Legend of Condor Heroes Book 1

by Jin Yong

  “How is this possible?” Han Baoju wondered. He approached the horse, caressed it, examined his hand attentively, and then exploded in laughter. “It’s not blood,” he said, “it’s sweat!”

  “Sweat?” Guo Jing stammered, almost speechless. “Red sweat?”

  “Jing’er, it is a horse that sweats blood, a rare beast and of inestimable value!” Guo Jing, happy beyond belief to learn that his horse was not injured asked, “Third Shifu, how can sweat look like blood?”

  “I heard from my late Shifu, that there existed in the kingdom of Ferghana [a central Asian Valley, shared today by Uzbekistan, Kirghizstan and Tajikistan.] in the Territories of the west, celestial horses whose sweat was red as blood. At a gallop they looked like they were flying and could cover more than one thousand li per day. But that was just a story and since no one had ever seen one, I didn't believe it myself. However, here is this legendary animal and it let himself be tamed by you!”

  By this time, the other Freaks had also arrived. They took a room in the hostel then ordered something to eat. Zhu Cong, whose learning was incomparable, said while nodding his head, “It is an anecdotal story confined to historic records in the dynastic history of the Han. The story tells that the Emperor Han Wudi, having heard rumors of the horse that sweats blood, sent an emissary to the Kingdom of Ferghana with a full size gold statue of the animal. The emissary asked to have one of them but the king of Ferghana refused.”

  “How did the emperor react?” Han Xiaoying asked. “Did he give up on having the horse?” Sitting at another table, the camel riders in white, turned to listen to the story. At that moment, more bells were heard and four more individuals, also clothed in white, entered and sat down with the others.

  “Of course not,” Zhu Cong said. “He became enraged and invaded Ferghana. He began a long and vicious war, during which the kingdom was destroyed. He finally captured one of the famous horses, but at such a price!” All commented on the madness of men and continued to eat.

  The eight camel riders had listened to the story attentively and gave covetous looks at the red horse tied outside. They kept whispering in low voices. Ke Zhen’E, whose hearing was especially acute, heard them distinctly even though the tables were relatively distant from each other.

  “If we’re going to take it,” one of them said, “we need to do it right away. If he rides his horse again, we won’t be able to catch him!”

  “There are too many people here,” retorted another. “And he has some friends... ”

  “If they dare to interfere,” said a third, “we’ll have to kill them all!”

  “How can these eight individuals scheme so cruelly?” Ke Zhen’E wondered, but he didn't let anything show and continued to swallow his food greedily.

  “We will offer this precious horse to the young Master,” one of them said. “Mounted on such beast, his arrival in Yanjing will be a lot more spectacular! No one will be talked of as much as him, not even vain people like the ‘Ginseng Immortal’ or the ‘Virtuous Supreme Lingzhi’!”

  Ke Zhen’E heard them speak of the ‘Virtuous Supreme Lingzhi’, who was an eminent personality from a secret school in Tibet, known in the whole of the southwest for his technique ‘Stamp of a Big Hand’. On the other hand, he didn't know anything about the ‘Ginseng Immortal’.

  “These past few days,” another said, “we met a lot of outlaws on the road; they were all Peng Lianhu’s men. They call him ‘Butcher of One Thousand Hands’. They are probably going to the gathering in Yanjing. If they happen on this precious horse, do you think that we’ll get another chance to take it?”

  Ke Zhen’E froze. He knew that Peng Lianhu was a dangerous outlaw chief who terrorized the region of Hubei and Shanxi. He had many henchmen under his command and acted with cruelty. He had killed so many people that he had received the nickname ‘Butcher of the One Thousand Hands’. “Why,” he wondered, “are all these sinister outlaws going to meet in the capital? And where did these eight women come from?”

  The women continued to plot in low voices and decided to lie in ambush on the road outside of the town, in order to seize Guo Jing’s horse. Then they chattered, talking of clothes and other things of that kind. “It’s you that the young Master prefers”, or “The young Master must be thinking about you now”, etc. Ke Zhen’E angrily raised his eyebrows, but he could not close his ears and he heard everything in spite of himself.

