by Jin Yong
In the painting was a towering mountain, with a total of five steep peaks. Among them, one peak was outstandingly tall - bolt upright and pointing to the heavens, it pierced the clouds with its colossal height and overlooked a deep chasm below. A row of pine trees grew by the mountainside. Twigs tipped with snow, each winding trunk curved to the south, suggesting the utter ferocity of the north wind. To the west of the summit was a lone pine: old, but stiff and upstanding, and rising with an elegant majesty. Beneath this pine, vermilion brushstrokes profiled a general, twirling his sword in the face of the wind. The figure’s features were hard to discern, but the sleeves of his clothes rose in a flutter, and his bearing escaped the ordinary. The entire picture was a monochromatic landscape, but this man alone was a firey, blackish red - making him seem all the more outstanding and exceptional.
The painting was without a signature. It was annotated only with the following poem:
My clothing covered with the marks of many years,
In special search of em’rald haven’s fragrant heights,
I’ve never seen enough of hills and rivers fine,
As cavalry by moonlight hurries to retreat.
A few days ago, Huang Rong had seen this poem as written down by Han Shizhong on the Emerald Haven Pavilion in Lin’an, and recognized the handwriting. “Dad,” she said, “this was written by Han Shizhong. The verses are of the late, mighty Yue.”
Huang Yaoshi nodded. “That’s right, my clever Rong’er!” he said. “But this poem of the late Yue was actually describing the ‘emerald haven’ of the mountains in Chizhou. The mountains in the painting make a treacherous scene; they’re no ‘emerald haven’ at all. Although this painting’s style has a fine firmness, it’s short on implication and tasteful accent; it’s not by the hand of a master.”
That day at the Emerald Haven Pavilion, Huang Rong had seen Guo Jing - reluctant to leave -tracing his fingers along the stone inscription and brushing over the remains of Han Shizhong’s handwriting. Knowing that he’d be fond of it, she said: “Dad, let Guo Jing have this painting.”
Huang Yaoshi laughed. “Girls, by birth, are extroverts,” he said. “What else is there to say?”
Handing it over to her freely, he reached into the iron chest again and picked up a necklace, remarking: “This string of pearls is each and every one of the same size; that’s truly hard to come by.” After he gave it to Huang Rong to wear around her neck, she threw herself into his arms, and he reached out and held her in a hug. Father and daughter smiled at each other, nestling cheek against cheek, both feeling a never-ending warmth.
Huang Rong had just rolled up the painting when suddenly, she heard several harsh, urgent cries of eagles overhead. Huang Rong, who was highly fond of that pair of white eagles, remembered that they’d already been taken back by Huazheng, and felt very unhappy. Wanting to play with them again for a bit, she emerged from the secret room in a hurry.
Outside the doorway, she saw Guo Jing standing under the big willow tree, one eagle pulling the shoulder of his clothes with its beak and leading him somewhere, the other eagle circling him and crying repeatedly. Sha Gu, watching in amusement, was wheeling round and round Guo Jing, clapping and giggling.
Guo Jing had an agitated look. “Rong’er,” he said, “they’re in trouble! Let’s hurry and go save them!”
“Who?” asked Huang Rong.
Guo Jing replied: “My sworn brother and sister!”
Huang Rong threw a pout with her little lips. “Well, I’m not going!” she said.
Guo Jing, unaware of her feelings, was baffled. “Rong’er, don’t be so childish!” he said, urgently. “Come on!” Harnessing the red horse, he slung himself into the saddle.
“Then...do you still want me or not?” said Huang Rong.
Guo Jing scratched his head in further bafflement. “How could I not want you?” he said. “I can go without my own life, but I can’t go without you.” Holding the reins with his left, he stretched out his right hand to receive her.
Huang Rong gave a beautiful smile and called out: “Dad, we’re going to the rescue. You and the six teachers come too.” She leaped over, latched onto Guo Jing’s right hand with her left, and pulled herself up to sit behind him on the horse’s back. Guo Jing, on horseback, bowed ceremoniously to Huang Yaoshi and his six teachers, and prompted the horse forward; ahead, the pair of eagles led the way, giving a long cry in unison.
The Little Red horse had been separated from its master for very long; now that it was carrying him once again, it felt an inexpressible happiness. Invigorated in spirit, it galloped onwards as if hauled by lightning and sped by the wind; although the two white eagles were fast flyers, the Little Red somehow kept up with them.
