by Jin Yong
Sole Light picked up the copy of Sutralamkara Sastra from the low table next to him and turned the leaves until he found the passage he was looking for.
“There was a king, whose name was Sivi,” he read aloud. “And he followed the ascetic path and sought enlightenment perfect and supreme. It came to pass that he happened by chance upon a hawk chasing after a dove. And the dove hid itself under the arm of King Sivi, trembling and wounded.
“The hawk asked the king to return his prey unto him, saying, ‘The king saveth the dove, the hawk dieth for hunger.’ And King Sivi pondered the words of the hawk: To save one and hurt another is unrighteous. And he took a sharp knife and cut a piece of his own thigh for the hawk.
“The hawk said unto the king, ‘The king’s flesh should be the same as the dove by weight.’ And King Sivi sent for a balance, and laid the dove on one scale and his flesh on the other.
“He trimmed all the flesh from his thighs, but the scale holding the dove was lower. He cut flesh from his chest, his back, his arm, his belly, but his offering still weighed less than the dove. And so the king stepped onto the scale.
“And the earth quaked and music sounded from the heavens. And celestial apsaras scattered petals and fragrance filled the roads. And devas and yaksas in the firmament sighed, crying, ‘Rejoice! Rejoice! Such good courage has never before been seen.’”
The dignified and heartfelt reading moved all those present.
“She wanted to provoke you into saving me.” Lotus had at last unraveled the final mystery.
“When she left Dali aggrieved, she must have roamed the jianghu seeking martial Masters who could train her so she could take revenge. I expect that was how she encountered Viper Ouyang. It is likely that the Venom helped her devise this plan and sketched the drawing for her. This scripture is well known in the lands of the Western Regions, so he would be familiar with the parable.”
“So this is a sophisticated plot to hurt you … the Venom used Madam Ying and Madam Ying used me.”
“Do not blame yourself. If you hadn’t come across her, she would have hurt someone and sent them my way. It was just a matter of time. For the injured person to reach me, they would have to be accompanied by someone who is extremely skilled in the martial arts. As you rightly observed, this image was painted a long time ago, so this plan of the Venom’s has been in motion for at least a decade. During all that time, she has not come across anyone who could help her claim her revenge—until now. It was destined to be so.”
“It’s because there was something else she cared about more than retribution.”
“What could that be?”
“She wants to rescue the Hoary Urchin from Peach Blossom Island!” Lotus explained how Madam Ying had been trying to teach herself the art of reckoning and the principles of the Mysterious Gates. “Then she met me and realized she would never catch up with Papa, not in a hundred years. And since I happened to be injured—”
Sole Light laughed and got to his feet. “At last, everything has come together for her today.” He turned to his disciples, adopting a stern expression. “Prepare to receive Consort Liu—no, Madam Ying—and guide her here. Treat her with the utmost courtesy.”
“Shifu!” The four men fell to their knees, tears staining their faces.
“You’ve been with me for so many years. Can you still not understand what is in here?” The monk slapped his chest, then turned to Guo Jing and Lotus. “I hope I can ask one thing of you.”
“Of course,” they answered as one.
“Please descend this mountain now. The debt I owe Madam Ying is too great to be repaid in one lifetime. In future, if she encounters any difficulty or danger, I beg you to come to her aid on behalf of this aged monk. And if you could unite her with Brother Zhou, then I would be forever grateful.”
Guo Jing and Lotus looked at each other, unsure how to respond.
“I hope I am not asking too great a favor.”
After a moment of hesitation, Lotus said, “Your word is our command,” and tugged Guo Jing’s sleeve so he would join her in bowing low to take their leave.
“There is no need for you to see Madam Ying again. There is another way down on the other side of the mountain.”
Acknowledging the monk’s instructions, Lotus turned and headed out of the room, hand in hand with Guo Jing.
The four disciples threw curses at her back. How could she walk away, so calm and carefree, so callous and ungrateful, when danger was about to befall the man who had restored her life?
But Guo Jing knew Lotus would not stand by—she must already have devised a plan—so he followed her without a word. The moment they stepped outside the room, she whispered in his ear. He hesitated at the doorway, then nodded and turned around.
Seeing Guo Jing’s approach, Sole Light repeated his request. “You are honest and loyal and you have a kind heart. You shall become a great man. I am counting on you in this matter concerning Madam Ying.”
“I shall do everything I can to fulfill Uncle’s command.” While his pledge was still lingering in the air, Guo Jing’s hand shot out to grab the Sindhu monk’s wrist—the man had not moved from Sole Light’s side all this time. A moment later, his finger landed first on the Florid Canopy pressure point on the monk’s sternum, then on the Celestial Pillar at the back of his neck, locking the movement of his limbs.
“What are you doing?” Sole Light demanded. His students gaped, aghast, and scrambled to respond. None of them had envisaged this turn of events.
Guo Jing answered by reaching for the monk’s shoulder, trapping him under the power of his palm thrust.
Sole Light flipped his hand and, brisk as lightning, had the young man’s wrist in his grasp. A supreme counterattack. The crisp and precise reflex caught Guo Jing unawares, yet the contact also revealed the monk’s depleted internal strength.