  “If we offer the blood sweating horse to the young Master,” asked one of them, “what reward do you think he is going to give us?”

  “He is surely going to spend more nights with you,” answered another, laughing.

  The first sulkily protested, and they continued to bicker while laughing. “Be quiet,” one of them said. “Don’t reveal our intentions, because they don't look to be that easy to...”

  “The woman over there,” another said in a low voice, “carries a sword; she practices martial arts for sure. And she is rather good looking! If she were ten years younger, the young Master would certainly be interested in her!”

  Ke Zhen’E knew that they were speaking of Han Xiaoying and felt even angrier. “This ‘young Master’ that they speak of can’t be someone very admirable!” The eight women finished their meal, mounted their camels and left.

  After their departure, Ke Zhen’E asked Guo Jing, “Jing’er, what do you think of the abilities of those eight women?”

  “What women?” Guo Jing wondered.

  “They were disguised as men,” Zhu Cong explained, “but you didn't realize it, did you?”

  “Who knows of the ‘Mount of the White Camel’?” Ke Zhen’E asked. No one had heard of it. Ke told them of the conversation that he had heard. The other Freaks decided that these shameless women didn't lack boldness, but their audacity in wanting to tackle someone stronger than them was something to laugh at.

  “Two among them,” Han Xiaoying said, “have big noses and green eyes; they probably aren’t Chinese... ”

  “Very true,” confirmed Han Baoju. “And those pure white camels only exist in the territories of the west.”

  “That they want to steal the horse,” Ke Zhen’E said, “is not too serious, but they also said that numerous dangerous personalities are going to a meeting in Yanjing. It may involve an important plot to harm the Song dynasty. It could have disastrous consequences for our people! Since we accidentally discovered this business, we cannot wash our hands of it.”

  “Certainly not,” Quan Jinfa said, “but the appointment at Jiaxing is near, we can’t waste any time.” They hesitated, because it appeared impossible to reconcile the two missions.

  “Jing’er goes there first,” Nan Xiren suddenly said.

  “What Fourth brother wants to say” Han Xiaoying interpreted, “is that Jing’er must go to Jiaxing alone, and that we will join him once we have dealt with this matter in Yanjing.” Nan Xiren nodded his head.

  “It’s true,” Zhu Cong said, “it is time that Jing’er traveled alone to acquire some experience by himself...” The young man was saddened to part with his Shifus.

  “You are now grown up,” Ke Zhen’E reprimanded. “Don't behave like a child!”

  “You go and wait for us there,” Han Xiaoying said, comforting him. “In less than one month, we will join you.”

  “We didn't explain the appointment in Jiaxing in detail to you before,” Zhu Cong said. “When the time arrives, on the twenty-fourth day of the third lunar month, at noon, you absolutely must be at the ‘Pavilion of the Drunken Immortal’, even if the sky falls on your head!” Guo Jing agreed.

  “Those eight women want to steal your horse,” Ke Zhen’E continued. “Don't look for a fight; your horse is fast and they won’t be able to catch up to you. You have important things to attend to, so don’t get involved in useless distractions.”

  “If those women dare to cause any trouble,” Han Baoju said, “the ‘Seven Freaks of Jiangnan’ will stop them!”

  Zhang Ahsheng died more than ten years a
go, but the six still called themselves the ‘Seven Freaks’, never forgetting to associate their dead brother with all their actions.

  Guo Jing bade farewell to his teachers. They had witnessed his battle with the ‘Four Demons of the Yellow River’, and were not greatly worried for his safety. The young man had proved that he knew how to use the skills that had been taught to him. Therefore they let him leave alone. On one hand, the meeting of the outlaws in Yanjing worried them greatly and they couldn’t just ignore it. On the other hand, a youngster has to travel Jianghu alone, in order to learn lessons that no teacher can pass on.

  At the moment of parting, each gave his last bit of advice. As usual, when the Six spoke, Nan Xiren was the last one to express himself, “If you cannot defeat an enemy,” he said. “Flee!”

  Knowing Guo Jing’s determined nature, he knew that he would rather die than to surrender. If he met a master, he would certainly fight to the bitter end, even at the risk of death. That was the reason Nan Xiren gave him this common-sense warning.

