by Jin Yong
Second Shifu was known in the jianghu as Quick Hands for his superb sleight of hand. He could empty any pocket and take any object from a person without being detected, and, over the years, even the most sensitive and guarded of martial Masters had been caught out.
Could he really have come here to steal? Guo Jing began to doubt himself.
No! Never! A voice shrieked inside. Second Shifu was an honorable man. He had never craved riches and wealth. He had only used his skill against wrongdoers. Never for personal gain. He could never do something so despicable. There has to be another reason. It has to be so.
Torn between the facts before his eyes and the memory of the man he loved and revered, Guo Jing felt a throbbing pressure mounting in his skull. It was playing tricks with his vision, making the room dark one moment and blinding bright the next. He screwed his fists into tight balls, his joints popping and cracking with tension.
Lotus could see that he, like her, was wrestling with this grim new chapter in their existence.
“If you want to take my life, do it now.” Her voice was almost inaudible. “The other day, when I saw the look on your first shifu’s face, I knew we could never find happiness together. Mama is over there. Please, lay my body next to hers, then leave this island as fast as you can. Don’t let Papa find you here.”
Guo Jing did not seem to have heard a word. He started to pace back and forth, sucking in big mouthfuls of air and emptying his lungs noisily.
Lotus left him to it and went to seek solace from her mother. She parted the drapes behind the offering table and made for the sarcophagus, only to find—ah!—yet another grisly tableau displayed before her.
Ryder Han was slouched over the far end of the casket, facedown. Five bloody holes in the crown of his head, dug by human fingers, yawning at her.
Slumped close to him was his cousin Jade Han. She too was supported by the coffin. It looked as though she knew she stood no chance and could not bear the thought of being mutilated by the person who had caused this carnage, instead taking the matter into her own hands, slitting her throat with her sword and clinging to her trusty blade, even in death.
But, before she had expired, she had dipped her fingertips in blood and made a mark on the top of the casket.
On the slab of lustrous white jade that adorned the precious container, carved from a golden-hue nanmu laurel tree.
This was how Lotus found the youngest Freak. Her fingers splayed in the midst of writing a character. Death had claimed her before she could complete her task.
A little cross on the luminous nephrite.
Whether Jade Han had used her own vital fluid or her cousin’s as ink, there was no way to tell, yet, in the five bloody streaks dragged across the white surface by her fingers, Lotus could see the life sapping from the woman as she was pulled down by the weight of her own body. It was a gruesome sight, but she could not tear her eyes away until she was shoved aside.
“Seventh Shifu, I know what you’re trying to write,” Guo Jing croaked. “‘Apothecary Huang’! I know. I will bring you revenge.”
He stole over to Ryder Han’s body, speaking softly as he settled the diminutive man on the floor. “I saw Cyclone Mei die with my own eyes, Third Shifu. Her Master is the one person left on this earth who could have done this to you. I will give you revenge.”
He turned his attention back to the youngest Freak, arranging her body into a more dignified and restful position. He then marched past Lotus and across the burial chamber, disappearing up the passageway.
Lotus was rooted to the spot, her heart frozen stiff. Twice had he pushed past her … She was invisible to him.
What little light Guo Jing’s tinderbox offered had departed with him, leaving her in the murk of the tomb. An unspeakable fear gripped her, even though she had spent many hours on her own down there and knew every inch of the place.
Not anymore. Not when there were four extra bodies.
The thought sent her scrambling up the tunnel, almost tripping over in her desperation to get out. When she was back in the warmth of daylight, she realized what must have made her stumble. The corpse of Gilden Quan.
2
After taking a moment to pull herself together, Lotus reached automatically for the mechanism to shut the entrance to the tomb. She had always done so after visiting her mother, and so had her father …
Why hadn’t Papa closed it this time? The question dispelled some of the fog that had been blurring her mind since she had first set eyes on the dead horse. Was he in a great hurry? But he’d never leave Mama unguarded and exposed to the elements … Wait, there were three dead men inside. Papa would never, ever let them keep Mama company—under no circumstances would he allow that. Could … could he have fallen prey to …
She shifted the gravestone to cover the tomb entrance, tapped each side of the portal thrice to seal it and ran to investigate their living quarters.
