by Jin Yong
Apothecary Huang nodded. “Come, Guo Jing. Would you like to use a weapon?”
“No,” the youth replied.
But Lotus wasn’t quite done yet. “There’s still one question to resolve. What if neither of you manages to subdue Guo Jing within three hundred moves?”
Count Seven gave a hearty laugh. “Old Heretic, for a moment, I envied you for having such a devoted daughter, committed to helping you win the ultimate honor. But she has just demonstrated an eternal truth—they always put their sweetheart first! She concocted the whole scheme to present that silly lad of hers with the title of Greatest Martial Master Under the Heavens!”
Apothecary Huang had always doted on Lotus and he did not mind granting his daughter her wish. “If we old men fail to overcome the boy in three hundred moves, what right do we have to be hailed as the Greatest?”
Nodding in agreement, Count Seven gave Guo Jing a shove. “Well? What are you waiting for?”
The young man stumbled, unsure how he should proceed. He had no desire to win any titles, but he was in a position to influence the outcome. Who deserves the honor more? he asked himself. Should he help either one of them to claim it?
The Heretic was also presented with a dilemma. I can hold back to help the boy last three hundred moves, but what if the Beggar takes his duel seriously? Then I’d be handing him the title! Hmm … Let me gauge Guo Jing’s ability first, then I can decide on a course of action.
“First move!” Apothecary Huang twirled his left palm and aimed an angled slash at Guo Jing’s shoulder.
Guo Jing raised his right arm to block the strike. The impact sent a shudder through him, almost knocking him off his feet.
He laughed inwardly at himself, shaking his head. How silly I was, thinking I’d need to hold back. I have no hope of withstanding a hundred moves, let alone three hundred, even with all my training!
His mind made up, Guo Jing now gave the duel his undivided attention. He would favor neither martial Master and concentrate instead on lasting as long as he could.
And yet, after the initial exchanges, it was Apothecary Huang who was feeling apprehensive. He had put two-thirds of his strength into his moves so far, but still found himself hemmed in by Guo Jing’s offensive patterns. When did this silly boy reach such an advanced level? he asked himself. If it continues like this, he might even beat me outright!
His pride stung, Apothecary Huang launched into one of his most prized martial inventions, Cascading Peach Blossom Palm, flitting in and around Guo Jing, his palms a waspish blur, as he fought to regain the upper hand. And yet, a dozen kung fu repertoires and more than a hundred moves later, he was still unable to bring the fight under his control. Fearful of being overwhelmed, he was forced to resort to a low trick to land a kick to his opponent’s left shin and buy himself a little time.
Shame on me! Apothecary Huang let out a breath of relief as the glancing blow sent Guo Jing scuttling back two steps. The Heretic piled on the pressure, launching a series of unrelenting attacks intended to overwhelm the young man, like blasting winds and crashing waves might swamp a boat at sea. But Guo Jing was unshakeable in his defense, maintaining the duel’s balance of power without once showing the slightest weakness or sign of fatigue.
“Two hundred and three, two hundred and four…”
Apothecary Huang was getting flustered. What if the Beggar crushes Guo Jing within a hundred moves? He altered his combat style yet again, unleashing a succession of swift palm strikes that fluttered hither and thither like butterflies’ shadows.
The phenomenal speed of this assault dazzled Guo Jing. It felt as though he was being crushed under the weight of a mountain. Starbursts filled his vision. His breathing was rapid and shallow.
Sensing that Guo Jing was at last succumbing, Apothecary Huang intensified his lightning barrage. Lotus was counting faster and faster too.
Guo Jing’s lips were dry, his tongue was on fire, his arms and legs achy and sore. He was hanging on through sheer force of will.
“Three hundred!”
The Heretic leaped back, his expression betraying a momentary loss of composure.
Guo Jing was reeling, seeing double. Now that the fight was over, he found his body whirling leftwards of its own accord. Turning through a dozen involuntary rotations, he could tell that just a few more would send him crashing to the ground. He stamped his left foot down with the full force of Thousand Jin Load kung fu, managing to stall the spinning for a split second. But the aftershock of Apothecary Huang’s neigong was still roiling in his system, and, moments later, he was overcome once more. This time, to keep himself steady, he bent from the waist and thrust down with his right hand. Pushing with all his strength, he employed a variation of Dragon in the Field to rachet himself the other way. After twenty rotations, his mind at last began to settle.
