A Snake Lies Waiting

by Jin Yong

  “I am your chief. Heed my commands.” Yang Kang was still struggling to see, but he could feel the effect of her words. “Push the traitor off the cliff. Then capture this liar.”

  The crowd roared and resumed their marching. The chief’s word was law and must be obeyed, but Lotus’s claim had begun to take root in their minds. Chief Hong’s love for beggar’s chicken was well known. Eating three whole birds a day might be excessive, but it would not be out of character.

  “Look!” Lotus cried. “I have the Dog-Beating Cane. That makes me the chief.”

  They halted. Indeed, no one had ever known any instance of the chief losing his cane in the Clan’s long history.

  “We, the Beggar Clan, have always had the run of the world,” Lotus continued. “And yet, today, we are being abused and insulted, right on our own patch. Two good brothers of ours, Vigor Li and Prosper Yu, were driven to an unjust death. Elder Lu has suffered grievous injury. Why?”

  Half the men turned to face Lotus, wanting to hear more. She had appealed to their sense of righteous loyalty toward their fellow clansmen.

  “Because of this man!” She pointed at Yang Kang. “He conspired with the Iron Palm Gang and concocted this barefaced lie about Chief Hong. Do you know who he really is?”

  A chorus of “Who?” “Tell us!” and “Don’t listen to her!” followed.

  “He is not a Yang. His family name is Wanyan. Yes, he’s the son of Wanyan Honglie, Prince of Zhao, of the Jin Empire. He’s here to bring ruin and destruction to our Empire.”

  She looked at the hundreds of incredulous faces; for them, it seemed, the truth was a claim too far. At that moment, she recalled the metal token—shaped like a hand—given to her by Zhu Cong, after he had picked Qiu Qianren’s pocket. It could come in useful. Luckily, the beggars had not searched her person and the token was still there. She raised it high, for all to see. “I took this object out of his hands just now. Look! What is it?”

  The beggars rushed forward for a better look.

  “The Iron Palm token!”

  “Of the Iron Palm Gang!”

  “Why does he have it?”

  “He is their spy. That is why he carries this emblem on his person. Why else would he agree to retreat south so readily, when the Beggar Clan have been helping the poor and righting wrongs in the north for centuries?”

  Yang Kang’s cheeks went pale. Then, he flicked his wrist.

  Two silvery lines cut through the night air, heading straight for Lotus’s heart.

  He was standing only a few feet away from her, at the base of the Terrace.

  “Watch out!” the beggars closest to her cried.

  Lotus ignored the warnings. The steel awls bounced off her chest—clink, clink!—and clattered to the ground.

  “Wanyan Kang, would an innocent man resort to such an underhand attack?”

  The beggars were awed. How was she not injured? Of course, they could not have known that, under her outer garment, she was wearing the Hedgehog Chainmail, which no weapon could penetrate.

  “Who’s telling the truth?”

  “Is Chief Hong still alive?”

  A babble of questions bubbled up. Confusion mixed with hope.

  Everyone turned to the Elders. Surely they would be able to determine the truth of the matter.

  Needless to say, the wall formation had long since been abandoned, allowing Guo Jing to stride unmolested through the crowd. No one paid him any attention.

  CHAPTER NINE

  AT THE SUMMIT OF IRON PALM MOUNTAIN

  1

  Surefoot Lu had, at last, recovered enough to speak. “We, as Elders, must question them further. We must ascertain whether Chief Hong is still alive.”

  “We have appointed our new chief—a decision not easily revoked,” Elder Peng shot back. “‘Never defy the chief’ is a rule our Clan has followed for generations.”

  Surefoot Lu refused to relent, even as the pain emanating from his fractured hands locked his jaw muscles, distorting his face into a mask of agony.

  The three Elders of the Washed exchanged looks of tacit agreement and moved over to stand with Yang Kang.

  “We believe in Chief Yang,” Elder Peng announced. “This she-demon helped our enemies to kill Chief Hong. She is using her guile to save herself. You must not fall for her deception. Brethren, take her and make her confess!”

  “Who dares lay a hand on her?” Guo Jing leaped up onto the Terrace.

  No one was reckless enough to challenge the young master fighter.

  Meanwhile, Qiu Qianren and his followers watched at a distance, delighted to see the beggars fighting among themselves.

  “Chief Hong is feasting on delicacies from the Emperor’s own kitchens in the Imperial Palace, in Lin’an, at this very moment,” Lotus said, loud and clear. “He wasn’t ready to tear himself away from the wonderful food, and so he asked me to take his place for the time being. When he is sated, he will return.”

  Count Seven Hong’s gourmandizing was well known, and most of the beggars found her explanation plausible. But asking a dainty teenage girl to lead the Beggar Clan? They were incredulous.

  “This Jurchen by the name of Wanyan plotted with the Iron Palm Gang to ambush me so he could steal the Dog-Beating Cane and use it to fool you. Could the Beggar Clan really be so gullible as to swallow the words of an arch pretender? Is it possible that our learned Elders have failed to see through the petty scheming of a rogue and miscreant?”

  Looks of doubt and suspicion were cast at the Elders.

  “If Chief Hong were still alive, why would he need you to lead on his behalf? Did he give you a token to prove your claim?” Yang Kang scrambled to hold his lies together.

  “This.” Lotus brandished the bamboo cane. “The Dog Beater.”

  Yang Kang let out a belly laugh. “Everyone saw you take it from me.”