  “The martial arts have no limits,” Zhu Cong added. “As the proverb says: 'For every peak there is one higher', so for every man there is someone stronger. Whatever your power, you will one day meet a foe stronger than you. A true man knows to retreat when necessary. When facing grave danger, it is necessary to contain one's impetuosity and anger. This is what is meant by the adage: ‘If one preserves the earth and its forests, one does not fear the lack of firewood.’ It is not cowardly to take good advice! When the enemy is too numerous and you cannot face them, it is very necessary to avoid being too reckless. Keep in mind Fourth Shifu's advice!”

  Guo Jing agreed and kowtowed to his teachers before mounting his horse to head for the south. He felt great sadness at parting from his masters with whom he had lived every day for the past ten years. Tears rolled down his cheeks. He thought also of his mother, whom he had left alone on the steppe. Of course, she didn’t lack for anything, since Genghis Khan and Tolui had promised to look after her, but his loneliness weighed upon him nonetheless, and he worried for her.

  After traveling about ten li, he arrived in a mountainous region. The road wound along the bottom of a valley dominated by craggy slopes dotted with strange boulders. Since it was the first time that he had faced the outside world, he could not help but feel a little apprehensive at the sight of this threatening landscape. With one hand on the hilt of his sword, he paused and smiled, “If Third Shifu saw me thus, trembling and terrified, he would certainly make fun of me!”

  The road climbed the mountain flank, becoming narrower and serpentine. Rounding a bend, he suddenly became aware of a group of white shapes in front of him; four women clothed in white, mounted on white camels, blocked the road. Guo Jing, pulling back the reins of his horse, halted. From a distance, he shouted, “Excuse me! May I please pass?”

  The four women laughed. “Little man,” one of them replied. “What do you fear? Why don't you come over! We won't eat you!” Red-faced, Guo Jing did not know what to do. Could he amicably negotiate passage, or would it be necessary to rush forward and make the pass by force of arms?

  “Your horse is not a bad animal,” another woman said. “Come here; let me have a look at him!” She spoke to him as if to a little child. Guo Jing felt anger rise within him, but the layout of the terrain worried him. To his right rose a craggy cliff, to the left, there was a mist-covered precipice, whose bottom could not be seen.

  “Eldest Shifu,” he said to himself, “has given me good advice not to seek trouble. If I ride at them swiftly, those girls will be obliged to let me pass!” He lashed his reins, pressed with his thighs, and the red horse sped forward like an arrow. Sword in hand, Guo Jing cried, “Listen to me, you people! Let me pass! If someone is jostled and falls from the precipice, it won't be my fault!” In the blink of an eye, he arrived in front of the four women. They had leapt down from their camels and attempted to seize the bridle of the horse. With a whinny, the horse leapt over the camels! Guo Jing had the impression that he was flying in the clouds as he landed beyond his opponents, who were just as surprised as him!

  Hearing them scream out in anger, he turned and saw the flash of two projectiles flying toward him. This being his first time traveling the Jianghu, he had taken heed of the prudent advice of his masters. Worried that the missiles were poisoned, he did not wish to seize them with his bare hand. He waved his leather cap and intercepted them.

  “Well done!” two of the women called. “Pretty good kung fu!”

  Guo Jing dipped his head and saw, inside his cap, two silver darts tipped with extremely sharp fish bones. Deadly weapons! He felt both disturbed and upset. “There is no ill-will between us,” he said to himself. “You covet only my horse and yet you are ready to mortally injure me!” He placed the missiles in his pouch, and fearing to meet the other four women, he slackened his horse's reins, not holding it back any longer. It galloped like the wind and in less than an hour had covered 80 li. The other assailants must have been lying in ambush further down the road, but he passed by so quickly that they did not have the time to launch it. After a brief rest, he continued on. Before night fell again, he had arrived in Kalgan [the Mongolian name for Zhangjiakou], sure that he had left those following him far behind.