Not long after, the eagles dived down into a dark, dense forest ahead. The Little Red, not waiting for its master’s guidance, also raced straight towards the forest.
Arriving just outside the forest, they suddenly heard a voice like a cracked cymbal emanating from within the trees: “Brother Qianren, long have I known your mighty reputation as the venerable hero of Iron Palm! Younger brother has a great desire to admire, and marvel at, the virtuosity of your divine arts; it’s a pity that senior brother couldn’t participate at the Mount Hua Duels back then. Right now, let’s ‘throw brick to lure jade’. Firstly, younger brother will use his trivial skills to finish off one of these; then, how about senior brother letting loose in the awesome spirit of Iron Palm?” Following this, someone gave a loud cry of misery, the treetops swayed in the forest canopy, and a big tree came crashing down. Shocked, Guo Jing dismounted and rushed into the forest.
Huang Rong dismounted too. Patting the Little Red’s head, she pointed back at the direction they’d come from, and said: “Quick, go bring my daddy here!” The Little Red turned around and zoomed off.
“I just hope daddy comes quick,” thought Huang Rong, “or else, we’re going to get it from Old Venom again.”
Hiding herself behind the trees, she crept quietly into the forest. One glance later, she couldn’t help feeling astounded: Tuolei, Huazheng, Zhebie and Bo’erhu had all been tied up separate from each other against four big trees, and in front of them stood Ouyang Feng and Qiu Qianren. Against another tree - which had collapsed - there was also someone tied; covered in brightly-coloured clothes and armour, this was actually the Song commander who’d been escorting Tuolei back north. He’d been given a push from the stone-splitting, tree-snapping force that was Ouyang Feng’s palm. The front of his body was totally coated in blood, and the eyes in his drooping head were shut; he’d already been killed. The many soldiers had, to a man, disappeared without a trace; they’d presumably been routed by the two.
Qiu Qianren, who dared not compare palm power with Ouyang Feng, was just about to say a few things to bluff his way through when he heard the sound of footsteps behind him. Turning around to see Guo Jing, he felt both alarm and glee - just in time to make use of Western Venom to eliminate him! All he had to do was induce the two of them to get fighting, and then there’d be no need to take action himself.
Ouyang Feng saw that Guo Jing had borne the powerful force of his own Toad Art, and yet hadn’t died; this was highly unexpected.
“Guo Jing gege,” cried out Huazheng in delight, “you’re still alive! Super, super!”
Seeing the situation before her, Huang Rong had already concluded her calculations. “While waiting for daddy to come,” she planned, “I ought to delay things for a bit.”
“Bastards!” shouted Guo Jing. “What are you two oldies doing here? Planning murder again?”
Ouyang Feng, intending to get a clear look at Qiu Qianren’s martial arts, gave a slight smile and didn’t respond.
“Why aren’t you bowing down before Master Ouyang, boy?” shouted Qiu Qianren. “Bored being alive, are you?”
From within the secret room, Guo Jing had listened to Qiu Qianren saying all sorts of outrageous things to stir up controversy, and now he was trying to murder people.
Hating him to the core, he strode forward two paces and let out a shout, throwing a ‘Repentance of the Haughty Dragon’ at Qiu Qianren’s chest. By now, his ability with the 18 Dragon-Subduing Palms was no small matter; this particular palm was four parts release and six parts restraint, its power unleashed and instantly withdrawn. Qiu Qianren tried to dodge the oncoming force by hurriedly tilting his body but still had to deal with the arriving palm wind, and helplessly, he dropped forward instead of moving backwards.
Guo Jing gave a yell and threw a left-handed reverse palm, aiming for a tongue-splitting, tooth-dropping hit, after which Qiu Qianren would never again profit from waggling his tongue and provoking a storm.
Although this palm was strong in force, it was thrown quite slowly, but in placement it was just right - making it impossible for Qiu Qianren to dodge. It looked like it was about to hit him in the cheek when suddenly, Huang Rong called out: “Hold it!”
Guo Jing instantly converted his left hand into a grappling palm. Seizing Qiu Qianren by the back of the neck, Guo Jing lifted him up, then turned his head and asked: “What?”
Huang Rong was worried that, if Guo Jing wounded this oldie, Ouyang Feng would immediately go on the attack. “Quick, let go!” she said. “The ‘facial martial arts’ of this senior master are phenomenal. Once your palm hits his face, its force will be fired back at you; you won’t avoid internal injury!”
