by Jin Yong
His martial siblings halted their advance, but remained on guard, maintaining their positions in the formation.
“Lord Huang, you are a grandmaster of the martial arts, and we mere students would never set out to cause you offense.” Ma Yu spoke with humility. “Forgive us for using our numbers against you. Might we ask your opinion on how you propose to settle the blood debt we are owed for the deaths of Martial Uncle Zhou and Brother Tan?”
Apothecary Huang scoffed. “What is there to say? Deal your death blow! Kill Heretic Huang to secure the Quanzhen Sect’s reputation. Isn’t that what you want? Let me help you.” Without shifting his feet or lifting his arm, he hacked at Ma Yu’s face with his right hand.
Ma Yu slewed away, shocked that an attack of such complexity and ferocity could be launched with so little warning. It was the ultimate move in the Cascading Peach Blossom Palm, a single swipe of the arm that channeled a torrent of feints and firm strikes in infinite combinations. Huang had been honing this skill for a decade, hoping to use it to win the title of the Greatest Martial Master at the second Contest of Mount Hua. It was developed for use in a one-on-one duel, so he had not used it in the melee, but against Scarlet Sun Ma Yu alone, it could reach its full potential, and nothing the Taoist had learned in his decades of training could help him.
If Ma Yu had held still, he might have suffered only a glancing blow, but instead he swiveled squarely into a palm thrust aimed at his back. He raised his arm to block, only to find the Heretic’s other hand inches from his chest.
My insides will be scrambled by his internal energy, Ma Yu said to himself, feeling no fear, only a strange resignation.
His martial brothers lunged with their swords, but it was too little too late. They were already steeling themselves to witness their eldest brother’s death. Yet, at the last moment, Apothecary Huang pulled back, letting out a savage bark of laughter.
“I know you won’t back down, even if I destroy you one by one. So, come, together, all of you. Do your worst!”
Snorting at the man’s conceit, Liu Chuxuan threw a punch, which Wang Chuyi followed with a sweep of his sword. The Heavenly Northern Dipper was now in its seventeenth permutation, with Ma Yu next in line to thrust with his blade, but the Scarlet Sun Immortal took two steps back instead.
“No! Stop!” He signaled for his martial siblings to lower their weapons. “Lord Huang, we thank you for your clemency.”
Apothecary Huang accepted the humble words with a nod.
“By rights, I should be dead,” Ma Yu continued. “And since you have found the flaw in the formation created by our late Master, we should have the self-awareness to cast down our weapons and acknowledge our defeat, submitting ourselves to your will. However, since a blood feud binds our two martial branches, we have no choice but to seek redress. Once our task is fulfilled, I shall draw my sword across my neck and give my life to thank you, Lord Huang, for the mercy you have shown me.”
The Heretic took a moment to consider Ma Yu’s grave words, then waved them away. “Hard it is to untangle the knots of amity and enmity. There is no need to explain. Make your case with your sword.”
The exchange presented Guo Jing with a quandary. Elder Ma and his brethren are here to avenge their martial uncle and brother, he said to himself, but Brother Zhou is alive and well, and Reverend Tan’s death had nothing to do with Lord Huang. But, if I’m honest about what happened, the Reverends will step aside. Without them, First Shifu and I have no chance of taking our revenge. And yet, to keep that knowledge to myself, would make me the worst kind of scoundrel. My shifus told me many times: we can lose our heads, but never our sense of what’s right.
So he decided to speak up. “Reverend Ma, Reverend Qiu, Reverend Wang,” he cried. “Martial Uncle Zhou is well, and Reverend Tan was killed by Viper Ouyang.”
“What do you mean?” Qiu Chuji asked.
Guo Jing recounted the events he witnessed from the secret room inside the desolated inn at Ox Village as he treated the injury he had sustained at Viper Ouyang’s hands. Unlike Lotus, he was not gifted with words and in the art of storytelling, but he was able to explain with sufficient clarity how Qiu Qianzhang’s lies had led to a fierce fight, how Viper Ouyang had ambushed Tan Chuduan, then Apothecary Huang, and how Cyclone Mei had sacrificed her life to protect her teacher.
The Quanzhen monks might have taken an active part in the events Guo Jing had just described, but their memory of them was rather different. Seeing the doubt on their faces, Guo Jing added, “I want nothing more than to tear this man’s throat out with my teeth, yet I cannot withhold the truth from you.”