Although Guo Jing had come above ground earlier, he was ensnared by the island’s meandering paths within a few dozen paces. It was sheer luck that Lotus was heading in the same direction. He waited for her to overtake him and tailed her closely, but neither chose to acknowledge the other’s presence. After burrowing through a bamboo grove and skirting a lotus pond, they arrived at a rustic complex built from unstripped pine—Apothecary Huang’s chambers.
“Papa! Papa!” Lotus ran inside.
Here too, violence had left its mark. Cracked columns standing askew. Tables and chairs upended. Books and writing instruments scattered on the floor. Hanging scrolls ripped and torn.
Papa? Where are you? She gripped the upturned desk for support, to cling on to what little control she had left. No, this can’t be—she tried to convince herself—this isn’t right …
She rushed to the servants’ lodgings. Not a soul in sight. The stove was cold. Dirty bowls cluttered the worktop. Some contained congealed leftovers, as though they had been abandoned mid-meal. If anybody had survived the attack, they were long gone.
Guo Jing and Lotus were the only people left alive on the island.
She trudged back to the main house and found Guo Jing standing in the middle of the study, exactly where she had left him. His unseeing eyes were fixed on an imaginary spot; his face was wooden, blank.
“Cry, Guo Jing. Go on, cry.”
She could imagine the depth of his grief, for the bond he shared with the Freaks was as profound as that between any parent and child. She was also aware that he needed to find a release for the emotional pressures mounting inside him, since abrupt swings of extreme feelings could cause serious internal injuries to one who had attained an advanced level of neigong.
But, as soon as Lotus uttered his name, she felt herself overwhelmed by all that she had seen and felt. Her knees gave way and her voice faltered. When she finally got a grip of herself, the thought came to her that, if she could find some clues to explain what had happened, perhaps she could jolt him out of his catatonic state … She pushed herself to her feet and started rummaging through the desk drawers. In the top right compartment, she found a note written in a hand she did not know, but, just as she was unfolding the paper, it was snatched away from her. Guo Jing had recognized the calligraphy as his second shifu’s:
The lowly wanderers of the South—Ke Zhen’e, Zhu Cong, Ryder Han, Woodcutter Nan, Gilden Quan and Jade Han—bow to Master Huang, Lord of Peach Blossom Island.
The letter flapped in his shaking hands as his eyes ran over it.
We have come across the hearsay that the Six Masters of the Quanzhen Sect have been provoked by slanderous tongues and laid blame upon Peach Blossom Island. We know in our hearts that they are mistaken in this matter, but the voice of base vassals such as we is inconsequential, we could not hope to win the serious hearing of both parties and bring peace.
The Master is one of the greatest heroes of our age, in the same league as the Double Sun Immortal Wang Chongyang. For a surety, it would not befit your honor to yield to or to grapple with
those who are your junior.
The praises of a thousand ages were heaped upon Chancellor Lin Xiangru, for he halted and turned back his palanquin to give way to General Lian Po, and thus avoided confronting might with might.
Among great heroes thence and now, is there one who does not boast a bosom as wide as the sea? To breed quarrels as trifling as that of chickens pecking at worms is beneath the Master’s repute and, in troth, is unworthy of the Master’s standing.
For one day shall the disciples of Quanzhen come to the steps of Peach Blossom Island carrying canes on their backs, like General Lian Po when he at last saw the error of his haughty spirit, and the Master’s great virtue would be known and admired by every man of honor under the heavens. A noble conclusion that would be.