  Kalgan, at the crossroads of commerce between the South and the North, was a small but very lively city, where the trade of the region was centered, especially the fur trade. Holding his red horse by the reins, Guo Jing glanced right and left with great curiosity. Never had he seen a town of such importance and everything appeared strange and new to him. Arriving in front of a large restaurant he felt the pangs of hunger. He tied up his horse in front of the door and went in. Once seated at a table, he ordered a dish of beef, with two pancakes, and having a good appetite, he ate in the Mongol manner, wrapping the meat in the pancake and taking bites out of it. While he satisfied his hunger, he suddenly heard a disturbance at the door of the inn. Fearing for his mount, he rushed to the doorway.

  The little red horse was quietly eating its fodder while two inn boys were scolding a young, slender boy, clothed in rags. He appeared to be fifteen or sixteen years of age and on his head he wore an old leather hat with many holes. His face and hands were dirty; so much so that one could not distinguish his features clearly. He held a big bun in his hand and laughed foolishly, revealing two rows of beautiful white teeth that seemed out-of-place in comparison with his general appearance. His black, very lively eyes, shone with intensity.

  “Hey you!” one of the boys screamed. “Get lost!”

  “Sure.” the young lad said, “Since you want me to go, I'll go.” As he turned on his heels the other inn boy interrupted, “Leave the bun!” He handed the bun back, but it was covered with the marks of dirty fingers and could no longer be sold. The inn boy was furious and launched a blow with his fist that the boy ducked.

  Guo Jing, feeling pity for him and thinking that he had to be hungry, interposed himself. “There's no need for violence,” he said. “Put that on my account!”

  He took the bun and gave it to the young man who took it and said, “This bun is no good! Poor thing, this is for you!” He threw the bun to a small skinny dog that started to devour it.

  “What a waste!” the inn boy disgustedly said, “giving a dog such a good bun!”

  Guo Jing was taken aback, for he had believed that the boy suffered from hunger... He returned to his table to continue his meal. The young man followed him inside the establishment and stayed there, looking at him fixedly. Guo Jing felt a little bothered and asked, “Do you want to eat here, too?”

  “Gladly,” replied the young man with a laugh. “I was bored being all alone and I've been looking for a buddy...”

  He had a Jiangnan accent and its familiarity delighted Guo Jing. In fact, his mother was from Lin’an, in Zhejiang province, and the Freaks all came from Jiaxing. Since childhood he had been immersed in the accent of Jiangnan. The young boy seated himself at the table. Guo Jing called th
e waiter. When he saw the rags and dirtiness of the new guest, the look on his face was not very nice. It was necessary to call him several times before he finally, dragging his feet, brought over a bowl and plate.

  “You take me for a pauper,” the young boy said, “and unworthy to eat here. Pah! Even should you serve me your finest dish, who knows if it’ll be to my taste?” “Ah yes,” the waiter said coldly. “We will assuredly follow your orders, sir. The problem is that we don't know if anyone will pay!”

  “Whatever I order,” the boy demanded of Guo Jing, “will you treat me?”

  “Of course.of course!” Guo Jing replied. He then told the waiter, “Quickly cut up a plate of roast beef and a half plate of mutton liver!” To him, roast beef and mutton liver constituted the ultimate in delicacies... “Do you drink wine?” he asked the boy.

  “Wait,” the boy replied. “Don't rush into the meat. Let us begin first with fruit. Eh, waiter! First we’ll have four dry fruits, four fresh fruits, two salted sweetened ones, and four preserved fruit in honey.”

  Not expecting such an order the waiter was shocked,. “Which fruit and sweets do you wish, sir?” he inquired.

  “In this little establishment, in this pathetic little town,” the boy said, “I imagine it's impossible for you to come up with anything great. We’ll have to content ourselves with lesser things. The four dry fruit are lichis, longans, steamed jujubes and gingkos. For the fresh, you will choose seasonal fruits. For the salted sweetened, perfumed cherries and plums and filaments of ginger, but I don't know if you’ll find those here. As for the honey preserved fruit, you will bring rose perfumed tangerines, preserved grapes, sugar frosted peaches, and pear slices." This knowledge of culinary matters impressed the waiter, who no longer dared to act superior.

  “There are no fresh fish or fresh shrimp to accompany the wine,” continued the boy, “so I will be content with eight average... dishes.”