Guo Jing, not knowing she was speaking in ridicule, was incredulous. “There’s no such thing!” he protested.
Huang Rong added: “Senior master Qiu can strip the hide off an ox with just a gust of his breath! Why aren’t you getting out of the way?”
Guo Jing was even more incredulous. But realizing that she surely had some intention, he duly put Qiu Qianren down and let go of his neck.
Qiu Qianren cackled loud with laughter. “Young miss sees the danger yet!” he said. “With you little kiddies, I’ve no grievance, no enmity. By the abundant goodness of heaven above, how could I -being the senior - do as the big bully the small, and injure you as I please?”
Huang Rong smiled. “That’s well said,” she replied. “I’m a great admirer of senior master’s skill; today, I’d like to seek advice on expert moves. But don’t you injure me!” At that, she put her guard up; her left hand raised, she rolled her right into a hollow fist, brought it to her mouth, and blew a few times.
“Here’s a move called ‘Tooting One’s Own Conch’,” she laughed. “En garde!”
“Young miss has some gall!” said Qiu Qianren. “The name of Master Ouyang is pervasive under heaven - your ridicule is unacceptable!”
There was a smack as Huang Rong threw a surprise right-handed slap, landing a crisp, clean hit on his face. Giggling, she said: “This move’s called ‘The Backlash of the Facetious Cheek’!”
Suddenly, from outside the woods came the sound of laughter, and someone said: “Excellent! And the same once again!”
Hearing the voice, Huang Rong realised that her father had now arrived. Immediately growing more daring, she gave a call of agreement and duly motioned to throw a right-hand slap. Qiu Qianren hastily ducked in avoidance, but didn’t know that her move was actually a feint - the slap was instantly pulled and followed up with a left palm. Using the through-arm style of Six-Harmony Fist, he tried to swing out a block, but hadn’t figured that his opponent’s attack was still a feint; seeing her two tiny little palms fluttering up and down before his eyes like a couple of jade butterflies, his concentration slipped, and his right cheek took a slap yet again.
Qiu Qianren knew that, if the fight carried on, things could get positively out of hand. Shouting, he threw out two punches which forced Huang Rong to retreat a couple of steps, then straight away leapt aside with a cry of “Hold it!”
“What?” said Huang Rong, laughing. “Had enough?”
Qiu Qianren gave her a stern look. “Miss,” he said, “you’ve already sustained an internal injury. Hurry off to a tranquil room to convalesce for seven times seven days. And don’t so much as peep outside, or else there’s no guaranteeing your little life!”
Seeing him speak so seriously, Huang Rong couldn’t help being startled for a moment - before bursting into giggles of uncontrollable laughter, her body trembling like the stem of a flower.
By now, Huang Yaoshi and the Six Freaks of Jiangnan had already caught up, and were puzzled at the sight of Tuolei and the others tied against trees.
Ouyang Feng had naturally heard that the martial arts of Qiu Qianren were astonishing. In one former year, he’d beaten the master warriors of the Hengshan School - which had rocked the southern realms with its might - until they lay dead or dying, using only his pair of iron palms. There and then, Hengshan suffered irrecoverable collapse, never again able to hold its position in wulin. But today, how come he couldn’t even beat a little girl like Huang Rong? And could it be true that he had facial neigong, able to injure opponents by firing their force back at them? Not only was this unheard of, it didn’t look like it, given his situation.
Just as Ouyang Feng was hesitating, he raised his head and suddenly spotted a document pouch of Sichuan brocade hanging aslant from Huang Yaoshi’s shoulder, with a camel embroidered in white silk on its surface - the property, as it happened, of his own nephew. Deep down, he couldn’t help feeling dread. Having left after killing Tan Chuduan and Mei Chaofeng, he had come back again just to collect his nephew. “Could it be that Huang Yaoshi has actually killed the lad in vengeance for his disciple?” he thought.
In a trembling voice, he asked: “What’s happened to my nephew?”
“What’s happened to my disciple Mei Chaofeng is also what’s happened to your nephew,” replied Huang Yaoshi icily.