Guo Jing responded with a Reverse Grapple, twirling his palm around to lock onto a spot on the back of Sole Light’s hand that would numb the whole arm, while he swung a Dragon Whips Tail to throw off the fisher and the logger, who were charging at him from behind.
“Forgive me, Uncle.”
Guo Jing tapped twice on the monk’s right flank, at the Essence Spur point under his armpit and the Phoenix Tail toward the base of his spine. Then he whipped up a storm of palm strikes to drive the fisher, the logger and the scholar out of the room. The air crackled with his neigong. The men tried to defend themselves, to hold their ground, but any contact with this force field numbed their arms and compelled their feet to shuffle in retreat.
“Stop! Please!” the scholar entreated, unable to fathom the boy’s sudden aggression.
Lotus had also slipped back into the chamber and was chasing the farmer out with the Dog Beater. The big man charged like a maddened tiger, desperate to help his stricken Master. Thrice he pounced, and thrice he was pushed back.
Once all four of Sole Light’s students had been forced to retreat to the courtyard outside, Lotus thrust the Dog-Beating Cane between the farmer’s eyes. Swift, fierce, accurate.
“Aiiiyaaaa!” The man reeled backward and catapulted himself away from her.
“Nice move!” She spun round to pull the doors shut, then regarded the men with a smile. “Please, allow me to speak.”
Guo Jing pulled back the palm thrust he was about to launch at the fisher and the logger. “Forgive us,” he said, cupping his hands.
The four men gaped at each other.
“Please believe us that we mean no offense at all.” Lotus spoke with humility. “We only wish to help. We could not possibly stand aside and do nothing when my savior is in peril.”
The scholar stepped forward and bowed low. “Miss, we trust that you can find a way to keep our shifu safe. We could not defy his express command and prevent her arrival. Nor could we raise a hand against her, as she was our Master’s consort and our Mistress. We are aware that he would have welcomed her knife without a murmur, even if he had his full martial strength,
for he longs to be free from the torment caused by the … the child’s death. But how could we live with ourselves if we stood by and let it happen? We would lay down our lives to do your bidding.”
“We too are bound to Reverend Sole Light by a great debt of gratitude and will do everything in our power to avert the danger,” Lotus replied, uncharacteristically solemn. “It would be best if we could keep Madam Ying from entering this temple, but I very much doubt that it will be possible. She has waited for more than ten years in her fetid swamp for this one chance—she must have planned for every eventuality and will not be easily dissuaded. There is one way we could resolve this situation once and for all, but it’s a risky gamble since we are up against someone who is smart, cunning and determined. I wish there was another way.”
“Please, tell us,” they begged.
Lotus began to elaborate, her eyes alive with anticipation. Her audience exchanged glances, unsure what to think of her audacious plan.
4
The sun began its slow retreat. The breeze stole in with the night, swaying the rows of palm trees guarding the temple and rustling the wilted lotus leaves covering the pond. The half-light threw a craggy shadow across the temple, in the shape of a giant sleeping on the ground.
The four disciples sat cross-legged at the end of the broken stone bridge, peering into the gloaming, their hearts ill at ease. As twilight faded into gloom, a milky haze drifted up from the ravine. A murder of crows flew past, cawing, then dived into the murky darkness below.
No sign of anyone advancing toward their side of the bridge.
The four followers of Sole Light were each haunted by their own thoughts. The logger prayed that Consort Liu would realize at the last minute that his Master had not caused any of the misfortune she had suffered and would turn back in peace, whereas the fisher was certain that keeping them waiting was part of her infernal plot. The impetuous farmer just wished that she would appear that instant so this wretched business could be over—he cared little for the consequences for himself.
Foreboding clouded the scholar’s mind. The longer it takes her to get here, the more treacherous our situation will be, he told himself. He had never felt this listless and helpless during his long years of service in the Dali court, where he had faced and overcome his share of crises.
A chill crept up his spine as the cry of a faraway owl sounded, just as the last trace of light was blotted from the sky. Is there really no way to resolve this amicably? he asked himself. Is it inevitable that Shifu will die at the hand of this woman?
“She’s here!” The logger’s whispered warning interrupted the scholar’s thoughts.
A shadowy blur was speeding toward them, gliding over each gap on the bridge as if its body were immaterial. The improvement in her kung fu was frightening to behold.
The scholar and his fellows got to their feet and took up positions on each side of the bridge, ready to receive their Mistress.
Although she was robed head to toe in black, in stark contrast to the colorful finery of her imperial days, there was no mistaking it was her.
Consort Liu. King Duan’s favorite from the palace.
The men fell to their knees, prostrated and chanted in unison, as though at court: “We bow to Your Highness.”
“Your Highness? Consort Liu died a long time ago. I am Madam Ying.” She surveyed the men kneeling to her left and right. “Here we meet again, Great Chancellor, Grand Marshal, Commander of the Navy and Captain of the Imperial Guard. I thought His Majesty received the tonsure because he had freed himself from the shackles of worldly affairs, yet in fact he has been holding court from this mountain hermitage all along.”