“Father,” he said, bowing before Apothecary Huang, “if you had made one more move, you’d have knocked me over.”
“I like how you address my papa,” Lotus remarked with a giggle.
Apothecary Huang was thoroughly impressed by the way Guo Jing had found his feet after being turned about by the Five Spins of the Mysterious Gates, a kung fu which had taken him nigh on twenty years to perfect.
“Old Beggar, the title is yours.” He cupped his hands in respect and turned to leave.
“Not so hasty. We don’t know for sure yet,” Count Seven said. “Will you lend Guo Jing your iron xiao flute?”
Apothecary Huang had snapped his jade flute in two when he thought Lotus had drowned at sea, and he now carried a plainer specimen, made of iron, in its place. He pulled it from his belt and handed it to the young man.
Count Seven nodded encouragingly. “Take it. I’ll fight with my bare hands.”
“Huh?” Guo Jing gaped at his shifu.
“I taught you your palm kung fu. You won’t get far using that. Steady! Here comes the first move!” Quick as a flash, Count Seven locked Guo Jing’s wrist with his left hand, then seized the iron flute. The young man let it slip out of his grasp, offering no resistance. He had no idea what he was supposed to do with the musical instrument.
“Stupid boy, this is a martial contest!” Count Seven slapped the xiao into Guo Jing’s open palm with his left hand, then immediately reached for it with his right. This time, Guo Jing evaded his groping hand with a neat twirl.
“One.” That was the signal for Lotus to begin the count.
Guo Jing had never been adept at armed combat, and the techniques he had been taught by the Six Freaks of the South were not particularly sophisticated. But, when he had found the sword in the deserted village in the Western Regions, he had developed their repertoires using insights gleaned from the Nine Yin Manual, coming up with methods for staving off the neigong power imbued in each swing of the Venom’s staff. Now he applied all he had learned to his handling of the iron xiao, and it was proving just as effective against Count Seven’s palm thrusts.
The Beggar was pleased to see his disciple crafting such a watertight defense. The lad has improved no end, he observed with pride. The hours I spent training him certainly weren’t wasted … But, if I beat him within two hundred moves, I’ll be showing the Old Heretic up. I know! I’ll wait until we reach the two-hundred mark before I get too heavy-handed.
He settled into Haughty Dragon Repents, the first of the Eighteen Dragon-Subduing Palms, and began to cycle through the whole repertoire in all its nine variations. Each thrust ripped noisily through the air, as Guo Jing was enveloped within the fleeting shadows of the Beggar’s two hands.
And yet, Count Seven Hong had made a strategic error. If he had been ruthless from the start, he could have routed Guo Jing, for the young man’s skills with a weapon lagged some way behind his palm kung fu. In choosing to begin his offensive in earnest after two hundred moves, he was both underestimating Guo Jing’s stamina and overestimating his own.
Aged twenty, Guo Jing was at his physical peak, and his already formidable inter
nal energy had been enriched at the source thanks to the Transforming Muscles, Forging Bones technique from the Nine Yin Manual. Count Seven was not only several decades older, he had also just recovered from a crippling internal injury that was compounded by a deadly snakebite. Even though his kung fu had been restored, it was a trauma that had shaken his very core—the deep well from which the Dragon-Subduing Palm drew its power.
By the time he had worked his way through the ninth round of the Dragon-Subduing Palm, Count Seven had unleashed one hundred and sixty-two palm strikes. Though they were still fierce and sharp, their impact was reduced, and their aftereffects did not linger so long in Guo Jing’s system. For him, the first two hundred moves were a period of adjustment, allowing him to settle on an effective response. Though the defensive sword strokes he was sketching with the iron flute were merely an adequate deterrent, the counterattacks he was launching with his left hand were growing in efficacy. Count Seven soon recognized the problem facing him. With his dwindling strength, he could not hope to win out through brute force alone. But he might stand a chance if he could outwit the boy … And so, the Beggar spread his arms wide, leaving his chest undefended.