The note brought Guo Jing’s mind back to the battle between Apothecary Huang and the Seven Immortals of the Quanzhen Sect in the dilapidated inn at Ox Village, when Viper Ouyang dealt Eternal Truth Tan Chuduan a secret death blow and laid the blame on the Heretic. In his recollection, the Lord of Peach Blossom Island was too proud to clear up the misunderstanding and seemed to revel in the Quanzhen Masters’ hatred for him.
Guo Jing attempted to make sense of what he had witnessed so far. My shifus must have discovered that the Quanzhen Sect were going to Peach Blossom Island to seek revenge, and sent this letter to dissuade Apothecary Huang from engaging them in a direct confrontation, so there would be a chance for both sides to see the truth one day. They did this out of the goodness of their hearts to prevent bloodshed, and yet that heartless man thanked them with murder!
But why come to Peach Blossom Island when they had already sent this letter? They must have heard that the Quanzhen Sect were already on their way, and feared that their note was not persuasive enough. They must have wanted to talk both sides down, to stand between them and stop them from fighting …
Oh Heretic, you beast! Guo Jing cursed. I know how it went! You thought my shifus came to help the Quanzhen monks and you unleashed your evil on them, not bothering to confirm whose side they were on.
Timidly, Lotus peeled the letter out from between Guo Jing’s fingers. He did not seem to register her action at all. She tried to rein in her galloping thoughts so she could take in the content with a clear head.
They had come with good intentions, but the wretched Quick Hands was too set in his thieving ways, she concluded as she put the note back into the drawer. He could not resist the temptations of Mama’s treasures and did the unspeakable, so Papa …
* * *
SHE HAD been standing in silence for some time when she heard Guo Jing muttering under his breath: “I won’t kill her. I won’t kill her…”
“You should cry.”
“I won’t cry. I won’t cry…” he repeated in a whisper, until the only sound was the murmuring waves.
The song of the sea had been a constant companion in Lotus’s life, and memories of her first fifteen years on the island swelled like a rising tide. They splattered against the fringes of her mind, like the billow’s sprays, vanishing as swiftly as they had appeared.
“I should bury my shifus. Shouldn’t I? Is that what I should do?” Guo Jing’s voice brought her back to the present.
“Yes, you should,” she answered, though she knew he was not speaking to her. She headed back to her mother’s grave with an impassive Guo Jing trailing at her heels.
* * *
LOTUS WAS reaching for the mechanism to open the mausoleum when a mighty force pressed into her. She leaped to the side to find an airborne Guo Jing sweeping his foot into the headstone.
Carved from the hardest granite, the stone slab stood in defiance. The full force of Guo Jing’s martial prowess only succeeded in knocking it a fraction askew, while bright red blood was fast staining his sock, his shoe and the hem of his trousers. Undeterred, he pummeled his fists against the rock, before pulling out Gilden Quan’s fractured steelyard to aid his attack on the stoic memorial. Shards of stone flew in a shower of sparks, yet the only thing that succumbed to his strength was what remained of his sixth shifu’s weapon. He flung the battered iron beam away and thrust with both palms, drawing on his neigong without holding anything in reserve. The recalcitrant rock finally snapped in half, revealing a metal rod running through its core. He grabbed it, twisting and wresting, and the tomb tunnel revealed itself with an agonized creak.
Guo Jing stood motionless, staring into the place of death.
“Only he knows how to open the tomb. Only he could have tricked my teachers inside. It has to be him! It can only be him! It’s him!” With a wild howl to the skies, Guo Jing sprinted down the dark passage.
Lotus stared at her mother’s headstone, which had stood over the tomb’s entrance just moments ago. Now it lay shattered and scarred, the once pristine surface marred by bloody handprints. The animus that had fueled its destruction lingered in its debris.
If he tries to defile Mama’s casket, it will be over my dead body! She braced herself to go underground again.
Just then, Guo Jing emerged with Gilden Quan’s remains. He set his mentor down with reverence and went inside again, bringing up the bodies of Zhu Cong, Ryder Han and Jade Han, one by one, with solemn ceremony.