Faced with the hatred still burning in Guo Jing’s eyes, Apothecary Huang could not understand why the young man would speak on his behalf. “Why do you hate me so much?” he asked sharply. “And where’s Lotus?”
Ke Zhen’e answered for his disciple. “You know full well what you’ve done. We may not be able to bring him to his knees,” he called to Guo Jing as he swung his iron staff at Apothecary Huang, “but we’ll die trying.”
Tears burst forth as joy gushed through Guo Jing’s heart—First Shifu has forgiven me!—then the gut-churning scenes from Peach Blossom Island came flooding back.
“Second Shifu and … they met such a gruesome fate…”
Apothecary Huang took hold of the end of Ke Zhen’e’s staff, halting his attack, and turned to Guo Jing. “What do you mean? Zhu Cong and the others were enjoying themselves on my island. What are you saying, boy?”
Ke tugged with all his strength, but it had no effect whatsoever.
“Is that why you raise your fists and fill my ears with nonsense?” the Martial Great demanded.
“I know you killed my shifus! I know those hands of yours are covered in their blood!” Eyes wild, Guo Jing hacked down with the dagger, his bloodlust drowning all caution.
Apothecary Huang thrust Ke’s staff into the knife’s path.
Claaang! An explosion of sparks.
“Did anyone see me do it?”
“I buried my five shifus with these hands. I know what I’ve seen.”
“Do you?” he sneered. “Very well. I, the Heretic, have always stood by my deeds. So, yes, you’re right. I killed them!”
“No, Papa! You didn’t! You didn’t kill anybody! Don’t claim what you didn’t do!”
6
Everyone turned to Lotus, amazed that they had not noticed her entering the courtyard.
Guo Jing gaped at her, his heart torn in two.
Apothecary Huang let out a belly laugh. The vitriol he felt for Guo Jing was washed away by relief. “Come, my dear. Let Papa hug you,” he said, spreading his arms wide.
They were the first kind words Lotus had heard since the carnage on Peach Blossom Island. She threw herself into her father’s embrace.
“Pa, he’s wronged you … and he—he’s mean to me,” she said between sobs.
Holding his daughter close, Apothecary Huang said, “For decades, pious fools have piled the wrongs of the world onto your pa. A handful more trespasses make no difference. The Freaks of the South were the nemesis of your martial sister Mei. Why should I not avenge her death?”
“Nooooo! No, no, no! It wasn’t you. I know it wasn’t you!”
“Has that clod been mistreating you?” A cold smile. “Pa will get you justice.” He twirled his hand and—smack!—boxed Guo Jing on the ear. The slap was as swift as lightning, impossible to block.
In the split second it took Guo Jing to register the stinging heat on his cheek, the offending hand had already returned to caressing Lotus’s hair. Guo Jing touched his fingers to his face, at a loss how to respond, for he knew the strike was just for show.
“Guo Jing, are you alright?” Ke had heard the smack and feared the worst.
“I’m fine.”
“Don’t listen to the demon and his evil spawn. I’m blind but I’m not deaf. I heard him with these ears. He snatched the steelyard from your sixth shifu and snapped it in two with his bare hands. Wh
o else on Peach Blossom Island has the skill to do—?” Sensing movement from Guo Jing, Ke Zhen’e swung his Exorcist’s Staff.
Apothecary Huang pushed Lotus to safety, sidestepped Guo Jing’s attack and made a lunge for Ke’s weapon in one fluid movement.
But, this time, the First Freak was prepared, slipping his staff out of his opponent’s grasp. Master and disciple stood side by side, united against the Heretic. But, though Guo Jing had encountered many exceptional martial artists and learned some of the most powerful kung fu under the heavens, his skills still lagged far behind that of the Greats. After two dozen moves, he was already struggling, even with the help of his teacher.
Qiu Chuji was racked by indecision. Guo Jing and Ke Zhen’e had extended a helping hand in the Quanzhen Sect’s time of need. Can we stand by and watch their blood be spilled? he asked himself. The answer was self-evident. They could ascertain if Martial Uncle Zhou was still alive after they had beaten the Heretic.
“Master Ke, please return to the formation,” Qiu called.
By now, Harmony Yin had climbed down from the Tower, and he hurried over to stand protectively behind the Freak, sword drawn. Though his face was bruised and swollen, he did not appear to have suffered any serious injury.
