by Jin Yong
Viper was reminded of the time they had fought palm to palm in the cave behind the waterfall, in the grounds of the Song Emperor’s palace in Lin’an. Their two inner forces had clashed directly then, and, of course, his had proved stronger. He could sense that Guo Jing now had far greater powers of endurance; though, if it came to a battle of attrition, the young man would still end up dead or seriously injured.
So, the Martial Great tried the same maneuver he had pulled in the cave, luring his opponent into a trap. Just as he expected, Guo Jing drew his palm back slightly—a clear sign he was weakening. Viper summoned more strength to his arms, only to find his hand slipping. His young foe had evaded the brunt of the attack.
Roaring in fury, Viper sent forth a burst of neigong power, launching his palm into Guo Jing’s chest as he made a silent promise. You will die today, boy!
And yet, before his fingertips could reach their target, Viper noticed that Guo Jing had lifted his left arm horizontally over his chest to guard it. The next thing he saw was the young man’s right index finger spearing toward the side of his head. At the Great Sun pressure point on his temple.
Yang in Ascendance!
Guo Jing had seen Reverend Sole Light employ this technique to heal Lotus, and, in this desperate moment, he sought to emulate it, using the Competing Hands method to launch two different moves at the same time, guarding against Viper’s attack while probing with his own.
It just so happened that Yang in Ascendance was the one skill that could counter the power of Viper’s deadly Exploding Toad kung fu. How could the Venom fail to be alarmed by Guo Jing’s imitation?
Leaping back, he yelled, “Even that old bore Duan Zhixing wishes to make trouble for me?”
In truth, Guo Jing’s jab only superficially resembled the King of the South’s signature move, for he had not been taught the skill and had no grasp of its subtleties. Moreover, it was not imbued with Cosmos neigong, so it could do no harm to the store of energy, accumulated over many years, that Viper used to launch the Exploding Toad.
From a safe distance, the Venom asked himself why Guo Jing had given up after a single attempt. Maybe the boy has not learned the whole repertoire? The thought reassured the martial Master, and he raised his palms. He held one hand above the other in front of his chest and let his energy pour forth for a brief moment before withdrawing it.
An attack with explosive speed.
Guo Jing threw himself to the side, his body reacting quicker than his brain to dodge the blow.
Crack! A low table behind the young man shattered.
In control once more, Viper Ouyang aimed a follow-up palm thrust. Just then, a gust of wind whipped into his back. Sneering at the attempted ambush, the Martial Great kicked out with his left foot without turning—making contact with the leg that was sweeping into him, striking it on the shin.
The assailant was sent flying, but, to the Venom’s great surprise, he failed to break the man’s bone. He snapped around. Three bearded vagrants stood in the ger’s entrance. The Beggar Clan Elders: Lu, Jian and Liang.
Surefoot Lu had recovered from the exchange with Viper Ouyang and was now clasping arms with Jian and Liang in a wall formation, the Beggar Clan’s technique for overcoming a stronger opponent by making use of their numbers. Guo Jing and Lotus had been given a taste of its potency at the Beggar Clan Assembly at Jun Hill, when dozens of human walls, formed by hundreds of Clan members, had almost driven them off a cliff.
Viper Ouyang had never fought these three men before, but, judging from the strength contained in the kick he had deflected, they were a force to be reckoned with. He reappraised the situation: he could easily handle Guo Jing in single combat, but if, these stinking beggars insisted on meddling, it would be more trouble than it was worth …
“Your kung fu has improved a lot, lad.” He let out his metallic laugh and sat down on the rug in the same cross-legged posture as before. “So, tell me about your terms.” He resumed the conversation as if no blows had been exchanged and the beggars were not present.
“You want Lotus to explain the Nine Yin Manual,” Guo Jing said. “Whether she’s willing to help you is up to her. You must not harm a single hair on her head.”
Viper chuckled. “Why would I, if she’s compliant? After all, who wants a quarrel with Old Heretic Huang? And the silver-tongued little thing makes an amusing companion. However, if she insists on being difficult, it is only fair to use a little … persuasion.”