Lotus let him perform his labors uninterrupted. She could sense that his smallest movements conveyed his wholehearted devotion to his Masters.
He loves them far more than he will ever love me, she realized, as a biting chill spread from her core to her extremities. The urge to find her father grew stronger still, and yet somehow she was unable to tear herself away. She shadowed him as he carried his shifus one by one into the woods, some hundred paces from her mother’s tomb.
Guo Jing thrust Jade Han’s sword into the ground to dig a burial pit, plunging the sharpened steel with increasing force and velocity, until—pak!—it could not withstand his crazed fury any longer, breaking off at the hilt.
A burst of anguish surged up from Guo Jing’s chest. He opened his mouth in a voiceless cry and out shot fresh blood. Not once, but twice. He paid no attention. He simply cast what was left of the sword aside and squatted on his heels, tearing up soil with his bare hands, flinging it away in a manic frenzy.
Lotus fetched two spades from the gardener’s hut and threw one to him. Guo Jing caught it without a word or a look of acknowledgment. Yet, the moment she planted hers in the ground, it was ripped out of her hands and tossed away in two pieces.
Lotus backed away from him. Her legs fell out from under her. She had no more tears to shed.
Guo Jing attacked the earth with every fiber of his being, and, in no time at all, he had two graves ready. He cradled Jade Han’s body and laid it in the smaller pit before kowtowing to his seventh shifu. He stared at her for a long while, then, with utmost tenderness, he covered her with earth.
He lifted Zhu Cong into his arms, but paused when he noticed the bulge in his mentor’s shirt. Jewels from the tomb.
How can I let that man’s filthy gems keep Second Shifu company for eternity? The idea turned Guo Jing’s stomach. Balancing the body against his own with one arm, he removed the trinkets from his teacher’s pockets and tossed them away without a second glance. Once his Master’s corpse was free from their contamination, he set the Second Freak down and noticed that there was still something in his left hand. Guo Jing wrested the fingers open and found a jade shoe, just over an inch in length. He hurled it on the ground with a fie! He had nothing but revulsion for these pointless, pretty things.
Although Lotus could not see very well from where she was sitting several steps away, she was certain that it did not belong to her mother. Where had Zhu Cong found this exquisite plaything? she wondered. Even from a distance, she could discern the masterful craftsmanship and the lifelike details of this dainty miniature maiden’s shoe, captured in the highest quality green jade.
Guo Jing stared vacantly into the pit he had prepared for his mentors, and, with reverent care, he laid Zhu Cong, Ryder Han and Gilden Quan to rest.
He scooped up a handful of earth but he could not bear the thought of scattering it.
“Second Shifu, Third Shifu, Sixth Shifu!” he cried in the same respectful, loving tone he had always used to address his Masters, taking in their faces one last time. Then the glinting jewels caught his eye again. He dropped the spade, swept up the offending items and took off for the tomb.
Lotus rushed after him, fearful that he might further deface her mother’s memorial, and threw herself, arms wide, in front of the undefended entrance.
“What are you doing?”
He pushed her aside and hurled the gems into the dark tunnel. Most of them clinked and tinkled their way down toward the burial chamber, but the jade shoe landed by Lotus’s feet. She picked it up and saw the character zhao—beckon or recruit—carved on the heel, and the character bi, which means compare or compete, on the insole.
“This does not belong to my mother,” she said, holding it up.
Guo Jing stared past her, then turned away without a word. He ran back to his teachers and covered their remains with earth.
3
Dusk was approaching. Almost half a day had passed since the traumatic discovery and Guo Jing had yet to shed a tear or show any emotion but rage. Lotus, who had grown ever more concerned about his internal state, thought perhaps he would be able to vent his pent-up feelings in private. She left him at the burial site and went back to the main house to look for some food. She returned an hour later with a slapdash meal of dried fish and cured ham, and found Guo Jing standing in exactly the same place and in the same posture as when she had left him, a statue in the encroaching gloom.