Once more, the Heavenly Northern Dipper formation was on the move, closing in on Apothecary Huang and his daughter.
The Heretic was incensed. You stinking monks are determined to make an enemy of me, aren’t you? Do they think numbers alone can intimidate me? Do they really suppose that I would hesitate to kill them if need be?
One glimpse of her father’s face and Lotus’s heart sank: He won’t hold back now …
Apothecary Huang pounced, hurtling to the left of Ke Zhen’e, but his charge was blocked by Wang Chuyi and Ma Yu.
Meanwhile, Ke took the chance to swing his staff down at Lotus’s shoulder, accompanied by a string of curses: “You sinful witch! You hag of hell! You harlot strumpet!”
Lotus, who never let anyone get the better of her in an argument, was consumed with a burning rage. “I dare you to call me more names!”
The Seven Freaks of the South were descended from butchers, innkeepers and other common folk of the marketplace; insults were a craft they had perfected since childhood. Emboldened by her challenge and fueled by hatred for anyone associated with Peach Blossom Island, Ke Zhen’e hurled yet more vulgar abuse her way.
Even Lotus’s ready wit was no match for the Freak’s profanities, and her sheltered upbringing meant she was largely unfamiliar with such obscenities. It often took a moment or two for her to feel the sting of Ke’s words as they grew increasingly unwholesome.
“Fie! Call yourself a teacher? Such language befouls the lips!”
“I save pleasantries for good people. To a filthy whore, I speak foul!”
Lotus replied with the Dog Beater, jabbing it at the blind man’s face. Ke Zhen’e answered with his Exorcist’s Staff, but, after a brief exchange of cuts and parries, the bamboo cane was dragging the iron staff east and west with the aid of the Draw technique. Not only had Lotus taken control of Ke’s weapon, she had also disrupted the Heavenly Northern Dipper by neutralizing the Heavenly Jade position occupied by the Freak.
Qiu Chuji flashed his sword, spearing its point into Lotus’s back. But the young woman paid him no heed, confident that the Hedgehog Chainmail would protect her, instead unleashing three more moves from the Dog-Beating repertoire on Ke Zhen’e.
Qiu hesitated—What kind of man am I to lay hands on a girl thus?—leaving the hard-pressed Freak without support.
Taking advantage of his indecision, Lotus touched her weapon against Ke’s and twirled her wrist, latching on to an outburst of energy from the Exorcist’s Staff, then flicked her cane to the left. The metal pole shot out of Ke’s hand and plunged into the lake.
Wang Chuyi planted himself in front of the sightless, defenseless old man, sword raised against the Dog-Beating Cane. He had seen many superb martial displays in his time, but nothing as effortless and effective as the one Lotus had just staged.
“First Shifu, let me take over. You need a rest,” Guo Jing called, giving up his place at the North Star. Once he took over the Heavenly Jade position, the formation gained a new edge—and not merely from his kung fu, for he had by now outstripped the Quanzhen Masters, or his familiarity with the principles that underlined the Heavenly Northern Dipper. Guo Jing’s presence at Heavenly Jade shifted the formation’s driving force from Qiu Chuji’s Heavenly Pearl to him, and this new focus, though it left the formation less secure than before, confounded the Heretic with its unfamiliarity. It would take him a good few moves to figure out its flaws, and, even with Lotus’s help, he was beginning to struggle.
Guo Jing was fighting without a care for his life. He prowled forward, flanked by the Quanzhen disciples, who, though happy to lend their support, had no wish to maim or kill. Nevertheless, Apothecary Huang was feeling the pressure, flitting from danger time and again with the aid of his superb lightness qinggong.
Lotus regarded Guo Jing’s demented onslaught in disbelief. Murderous bloodlust was clouding his normally friendly face. I don’t know this Guo Jing, she thought, heartsick, and she threw herself in front of her father, arms flung wide.
“Kill me first!” she cried.
A cold glare as she was shoved out of his path. “Move!”
Is this how you treat me now? she lamented as she stumbled aside.
* * *
“BROTHER APOTHECARY, I’m here to help!” This greeting was followed by a harsh, metallic cackle.
The Quanzhen Masters knew it would be unwise to simply turn around, for they could find themselves trapped between the newcomer and their opponent. Working their way to the far side of Apothecary Huang in formation, they saw half a dozen men standing on the lakefront. In their midst, the wiry figure of Viper Ouyang, Venom of the West.