The men shivered at the bile in her tone.
“His Majesty is much changed,” the scholar ventured to reply. “Your Highness would not—”
“Your Highness, Your Highness…” Madam Ying scowled. “Enough of your derision! And enough of your kneeling too! I don’t want your stiff respect for the dead.”
The men glanced at one another and stood up, speaking in one voice in the palace tradition: “We wish madam peace.”
Madam Ying waved their words away. “I know he has sent you here to block my path, so why bother with these courtesies? Go on. Show me your kung fu. I know how many lives you men—king and court—have ruined and destroyed. You don’t need to put on an act for this common old crone.”
“His Majesty loves the people as his own flesh and blood,” the scholar said. “To this day, the people of Dali still praise his benevolent reign. His Majesty has also never been wanton with the lives of those under his rule, even those who have committed grievous crimes. He has often been lenient—”
“Enough!” Madam Ying’s own trespass crept up on her like the blush darkening her cheeks.
The scholar lowered his head. “Pardon your humble servant.”
“My servant?” she sneered. “I am here to see Duan Zhixing. Will you let me pass?”
Duan Zhixing. The sound of those three characters sent shock waves through the four former courtiers. They were aware, of course, that they represented the name given to their lord and liege, but, as they were his subjects, just to consider addressing him so directly would amount to an unforgiveable offense—to voice them out loud was unthinkable.
The farmer, who had once led the Imperial Guard, could no longer hold his temper in check. “Once a king, always a king! You cannot speak of him in such terms.”
With a wicked screech of laughter, Madam Ying launched toward them at a run. The men repositioned themselves to block her path, their arms flung wide. They were confident they could hold her back. They would deal with the consequences of going against Shifu’s orders later …
She charged headlong at their blockade, making no move to swing a fist or thrust a palm to scatter the men.
Fearing her body would slam into his, the logger skewed to the side and reached out to grab her shoulder. His fingers grazed her robes, slipping off the fabric as if he were trying to grasp a smooth flat surface.
The farmer and the fisher swooped in from either side, roaring and growling. She dived low and slid away from under the fisher’s arm like a water snake.
A faint fragrance of orchid and musk wafted toward the fisher’s nose and panic gripped his heart—it would break all rules of propriety if he brought his elbow down and trapped her in an embrace. He flung his arm higher, as far away from her body as he could.
But the farmer had no such qualms. He lunged, his hands opened wide—two clamps ready to close around her waist.
“Manners, Brother!”
The farmer ignored the logger’s warning. He could already feel her beneath his fingertips. And yet she slid out of his grasp, as though he had taken hold of a handful of grease.
Weatherfish Slip kung fu, inspired by the black marsh she called home.
Confident that the disciples could not handle her, and having evaded three of them with little effort, Madam Ying was now ready to retaliate, aiming a backhanded slap at the farmer.
The scholar stepped forward to intercept, tapping at the pressure points on her wrist after twirling an arm past her guard. This simple maneuver harnessed the power of a lifetime’s martial training.
Madam Ying’s forefinger flew at the scholar’s outstretched digit, and what began as a numbing sting from the touch of her fingertip became a jolt that ripped like a crack of lightning through his body. With a cry, the scholar crashed to the ground. The fisher and the logger rushed to his aid, while the farmer swung a left hook at Madam Ying.
Madam Ying watched the farmer’s punch hurtle toward her face, heavy as a hammer blow, without so much as flinching. Her nonchalance gave him pause: I’ll crack her skull and splatter her brains … He wanted to wrench away, but his knuckles were already skimming the tip of her nose. She cocked her head faintly and his fist glanced off her cheek. He knew he needed to pull back now that his strike had failed to land, but she was faster, trapping his wrist. He tugged and struggled
, trying to free himself from her grasp. Crack! Shards of pain shot down his arm. She had knocked his forearm out of joint with an uppercut. Not one to yield easily, he clenched his teeth and poked his right index finger into the crook of her elbow.
The farmer and his peers had been taught the art of pressure-point locking by Sole Light himself. Though they had yet to reach the dizzying heights of their Master’s skill in Yang in Ascendance, they were among the most accomplished practitioners of this combat technique alive.
Of course, Madam Ying had long known that, if she were to avenge her son’s death, she would need to develop a way to foil these potent taps of the finger, and she had eventually found inspiration from embroidery, a craft at which she—like many women of her time—excelled. She had forged a golden band that fitted over the tip of her right forefinger. This ring held in place a needle, one-third of an inch long, which she laced with a deadly poison. Like all masters of needlework, she had keen eyesight and a steady hand. After several years practice, she could skewer a fly midair.
“The fingers to the heart connect.” The well-known saying described the strong and immediate connection between the extremities and the core. At the very tip of the index finger is the Metal Yang acupoint, which is the first point in the Large Intestine Meridian that travels up the arm to the nose.
This was the spot where Madam Ying had struck the scholar, and now she was poised to do the same to the farmer. With a smirk, she curled her finger slightly, holding it still, directly in the path of his attack. She would let him prick himself on the waiting needle.
Like the scholar, the farmer had put all his strength into his strike, hoping to bring her down with him.