Ouyang Feng felt half his body go cold. Ouyang Ke had been born because of an illicit liaison between him and his sister-in-law; nephew by name, he was actually his dear son, and he loved this illegitimate son like life itself. He had felt that, although Huang Yaoshi and the Quanzhen Taoists had established deep grievances with him, all of these people were renowned champions in jianghu; with Ouyang Ke unable to move either of his legs an inch, there was no way they’d cause him trouble. He just had to wait for them to disperse, before taking his son to a quiet place where he’d recuperate from his injuries. Little did he know that Ouyang Ke had already met with brutality.
Huang Yaoshi watched him standing there, eyes staring straight ahead, about to launch a sudden attack any moment now. He knew that this would be unleashed with a mountain-moving, ocean-churning violence, an unstoppable force; inwardly, he readied himself.
“Who’s the killer?” growled Ouyang Feng. “One of yours, or one of Quanzhen’s?” He knew that, with Huang Yaoshi’s exalted status, he’d never kill with his own hands someone who had two broken legs. He must have got somebody else to do it. By now, Ouyang Feng’s naturally harsh voice had become even more ear-piercingly jarring.
Huang Yaoshi answered coldly: “A brat who’s studied Quanzhen martial arts plus some skills from Peach Blossom Island, and who’s well acquainted with you. You go and look for him.”
Huang Yaoshi was actually talking of Yang Kang, but when Ouyang Feng thought about it, Guo Jing instantly came to mind. Bursting with rage and anguish, for a moment he aimed a ferocious glare at Guo Jing, and then turned his head to Huang Yaoshi. “What the heck are you doing taking my nephew’s document pouch?” he asked.
“If the master map of Peach Blossom Island was with him, I had to take it back,” said Huang Yaoshi. “In digging down to search for the map, it was necessary for me to trouble your excellent nephew - after his burial - with the sight of daylight once again. Of that, I feel rather regretful. It’s a shame that although he had the document pouch on him, within the pouch, that master map was nowhere to be seen; the search ended up being a waste of Heretic Huang’s efforts. Still, we 794 Eagle Shooting Hero
definitely gave the remains of your nephew a proper resting-place; we dared not have it the least bit deficient.”
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br /> “Well said, well said,” remarked Ouyang Feng.
He was aware that victory and defeat against Huang Yaoshi would be hard to tell apart until after one or two thousand moves had been exchanged, and that he’d not necessarily be the one standing in the ascendancy. Fortunately, he’d already gotten his hands on the 9 Yin Scripture, and anyway, there was no impatience for the day of revenge. But if Qiu Qianren could beat up the Jiangnan Six, Guo Jing and Huang Rong - and afterwards, come to his assistance - the two of them joining forces might take the life of Huang Yaoshi there and then. At this time of bereavement, from the sudden news that his dear son had been killed, he was still capable of coolly appraising the situation between himself and the enemy; and having calculated the chances of winning were higher, he wasn’t willing to let the opportunity go. He turned his head to Qiu Qianren.
“Brother Qianren,” he said, “you massacre these eight, while I deal with Heretic Huang.”
Qiu Qianren laughed and gave a few gentle waves of his big cattail-leaf fan. “That’s fine,” he said. “I’ll come and help you after I’ve massacred these eight.”
“Precisely,” said Ouyang Feng.
And with that one word, he fixed his glaring eyes on Huang Yaoshi, and slowly began crouching down. Huang Yaoshi, his legs in a ‘half-nail, half-V’ stance, stepped eastward into a ‘Z-tree’ position. In a moment, the two men were about to use world-class martial arts to distinguish the strong and the weak, the living and the dead.
“Massacre me first!” giggled Huang Rong.
Qiu Qianren shook his head. “Young miss is so cute and lively,” he said, “I almost can’t bear to do it.. .Oh shit! Oh shit!” He was suddenly clutching his belly with both hands and bending over at the waist. “At this time, of all the rotten coincidences.”
“What?” said Huang Rong, puzzled.
“You wait a moment,” said Qiu Qianren, a strained look on his face. “I’ve suddenly got a stomachache. I must be excused!”
Huang Rong spluttered, for once not knowing what to say. Qiu Qianren, his brows knitted in an expression of discomfort, gave another moan; clutching his crotch with both hands, he ran off to one side, a limp in his step. From the look of things, he’d had a sudden stomach-ache and, unable to hold it in, had pooped into his pants. Huang Rong, aghast, had a feeling that he was eight-tenths faking it. But worried that he really did have diarrhoea, she looked on wide-eyed and let him run past, not daring to get in his way.