Shifu has never shown me this! Startled by the unfamiliar technique, Guo Jing hesitated. He could easily thrust his weapon into Count Seven’s upper abdomen or chest, but how could he deal his teacher what would surely be a lethal blow?
“You’ve fallen for my trick!” Count Seven’s left foot flew up, kicking the iron xiao out of Guo Jing’s hand. Laughing in triumph, he flipped his right palm and sliced it down at an angle, striking the young man on his left shoulder.
Count Seven only channeled four-fifths of his strength into the blow, thinking it would be enough to knock Guo Jing off his feet and secure his victory, without actually injuring the boy. But Guo Jing had grown stouter and hardier over the past year, living in the saddle, at the mercy of gales and snowstorms. The pain was severe, but, though he staggered back from the impact, he did not fall.
Surprised to see Guo Jing still standing, the Beggar was quick to offer a word of advice. “Breathe in and out three times, slow and steady, so you won’t get an internal injury.”
Guo Jing did as he was told. Once the roiling sensation in his chest had eased, he bowed to his Master. “Shifu, you have won.”
“No, I haven’t. You could’ve struck me in the belly, but you chose not to. I doubt the Heretic will accept such a result. Carry on!”
Deprived of his weapon, Guo Jing now began to employ Luminous Hollow Fist to counter Count Seven’s palm thrusts.
When developing this kung fu on Peach Blossom Island, Zhou Botong had drawn on concepts from the Classic of the Way and Virtue. In this Taoist canon, it is said that, “Strong armies can be crushed, strong trees can be snapped. Tough strength has its downsides, supple weakness has its upsides.” The Classic also states that, “Nothing is more supple or weak than water, yet nothing surpasses its ability to attack the tough and strong, and nothing can be its substitute. The weak overcomes the strong, the supple conquers the firm. Everyone under the heavens knows it, though no one can put it into practice.”
Inspired by these notions, as well as the ancient saying, “The supple can overcome the firm,” Luminous Hollow Fist allowed one to cultivate a supple control of strength that offered a means to curb the power of the Dragon-Subduing Palm, a kung fu that was its opposite in every way—direct, forthright and unyielding. In theory, at least. In practice, it came down to martial ability; even Zhou Botong would struggle to subdue a master of Count Seven Hong’s stature.
But the Hoary Urchin had more than one trick up his sleeve, and he had also taught his sworn brother his second great innovation, Competing Hands. Using this unique technique, Guo Jing was able to launch moves from Luminous Hollow Fist with his right hand and moves from Dragon-Subduing Palm with his left.
As the duel wore on, Guo Jing began, without any conscious effort on his part, to meld the firm with the supple, so yin and yang were in support of each other. The results were phenomenal. None of Count Seven’s strikes could find a way though, and Guo Jing was quite capable of holding his own.
The excitement in Lotus’s voice was becoming more and more evident as they approached the three-hundredth move.
“Two hundred ninety-nine!”
Count Seven’s competitive instincts would not let him submit without one last throw of the dice. He let rip with a Haughty Dragon Repents, crying “Watch out!” as he channeled his inner strength to his arms. After all, the Beggar only wished to beat his student, not to hurt him.
Guo Jing felt a mighty force, with the power to topple mountains and overturn seas, sweep into him. He knew he could not counter this level of ferocity with Luminous Hollow Fist, so instead he traced a circle with his right arm. Whoosh! He too sent forth a Haughty Dragon Repents.
Their hands met with a pang! Their bodies shuddered.
Apothecary Huang and Lotus gasped and rushed over to check on them. Their palms seemed to have fused together.
Guo Jing was willing to concede, but he knew that, if he withdrew his strength too soon, he would end up absorbing the brunt of the attack. The only way to avoid injury was to hold Count Seven’s force at bay with his own neigong until the sting was drawn from it. When it was safe to disengage, he would gladly accept defeat.
