A Snake Lies Waiting

by Jin Yong

  Qiu Chuji took it and stroked his fingers along the blade’s edge. His heart was filled with sorrow. He sighed and said, “Nineteen years ago, I happened across your father and his friend, your uncle Skyfury Guo. The years have passed and now both have been returned to dust. It pains me to know that they are gone. That I was unable to save your parents will be my life’s great regret.”

  Guo Jing listened, his heart overflowing with grief. Reverend Qiu still remembers my father, and yet I never got to see his face. At least Brother Yang got to meet his real father.

  Qiu Chuji then returned the conversation to Guo Jing’s supposed death, and Yang Kang could only continue to weave his web of lies. The three Quanzhen elders sighed as he spoke.

  Yang Kang, meanwhile, was distracted by the thought that he had to catch up with Tolui and Khojin.

  Wang Chuyi studied the young man, then looked over at Mercy Mu. “Are you two married?” he asked.

  “Not yet,” Yang Kang replied.

  “You had better make the arrangements soon. Brother Qiu, how should it be handled?”

  Lotus and Guo Jing exchanged glances. Were they about to witness yet another wedding?

  Sister Mu is not as mild-mannered as Miss Cheng, Lotus thought. She might insist on a rematch, another Duel for the Maiden. This should be interesting.

  “Let Master decide,” she heard Yang Kang say, the delight clear in his voice.

  “On one condition,” Mercy Mu spoke up.

  Qiu Chuji smiled faintly and said, “Please.”

  “The traitor Wanyan Honglie killed my adoptive father and Yang Kang’s real father, Ironheart Yang. Before we can be married, Yang Kang must avenge his death.”

  “Excellent!” Qiu Chuji cried, and clapped his hands. “I couldn’t have said it better myself. A perfect plan, wouldn’t you agree, boy?”

  Yang Kang hesitated. How should he answer?

  Just then, a loud, gravelly voice came to their ears from outside. Someone was singing the lyrics to “Fallen Lotus Flower.” They heard a high-pitched voice rasp in response, “Master, lady, take mercy on a poor beggar!”

  Mercy listened. She thought the voice sounded familiar. She turned to see two beggars standing on the doorstep. One was fat, the other short and thin. Indeed, the second was so small, the first looked to be three times his size. There was something unusual in the way they held themselves. Indeed, they were so distinctive that Mercy instantly knew who they were. She had tended to their wounds at the age of thirteen. Count Seven Hong had spent three days teaching her a few tricks because she was of such tender heart.

  She was about to rush forward to greet them when she noticed that they were staring at the bamboo staff in Yang Kang’s hand. They looked at each other and nodded. They approached the young man, crossed their arms over their chests and bowed.

  Ma Yu and the others noticed how brawny the beggars were beneath their rags, and that each carried eight hemp sacks on their back. Senior members of the Beggar Clan. They were men of rank; why did they show Yang Kang such respect?

  The smaller one began, “We heard some among us say that the Clan chief’s cane had been spotted in Lin’an. It is our honor to see it here. I wonder, what became of our old chief, Count Seven Hong?”

  Yang Kang understood nothing. “Mmm,” he replied, trying to hide his ignorance.

  The men were taken aback, but remained respectful, such was the power bestowed by the Dog-Beating Cane upon whoever carried it.

  “It is not long now until we gather at Yuezhou. Elders Lu and Jian headed west not seven days ago,” the larger of the beggars said.

  Yang Kang was even more confused. “Mmm,” he said again.

  “We have been delayed for some days, looking for the cane,” the thin beggar continued. “We must hurry. If sir would care to start the journey today, we humbly offer our services to accompany you all the way.”

  Yang Kang saw his chance to get away from Qiu Chuji. He kowtowed before the Quanzhen Masters. “Humbly I beg the forgiveness of my elders, but I have an important matter to deal with.”

  Was Yang Kang connected to the Beggar Clan? They were the biggest secret society in the whole Empire, and their chief, Count Seven Hong, commanded a reputation equal to that of their late Master. This being the case, they could not possibly detain the young man and it would be impolite to ask the beggars any questions. As was the custom in the rivers and lakes, they merely paid the two men their respects.