“No!” Guo Jing shook his head.
“What do I get in return?”
“The next three times you fall into my hands, I will spare your life.”
Viper Ouyang rose, drawing himself up to his full height. A grating, high-pitched laugh erupted from his belly, ringing out across the steppe. Hundreds of horses whinnied uneasily.
Guo Jing merely fixed his eyes on the Venom and said in a quiet voice, “It’s not a joke. You know our paths will cross again.”
The Martial Great had not, in truth, found Guo Jing’s words amusing. He was wary of this boy, who knew the secrets of the Nine Yin Manual, and whose kung fu improved by leaps and bounds each time they met, because of this knowledge. This was a foe he could not afford to underestimate. And so, he laughed and calculated his options.
“Why would I, Viper Ouyang, need mercy from a runt like you?” The Venom paused. “But, so be it. We shall see.”
Guo Jing reached his hand out. “The word of a gentleman—”
“—is as true as a horseman’s whip.”
Sniggering, Viper slapped his hand against the open palm, before flipping it around, allowing Guo Jing to strike the back of it, and then with a quick flick of his wrist, their hands met for the third time as the pact was sealed with three ceremonial claps, in the Song custom.
The Venom was about to question Guo Jing further about Lotus, when he caught a fleeting form through the gap between the ger’s flies. Recognizing the figure’s swift footwork, he rushed outside, but there was not even a shadow in sight. He cast one final look at Guo Jing. “I will be back within ten days. Let’s see who spares whose life then.” And, in a flash, his cackle was jangling from more than a dozen zhang away.
Elders Lu, Jian and Liang stared in wonder, finding astonishment in each other’s eyes. They now understood why this man’s kung fu was ranked alongside that of their former chief, Count Seven Hong.
2
“Nonsense!” Surefoot Lu exclaimed after Guo Jing told them that Viper Ouyang thought Lotus was hiding in the army. “How would we not realize our Chief was here? After all—”
“Actually, I think it makes sense.” Guo Jing sat down and rested his chin in his hand. He was speaking slower than usual. “I’ve often felt Lotus was by my side. Every time I was out of my depth, I was given the cleverest advice, like she was with me. But, however much I miss her, I don’t get to see her.” Tears were threatening to fall.
Surefoot Lu consoled the young man. “Take heart. This separation is temporary. You will be reunited.”
“I’ve wronged her. She probably doesn’t want to see me ever again. I don’t know what I can do to make amends.”
The three Elders exchanged glances, but made no reply.
“I don’t mind if she won’t speak to me,” Guo Jing continued. “I just want to see her one more time.”
“We should let you rest,” Elder Jian said. “As for Viper Ouyang … We can discuss tomorrow how to deal with him when he returns.”
In the morning, the army resumed their march west, and, at sundown, they set up camp again. Surefoot Lu came into Guo Jing’s ger and laid a scroll on the table. “I came across this painting in the South, but I don’t know how to appreciate this kind of art. I thought it might find a better home with the General than with a humble beggar such as myself.”
Guo Jing unrolled the artwork and stared agape at the image. A young woman sat at a loom, weaving, her hair fastened with a floral hairpin. She had Lotus’s features, but she looked drawn and waxen
, her eyes vacant, her brow creased. His gaze lingered on her face for some time before turning to the two lyric poems inscribed alongside the image:
For the seventh time the loom is ready,
The silkworm spits the last thread of its life,
Let not silk sheer or twilled be cut wantonly.
Sundered for no reason,
The colored phoenix and its immortal mate,
Split apart on different sides of the robe.
For the ninth time the loom is ready,
Flying as one, leaves conjoined, branches entwined,
For the fickle, partings aplenty since times bygone.
From the beginning to the end,
Through one strand of silk,
Are the hearts linked and interwoven.