Count Seven, meanwhile, had not imagined that his opponent would have the skill to counter his Haughty Dragon Repents head-on, for it was a move he had spent a lifetime perfecting. Delighted by this unexpected proof of his student’s talent, the Beggar decided that the day should belong to Guo Jing. It would be his pleasure to help the boy consolidate his reputation in the wulin. With that thought, Count Seven began to withdraw the flow of his inner strength.
3
Three chilling howls echoed between the crags. Guo Jing, Lotus and the two Martial Greats stared about in alarm. All at once, in a whirl of robes, a figure materialized before their eyes, suddenly in their midst. Instead of walking on his feet, he had covered the distance from his hiding place in three acrobatic flips.
Viper Ouyang, the Venom of the West, had returned. His clothes were torn and tattered. Streaks of blood ran down his face.
“I have mastered the secret method of the Nine Yin Manual. I am the Greatest Martial Master Under the Heavens!” he declared, swinging the Serpent Staff.
Count Seven Hong snatched up the Dog-Beating Cane and lunged to meet the sweeping blow that was arcing toward the four of them. The stalemate with Guo Jing had ended the instant they sensed Viper’s presence.
Just a handful of moves was enough to leave Count Seven shocked to the core by what he was witnessing from his opponent. Viper’s kung fu had always been peculiar, but his behavior now was both freakish and erratic. One moment he dragged his fingers down his own cheek, the next he kicked his own buttocks with his heel. Each swipe of his staff juddered midcourse before continuing along an entirely unexpected new path. It was impossible to anticipate where each blow would land. The Beggar weaved a tight net of defense with the Dog Beater, too perturbed to risk any kind of countermove.
Pak, pak, pak! Viper cuffed himself on the ear three times and let out a howl. He then took two round stones from the inside pocket of his robe, put them on the ground and placed his hands over them. He flipped into a handstand, then began scuttling around on all fours.
Count Seven was mystified. Why are you crawling around like a dog? Have you forgotten that my cane kung fu was devised for beating curs like you? Chuckling inwardly, he speared his weapon into the Venom’s flank.
Viper flipped and rolled, trapping the Dog Beater under him. He kept on turning, claiming more of the cane and forcing Count Seven to loosen his grip. Then he sprang up and kicked both feet out in quick succession. Count Seven had no choice but to let go and back away.
Apothecary Huang, Guo Jing and Lotus were stunned. Lotus had retrieved the iron xiao flute when it was torn from Guo Jing’s grasp, and now she handed it to her f
ather. Thus armed, Apothecary Huang lunged, placing himself between the Venom and Count Seven.
Viper pounced, his clawed fingers groping for the flute. “King Duan, I do not fear your Yang in Ascendance!” he shouted.
He’s not right in the head, the Heretic thought as he eyed this wild reaction. The Venom had always been savage in combat, but there was now a feral edge to his aggression that Huang had not detected in their previous encounters, and he had no idea what could have brought about such a transformation.
In fact, not even the Venom himself understood the source of his odd behavior. He had not realized the Nine Yin Manual he had studied so assiduously was made up. Its nonsensical content had already set his head spinning long before Lotus put in motion her plot to lead him astray through deliberate misguidance. From the start, he had accepted every word as the undisputed truth, and blundered blindly from one false promise to the next in his desperation to master the techniques in the shortest possible time. And, if that was not bad enough, he had been whacked on the head while in this deluded state by Count Seven Hong.
Though he had been on an erroneous path from the very beginning, Viper’s firm martial foundation had allowed him to somehow forge a way through, and now his attacks were so erratic and unpredictable that the two other Martial Greats present could only look on, mouths agape.
In just a few dozen moves, Viper had Apothecary Huang on the run, and it was Guo Jing’s turn to enter fray. But one look at the young man was enough to reduce the Venom to tears.
“My boy! You died such a terrible death!”
He cast the Serpent Staff aside and threw his arms wide to envelop Guo Jing, filling the air with his heart-rending wails. The addled martial Master had clearly confused him with his late nephew, Gallant Ouyang.
Guo Jing launched a palm thrust to keep the distraught man at bay, but Viper simply turned the blow aside with his left wrist, locked his fingers over the attacking arm and pulled Guo Jing into an embrace. The young man struggled with all his might, but Viper’s grasp was too strong—he could barely move.