  The beggars were equally humble in their conduct toward the Quanzhen Masters. And, when Mercy Mu reminded them of how she had helped them, all those years ago, she too was invited to travel with Yang Kang.

  Together, the four of them took their leave.

  Qiu Chuji had observed his disciple’s courteous treatment of Ironheart Yang’s adopted daughter and his anger toward him subsided. Had this young man not been the son of a true patriot, he might have crippled him, such had been his fury. But perhaps the Duel for a Maiden had turned out well, after all. Perhaps the young man had learned his lesson and had renounced the riches of a life in the Jin court in favor of his father’s good name. Was it possible that all those years of guidance on his part had not been in vain? He had to admit that the respectful way in which these two members of the Beggar Clan had spoken to him and his brothers did reflect well on the Quanzhen Sect. Indeed, his anger was giving way to something akin to pleasure. Gently, he twirled his long beard and watched as the young couple left.

  10

  That evening, they slept at the inn as they waited for the other masters of the Quanzhen Sect to join them. When there was no news for the whole of the next day, they began to feel anxious.

  Just as midnight was drawing near, they heard a whistle from the edge of the village.

  “Brother Hao is back!” Sun Bu’er said.

  Ma Yu replied with his own, low-pitched whistle. Before long, a shadow flitted across the doorway and Hao Datong appeared.

  This was the first time Lotus had ever laid eyes on Master Hao. She pressed her eye to the hole. It was the fifth day of the seventh month, and a new moon illuminated him. He was broad and tall, and carried himself with the air of a high-ranking official. The sleeves of his Taoist robes were cut short at the elbows. It was an unusual style, nothing like the clothing worn by the other Quanzhen Masters. In fact, Hao Datong had been the son of the wealthiest family in Shandong’s Ninghai prefecture. He was highly educated and had made money from divination before joining their Master, Wang Chongyang, in his cave in the mountains. Wang Chongyang had taken off his own robe, torn the sleeves short and presented it to Hao. “Worry not for its lack of sleeves,” he had said. “You will complete them yourself.” Making use of the similarity between the word for sleeve in Chinese and the word for teaching, his meaning was that, no matter how intensely the master gave his instructions, it was up to the disciple to achieve the Way. Hao Datong had worn short sleeves ever since, in order to honor his Master.

  “How is Master Zhou?” Qiu Chuji broke in impatiently. “Is he fighting, or is he clowning around?”

  “I am ashamed to admit that I didn’t manage to catch up with them,” Hao Datong said, shaking his head. “I gave chase for some seven or eight li before I lost sight of them. Masters Tan and Liu were ahead of me, however. I carried on searching for them for a whole day and a night, but, alas, I could not find them anywhere.”

  “Brother Hao is tired,” Ma Yu said. “Sit and rest.”

  Hao Datong positioned himself on the floor and crossed his legs. Then he began to circulate his qi.

  “On my way back, I encountered six people by the Temple of the King of Zhou, who seemed to fit the description, given by Master Qiu, of the Six Freaks of the South. I approached them and discovered that my instincts were correct. They are on their way back from Peach Blossom Island.”

  “The Freaks are most courageous,” Qiu Chuji said. “They went to Peach Blossom Island? No wonder we couldn’t find them.”

  “Their leader, Great Hero Ke
Zhen’e, said that they had offered to accompany their disciple Guo Jing to Peach Blossom Island to seek Apothecary Huang. But they could not find the young man so they went by themselves, only to find, to their surprise, that Huang was not there.”

  “They took a great risk! Indeed, they were very lucky the Heretic could not be found.”

  Guo Jing was relieved to hear his Masters were unharmed. By now, he and Lotus had been circulating their qi for five days and five nights, and he was almost completely recovered.

  During the second watch of the sixth night, another whistle was heard from the east of the village.

  “Brother Liu is back,” Qiu Chuji said.

  Moments later, Liu Chuxuan appeared outside, accompanied by an old man with long hair and a long beard. The old man was dressed in a short shirt made from arrowroot-cloth, and a simple pair of hemp shoes, and, in his hand, he carried a large cattail-leaf fan. He was smiling and talking as they entered. He glanced at the five Quanzhen Masters and nodded in their direction, as if greeting any ordinary man in the market.

