieces, eat your flesh and sleep on your skin. Humph, humph, the one surnamed Yang, I think you are not a good ‘thing’.”
He understood that there were many highly skilled people within the Ming Cult, but today he wanted to kill Xie Xun to avenge his brother’s death, so a bloody battle against the Ming Cult was unavoidable. Therefore, he spoke boldly without showing any restraint.
A piercing voice came from the Ming Cult shelter, "Xia Zhou, do you think I am a good ‘thing’?”
Xia Zhou turned to look at the speaker; he saw a thin-cheeked and sharp-mouthed, pale-faced man; so pale that his face looked gray. Xia Zhou did not know what kind of person this speaker was; he shouted, "I don’t know who you are, but since you are one of the Devil Cult’s devil heads, I am sure you are not a good ‘thing’.”
"Xia Xiong [brother Xia},” Situ Qianzhong said, "Don’t you know this gentleman? He is one of the Four Protector Kings of the Ming Cult, the Qing Yi Fu Wang.”
"Pei, pei!” Xia Zhou spat, "The Blood Sucking Devil!”
Suddenly, while the crowd of warriors was still talking among themselves, Wei Yixiao had arrived in front of Xia Zhou. They were actually more than ten ‘zhang’s apart, but somehow Wei Yixiao managed to cover that distance in split seconds.
Wei Yixiao raised his hand and ‘slap, slap, slap, slap!’ he gave Xia Zhou four slaps on his face, followed by an elbow strike toward the acupoint on Xia Zhou’s lower abdomen. Actually, Xia Zhou’s martial art skill was not so bad. Based on their actual skill levels, Wei Yixiao would need at least fifty stances before he could beat Xia Zhou. However, Wei Yixiao’s ‘qing gong’ skill was too strange for Xia Zhou. He moved like a ghost, like a demon; so because of this element of surprise, by the time Xia Zhou realized the attack and was about to parry, the strike had already arrived.
While the crowd of warriors was crying out in shock, a white shadow flew from the Ming Cult’s shelter. It was inferior to Wei Yixiao’s lightning speed, yet the shadow was faster than a galloping horse. As the shadow reached Xia Zhou, a large cloth sack opened, went down on his head, and scooped him
inside the sack. It was not until the shadow slung the sack on his shoulder did the crowd of warriors finally saw that the shadow was a giggling Buddhist monk, the Bu Dai Heshang [cloth sack monk] Shuo Bude.
Shuo Bude laughed and said, "A good thing, you are a good thing! The monk will take you home and cook you slowly for my dinner!” Carrying Xia Zhou along, light as a feather he swiftly returned to the wooden shelter.
This attack on Xia Zhou happened very quickly and ended just as quick. Although he was surrounded by a dozen friends and fellow martial brothers, the two men from the enemy side were too fast that nobody was able to render their assistance. Only after Wei Yixiao and Shuo Bude were back to their seats that these dozen or so people unsheathed their weapons and charged toward the Ming Cult’s shelter with loud shouting and cursing.
Shuo Bude pulled open the sack’s mouth and said with a laugh, "Just return to your seats nicely and sit down quietly. After the meeting is over, I will let him go. If you are not obedient, the old monk will urinate into this cloth sack, or put some dung inside, or the best I can do is farting into the sack. Do you believe me or not?” As he said that, he put his hand onto his belt, as if he was ready to take his pants off.
These dozen or so people were so angry that their faces turned green and yellow, but remembering that these Ming Cult people would not stop at anything, they believed that he would do what he said he would do. They also realized that their skills were insufficient to help Xia Zhou. If this bald thief really urinated on his head, Xia Lao Yingxiong would certainly kill himself. They looked at each other, and then they returned to their seats with a dejected look on their faces.
Watching this affair, the crowd of heroes was startled and amused at the same time. When they went up the mountain, they were in high spirits, thinking that they were going to witness the execution of Xie Xun. But as they saw the skills of these two Ming Cult warriors, they realized that this assembly could turn dangerous. Even if they were successful in killing Xie Xun, the field would unavoidably be soaked with blood, and corpses would be scattered everywhere. They could not restrain trepidation from creeping into their hearts.