The Taoists howled at the sight of their brother’s murderer.
“Guo Jing, let’s have our reckoning with the Venom first!” Qiu Chuji cried, brandishing his sword and advancing on Viper Ouyang with his martial siblings in tow.
The young man did not hear the monk at all. He lunged at Apothecary Huang, exchanging five or six blows in a trice, then leaped back to catch his breath. Glaring at the Heretic, he lowered his shoulders and drew in his chest, ready for the next round.
Ke Zhen’e listened closely with his head cocked. He was waiting for a chance to lock his arms around Apothecary Huang so Guo Jing could finish him off.
Resigned to the fact that neither Guo Jing nor Ke Zhen’e would help them complete the formation, Qiu Chuji beckoned Harmony Yin to take the Heavenly Jade position. Once the novice was in place, Ma Yu quoted Tan Chuduan’s final words:
“The Way is found not in beads or brush.
Nature’s music comes not from the flute.”
A storm of thrusting palms and slicing swords, fueled by grief and vengeance, whipped into Viper Ouyang.
The Venom’s Serpent Staff darted left and right. The Taoists drew back. Viper recalled the formation’s might from Ox Village and proceeded with caution, waiting for them to betray any weakness. It did not take long for him to gather that Harmony Yin’s position was the least fortified. If he could get rid of the young monk, he would dominate the battle. Heartened, he focused his assault on the boy, while keeping an eye on the other fight.
Guo Jing and Apothecary Huang were now tussling at close quarters. Lotus was able to keep Ke Zhen’e at bay with the Dog-Beating Cane, but her pleas of “Stop!” and “Listen to me!” fell on deaf ears.
By now, Guo Jing had sheathed his dagger and was fighting with his bare palms. Thrusting, swiping, striking, an incessant bombardment. At first, Apothecary Huang held back for Lotus’s sake, but he was soon irritated by the constant buzzing, and his responses grew harsh as his heart hardened.
One small mistake now would prove fatal. As panic began to rise up in her throat, Lotus noticed Count Seven Hong observing the
fight from the first floor of the Tower of Mist and Rain.
“Shifu! Help! They’ll listen to you!”
Count Seven had been an anxious onlooker, frustrated that he could do nothing thanks to his diminished kung fu. Lotus’s cry gave him an idea. Perhaps the Old Heretic still considers me a friend …
He hauled himself up onto the balustrade and jumped, gliding down to land on the battlefield.
“Oi! Hark the Old Beggar!”
The reputation of the Divine Vagrant Nine Fingers still carried weight. The fighting ceased.
Viper Ouyang was shaken to the core by Count Seven’s dramatic intervention. How had he managed to regain his kung fu?
Over the last couple of days, Count Seven had been using the secret method from the Nine Yin Manual to reconnect his Eight Extraordinary Meridians, and the results had been incredible—he had repaired one energy flow, and, with it, a third of his lightness qinggong. His internal strength in combat was still no more than that of a heavyset man new to the martial arts, but he could appear as fleet of foot as before. Even the hawk-eyed Viper was unable to tell that his sprightliness contained no substance at all.
Count Seven was gleeful to see that, in his weakened state, he still had the authority to command an audience, but what could he say to calm the Quanzhen monks and convince the Venom to retreat? He threw back his head and laughed. It was simply an act to buy some time, but his eyes alighted on the newly risen moon and …
Not quite a perfect circle yet …
“I can see some of the greatest fighters of the wulin before me,” he said. “But now I realize you’re just a bunch of rogues and knaves—you give your word as casually as you break wind.”
Count Seven Hong was known for his forthright attitude, so no one took offense at his crude chastisement—he would not have offered it without good cause.
“We beg the Master to enlighten us.” Ma Yu cupped his hands in respect and bowed.
“I heard there’d be a fight by the Tower of Mist and Rain on Moon Festival and decided to turn up early to have a nose around. And, since the crack of dawn, I’ve been treated to this constant shouting and banging—you lot running about with your soil-bucket formations and pissy urinal lineups, husbands beating wives, sons-in-law fighting fathers, screeching and shrieking like pigs to the slaughter. All day long and none of you thought about granting this Old Beggar a moment’s peace—I was so looking forward to a nap after my mutton leg. Look up. Look! What day is it today?”