  “This is Master Qiu,” Liu Chuxuan began, “also known as the Iron Palm Water Glider. We are most fortunate to come across him today.”

  Lotus had to hold back her laughter as she nudged Guo Jing with her elbow. Guo Jing grinned at her. They were both waiting to see what Qiu Qianren’s latest swindle was going to be.

  The Quanzhen Masters knew of Qiu Qianren, of course; he was well-known and respected throughout the wulin, so they addressed him with the customary courtesy. Qiu Qianren’s tone, in contrast, was gruff and self-important.

  “Has sir seen Master Zhou Botong?” Qiu Chuji asked, after a while.

  “The Hoary Urchin? Apothecary Huang killed him years ago.”

  Shock ran through the room.

  “How can that be?” Liu Chuxuan exclaimed. “I saw him only the day before yesterday. He was running so fast that I couldn’t catch up with him.”

  This stumped Qiu Qianren, and all he could do was smile. His mind was spinning, trying to find an explanation.

  “Brother Liu, did you get a good look at the two men who were chasing Master Zhou?” Qiu Chuji interrupted.

  “One was dressed in white, the other in a long, dark green robe. They ran at great speed. I managed to glimpse the face of the one in green, and it was most curious indeed. Like that of a corpse.”

  Qiu Qianren had met Apothecary Huang at Roaming Cloud Manor, where he had been wearing green robes and a mask made of human skin. In fact, he had not known at the time that it was Apothecary Huang, but it all made sense now. “That’s right! The one who killed the Urchin was dressed in long green robes. Apothecary Huang. Who else could have managed it? I was too late to stop it. Aiya, it was a most miserable death.”

  Qiu Qianren was known for his excellent kung fu skills, but the Quanzhen Masters were unaware of his other reputation as the most brazen swindler in all of the south. They were deeply aggrieved. Qiu Chuji slammed his hand against a table and decried Apothecary Huang in the most colorful terms.

  Lotus was seething. Not because Qiu Qianren had started this silly rumor, but because Qiu Chuji was so quick to curse her father—and with such terrible fury.

  “Brother Tan is faster than me; perhaps he caught up with them and saw how Master Zhou was killed?” Liu Chuxuan said.

  “Brother Tan is yet to return,” Sun Bu’er began. “I only fear that he too has suffered at the hands of that old villain…” Her voice trailed off, her expression grim.

  Qiu Chuji drew his sword. “We must have our revenge!” he cried.

  Afraid they might come across Master Zhou and his lie would be revealed, Qiu Qianren quickly added, “Apothecary Huang knows you are all here. He might arrive at any moment. The Old Heretic is evil, and I simply cannot allow his crimes to go unpunished a moment longer. Wait for me here.”

  As Qiu Qianren was their senior, they knew it would be inappropriate to defy the old Master’s words. Also, they might miss the scoundrel if they went out looking for him. It would be better to wait for him here and conserve their energy.

  Grateful, they bowed to Qiu Qianren and sent him on his way.

  “Don’t worry,” Qiu Qianren said, with a wave of his hand, as he left. “I will bring the Old Heretic to justice, you will see!” At that, he drew the sword from his waist and, with a grunt, thrust it at his own belly.

  The others cried out as the blade entered the old man’s flesh. Qiu Qianren merely smiled, however.

  “No blade can harm me. If the Old Heretic comes for you, don’t fight him, lest you all be injured. Wait for me to return, and I will deal with him.”

  “We must avenge our martial uncle,” Qiu Chuji replied, bristling.

  Qiu Qianren sighed. “Fate, too, has decided it must be thus. But, if it is revenge you want, there is one thing you must remember.”

  “Please, enlighten us, sir,” Ma Yu said.

  Qiu Qianren’s expression became very grave indeed. “If you see the Old Heretic, you must kill him at once. Do not bother trying to speak or reason with him, else you will lose your chance forever. This is very important!”

  At this, he turned, the sword still stuck in his belly.

  The others watched in amazement. In all their years, none of them had ever seen a blade enter the flesh in this way and yet cause no harm. The old man must have reached a level of martial skill none of them had witnessed before.