The verses were modeled after the one Madam Ying had embroidered on the handkerchief she once gave Zhou Botong, but the sentiment conveyed was more heart-wrenching and the allusions more subtle. Guo Jing could not fathom the depths of every word, but the meanings of the more straightforward lines were obvious enough. He was certain that the painting was Lotus’s work, but the key question remained: how had Elder Lu come by it? He looked up to ask him, but the beggar had withdrawn from the ger while he was reading. Guo Jing immediately sent for him and was told that it was purchased from a bookseller in the South.
Now even Guo Jing could tell that something was amiss. What use would a man like Surefoot Lu—a beggar, after all—have for such a painting? And why did the woman look so much like Lotus? The only plausible explanation was that Surefoot Lu was hiding something from him, but Guo Jing was reluctant to question him further. He decided to bide his time.
As these thoughts were running through Guo Jing’s mind, Elder Jian entered the ger and said in a low voice, “I just saw a shadowy figure flitting past the northeast corner of the camp. Viper Ouyang may be coming tonight.”
“Good. The four of us will wait for him here,” Guo Jing replied.
“Might I propose a plan of action?”
“Of course.”
“We dig a deep pit in the ground here, and have twenty men stand ready outside with bags of sand. If the Venom falls into our trap, we’ll make sure he can’t get out again.”
Guo Jing smiled. It was a brilliant idea. Given Viper Ouyang’s arrogance and disdain for others, he would not suspect such a simple, old-fashioned ruse. Guo Jing let the three Elders take charge and called in soldiers to start the digging. When the pit was ready, they covered it with a rug and placed a light wooden chair over it, while twenty soldiers lay in wait outside with sandbags. It was common for armies advancing through arid terrain to dig wells for water, so what they had done did not draw any attention.
Once everything was ready, Guo Jing settled down to wait by candlelight, but Viper Ouyang did not make an appearance. In the morning, the troops were on the move again, and, as evening fell, when Guo Jing’s ger was being set up, another team of men prepared a second trap. Again, there was no sign of Viper Ouyang.
The fourth night. Guo Jing sat in his tent, listening to the tolls of the diaodou, a cooking pan that doubled as the nightwatchman’s gong. His thoughts were surging and ebbing to its undulating tones when a rustling sound like a falling leaf broke the pattern, and Viper Ouyang’s unmistakeable cackle filled the air. Moments later, he strode in and sat down on the chair over the rug.
With a clatter and a crash, the Venom of the West hit the bottom of the pit, crushing his seat beneath him.
Even a martial Master of Viper’s stature could not overcome the shock of falling into a narrow shaft, seven or eight zhang deep, quickly enough to jump straight out. And, at Guo Jing’s signal, the soldiers rushed in and threw forty large sandbags into the pit.
Surefoot Lu chuckled merrily. “Just as Chief Huang—” He caught Elder Jian’s glare and swallowed the rest of his words.
“What did you say?” Guo Jing asked brusquely.
“Chief Hong. I meant Chief Hong. It would tickle Chief Hong to see the Venom like this.”
Guo Jing eyed Surefoot Lu suspiciously, but shouts of alarm outside the ger cut his interrogation short. He rushed out with the Beggar Clan Elders and found his guards staring with apprehension at something on the ground. He pushed through to see a mound of sand growing higher. He understood instantly—Viper Ouyang was using his kung fu to burrow out!—and ordered a troop of horsemen to ride over the pile of loose earth.
The Venom’s strength, however potent, was no match for the weight of dozens of cavalrymen on galloping horses. The first heap began to collapse in on itself as a new one bubbled up elsewhere. The horsemen hastened over to trample the rising ground. Several more dunes emerged, only to be flattened, then all was quiet for some time. Could it be that Viper Ouyang had suffocated?
It was close to midnight. Guo Jing ordered the riders to dismount and dig for the Venom’s body. A dozen soldiers surrounded the location of the last mound with torches, while the same number of men worked with shovels. When the pit was one zhang deep, they found Viper Ouyang, stiff and unmoving. It was staggering how far the Martial Great had managed to tunnel from the ger, with very little air and just his bare hands to work with—like a mole. It was a testament to his great inner strength, and, for soldiers who knew no kung fu, it was an almost unimaginable feat. In awe, they pulled him out of the ground and laid him down on his back.