  What they did not know, however, was that it was just another of Qiu Qianren’s tricks. The sword was, in fact, made up of three sections. As soon as even the lightest of forces was applied to the tip of the blade, the first and second sections would retract into the third, which would, in turn, disappear into a seam in his waistband. To any onlooker, it appeared as though the blade had plunged into his abdomen.

  And the reason for his tricks? Wanyan Honglie had employed him to sow enmity among the heroes of the south, so that, when the Jin made their attack, they would be too busy fighting among themselves to unite against a common enemy.

  For the rest of that day, the Quanzhen Masters were restless. They could barely eat, and instead sat on the floor of the inn, practicing their breathing. Only Harmony Yin was able to sleep.

  At around midnight, they heard the faintest sound of whistling coming from the northern end of the village. They jumped up. Within moments, they heard people outside.

  “The enemy!” Ma Yu cried. “They have been chasing Brother Tan. Be careful, everyone.”

  Guo Jing was into his last night of breathing exercises; his internal and external injuries were almost healed. Not only that, but both he and Lotus had made great strides when it came to their neigong strength. These last hours were crucial. Lotus, however, was worried. If that is Papa outside, there will be a fight. But I am in no position to go out there and tell them the truth. What if my father injures the Quanzhen Masters? I am not so fond of them myself, but Guo Jing is devoted to Elder Ma, in particular. It will take a lot for him to resist helping them; he will feel it is his duty. And, if he does, all these days of training will be wasted. Indeed, if he cuts it short before completing all thirty-six revolutions, his life will be in danger.

  “Guo Jing,” she whispered, “promise me that, whatever happens, you won’t go out. Not until we’re done.”

  Guo Jing nodded, but it was plain to see he was deeply conflicted.

  “Brother Tan!” Qiu Chuji called outside. “Assume the Heavenly Northern Dipper!”

  Guo Jing’s heart leaped. The Northern Dipper. Those words appeared several times in the Nine Yin Manual. It was an essential component in reaching the highest levels of martial learning. The textual explanation, however, was obscure, to say the least. Guo Jing had not understood it himself. He peered through the hole to watch.

  Bang! The door flew open and the figure of a Taoist priest appeared in its place. His left foot just made it over the threshold before he was suddenly pulled back out again.

  Qiu Chuji and Wang Chuyi leaped forward, sleeves fl
uttering, palms raised.

  Thwack! Their palms struck the attacker. The two Quanzhen Masters jolted back, as did their opponent.

  Tan Chuduan stepped into the room.

  By the light of the moon, they took in his appearance. His hair was disheveled and two blotches of blood decorated his face. The long sword in his right hand had been snapped in half. He looked terrible.

  He walked into the center of the room and, without saying anything, sat down and crossed his legs. His martial brothers immediately took up their positions.

  11

  “Reverend tan.” a woman’s voice from outside suddenly broke through the darkness. “Had it not been for your Brother Ma’s presence, I would have delivered you to the heavens already. Why did you lead me here? Whose palms did I just encounter? Tell this old blind woman.”

  Despite the intense heat of the still summer’s night, her raspy voice sent chills down the Taoists’ backs. Silence descended, disturbed only by the constant hum of insects outside.

  Suddenly, an awful cracking sound was heard. Guo Jing recognized it at once: Cyclone Mei’s joints. She was about to attack.

  “Some spend years in isolation,” a soft voice began. It was Ma Yu. His tone was soothing.

  “Cultivating only unkempt hair and eccentricity,” another voice added. Guo Jing looked across at the Quanzhen’s Second Master, Tan Chuduan. The muscles on his face were taut and his eyebrows thick and bushy. His body was similarly robust and athletic. He had worked as a blacksmith in his native Shandong before joining the Taoist sect and assuming the name Eternal Truth.

  Their Third Master was, by contrast, thin and small. He reminded Guo Jing of a monkey. This was Eternal Life Liu Chuxuan. He took up the next lines: “Double Sun sits in the Crab Apple Pavilion.” He was slight in stature, but his voice was surprisingly resonant.

  “As the Spirit Immortal’s boat floats on lotus leaves,” Qiu Chuji continued.

  “To the empty shell belongs all matter,” Wang Chuyi added.

  “Some men see before they are born.” This was Infinite Peace Hao Datong.