Surefoot Lu placed his hand under Viper Ouyang’s nose. Nothing. He touched the martial Master’s chest. Still warm. The beggar shouted for iron chains. And, with the words still hanging in the air, the Venom drew a few quick but undetectable breaths, leaped to his feet, and seized Surefoot Lu’s right wrist with a howl of rage, locking his pulse to cut off his strength. Realizing that he could not break through beneath the pounding hooves, he had decided to feign death, since Guo Jing would be certain to dig him out. Once he was above ground, he reasoned, he would have a fighting chance of getting away.
The soldiers were horrified to see the stranger rise from the dead, but Guo Jing had kept his guard up all along. At the first sign of movement, he pressed his left palm against the Kiln Path acupoint on the martial Master’s back and thrust his right into the Spinal Center point on his waist.
Although unsettled, the Venom readied himself to swipe a backhand slash at Guo Jing. However, before he could even lift his arm, he felt a faint numbness spreading through his body. He cursed. The boy would not have got near his vital pressure points if he had not been half crushed by the weight of the sand and exhausted from trying to burrow his way out.
A cold fear gripped him. If he lets his strength flow, my inner organs will be turn into pulp. Even if I keep his hands away from my pressure points, I can’t be sure that I can subdue him in my weakened state.
With that thought, Viper Ouyang let go of Surefoot Lu and concentrated on standing upright and steady to mask the lethargy in his limbs.
Guo Jing was the first to speak, breaking the hushed silence surrounding them. “Master Ouyang, have you seen Miss Huang?”
“I caught a glimpse of her earlier. That’s why I’m here.”
“Are you sure?”
“Could you have come up with this scheme without the vixen’s help?”
Guo Jing wavered for a moment. “Go on your way. I said I would spare you.”
With a light shove, Guo Jing sent the martial Master more than one zhang away—a necessary precaution, given the Venom’s unscrupulous nature.
Viper Ouyang was content to keep his distance for now, simply fixing his young opponent with a baleful stare. “It is not my habit to use weapons against a junior in single combat,” he said in a frosty tone, “but, since the devious little witch is helping you, I am going to make an exception. I will be back within ten days with my Serpent Staff. You have witnessed the power of the poisonous snakes inside. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Guo Jing watched the Venom glide off into the darkness with the aid of his lightness qinggong. A northerly gust of wind swept across
the steppe and he shivered involuntarily, though whether at the chilly air or from memories of the Serpent Staff’s might as a weapon, he could not tell. He cast his mind over the armed fighting techniques he had learned from the Six Freaks of the South, but none could be considered a supreme kung fu and wielding weapons had never been his strong point. Still, facing the Serpent Staff barehanded was unthinkable.
He gazed into the night sky, at a loss what to do. Snowflakes began to drift down, gleaming in the moonlight. He headed back into his ger and was struck by the bitter cold inside. An attendant was stoking the coal fire; all throughout the camp, soldiers were busy bringing their horses into the tents for shelter.
This unexpected drop in temperature caught the Beggar Clan members out, for they had not brought furs or warm winter clothes with them and had nothing but their neigong power to keep them warm. Guo Jing gave orders for sheep to be slaughtered and skinned. There was no time to treat the pelts, so, once the blood had been cleaned off, they were distributed to the beggars.
3
It was biting cold the next morning. The snow had been packed into ice overnight. The Khwarazm army took advantage of the extreme weather to mount an assault, but Guo Jing was prepared, breaking their charge with the Soaring Dragon formation and hunting the survivors through the night.
Although the Mongolians were victorious, it did not lessen the harsh realities faced by soldiers as they battled in the icy and windy Western Regions, which have captured many a poet’s imagination over the centuries:
The general keeps his armor on all the time,
The soldiers’ dagger-axes clank in the night march,
The wind like a razor cuts and slashes the face.
The steed’s mane weighed by snow, their sweat turns to steam,