  “If Chief Hong passed the Dog-Beating Cane to you, surely he would have taught you Dog-Beating kung fu. And, if he did, how was I able to take the Dog Beater from you so easily?”

  Yang Kang thought Lotus was belittling him and answered in his haughtiest tone: “How dare you call it that! Do not insult the Beggar Clan’s most potent scepter!”

  Surely their emblem did not have such a vulgar name? Yang Kang had expected to please the beggars with this admonishment, but all it did was reveal his ignorance—for the two beggars accompanying him would never have had the audacity to refer to the cane by name, in veneration of the authority it represented. He felt himself the target of mutinous glares amid a rising tide of fury, but he could not work out what he had said to earn them.

  “Scepter?” Lotus flashed a smile. “If you want it, take it.” She extended the cane, taunting him.

  Yang Kang took a step toward the Terrace, before pausing to glance at Guo Jing.

  “We’ll keep you safe, Chief,” Elder Peng said under his breath. “Let’s take back what’s yours.” He hopped onto the Terrace, followed by Yang Kang and Elders Jian and Liang.

  Surefoot Lu had also mounted the stage. He took his place near Lotus Huang, arms hanging limp by his sides. They don’t call me Surefoot for nothing, he reminded himself.

  Lotus was still holding out the cane, a picture of graciousness.

  Yang Kang hesitated, fearing a trap. Then he placed his palm over his chest, in a defensive stance, before reaching for his prize.

  She smiled and made a show of letting go. “Hold tight.”

  Seething, Yang Kang wrapped his fingers firmly around the cane’s midpoint.

  A hand darted forward. A foot flew up. Fingers in his eyes again.

  And the stick was back in Lotus’s grasp.

  The three Elders of the Washed—Jian, Peng, and Liang—were standing next to Yang Kang, yet they could only watch, stupefied and shamed. Lotus gave them no time to react.

  Lotus tossed the cane into the air. “It’s yours, if you can keep it.”

  Yang Kang had twice been at the receiving end of Lotus’s chicanery. A
s he dithered, Elder Jian flicked a wrist, unfurled his sleeve, and drew the cane to him.

  Cheers broke out.

  Only a supreme martial artist could manipulate soft fabric with such ease and precision, as if it were an extension of his arm.

  Jian raised the cane above his head and presented it to his chief. Yang Kang took it in his right hand and let his inner strength course to his fingers.

  You’ll have to cut my hand off if you want the cane again, he said to Lotus in his head.

  “Didn’t Chief Hong teach you how to hold on to the Dog Beater when he entrusted it to you?” Lotus asked.

  Chuckling, she tapped her feet and shot forward, straight at Yang Kang. She twirled to the side just before reaching Elders Jian and Liang, who had planted themselves protectively in front of their new chief.

  As she glided past, between the two beggars, Jian flipped his palm to seize her with a backhanded Grapple and Lock.

  But, the next thing he knew, she was standing toe-to-toe with Yang Kang. Elder Jian had never missed at such close proximity.

  Agile as a swallow on the wing, Lotus had put on an outstanding display of the footwork from Wayfaring Fist, which she had learned from Count Seven Hong.

  A swish of the cane brought the startled Elder Jian back to the moment.

  A whirl of green was sweeping at his shin. He and Elder Liang jumped.

  “I’m afraid the name of this move will cause offense,” Lotus said with a giggle. “It’s called Cane Strikes Two Dogs.”

  She was now standing at the eastern corner of the Terrace of the Yellow Emperor, her white dress fluttering in the breeze created by her nimble movement. In her hand, the glossy jade-green bamboo cane shimmered in the moonlight. She had snatched it so quickly that no one could say how she had done it.

  “Isn’t it obvious who Chief Hong’s chosen one is?” Guo Jing demanded.

  Thrice the beggars had witnessed Lotus whip the cane out of Yang Kang’s hand, each time faster than the last. Whispers resounded. Doubt had taken root.

  Surefoot Lu stepped forward. “Brethren, the techniques employed by the lady are indeed Chief Hong’s kung fu.”

  Elder Jian caught the eye of his fellow leaders of the Washed in an unspoken exchange. Like Peng and Liang, he had followed Count Seven Hong long enough to confirm the girl’s martial heritage. What could he say to counter Surefoot Lu’s claim?

  “Of course she is familiar with Chief Hong’s martial repertoire,” Jian said, after a moment. “She is his disciple.”

  “The Dog-Beating repertoire is known only to the Chief of the Beggar Clan,” Surefoot Lu fired back. “I am certain Elder Jian is aware of that.”

  “It is apparent that the young lady has learned some very clever Bare Hands Seize Blade maneuvers. Nevertheless, can we say for certain that it is Dog-Beating kung fu?”

  A kernel of doubt nagged at Surefoot Lu. “Miss, could you please demonstrate the Dog-Beating repertoire? If Chief Hong has indeed taught you the moves, our clansfolk shall, with one heart, declare you our chief.”

  “Elder Lu, I trust you have not forgotten that none of us has seen the kung fu in action—we know it only by name. How are we to confirm it?”

  “What would you suggest, Elder Jian?”

  Jian clapped for attention and addressed the crowd: “If the young lady defeats these hands with her cane, then I, of the family Jian, shall bend the knee and call her Chief. If my loyalty wavers, let ten thousand arrows pierce my body and a thousand sabers slice up my corpse.”

  Surefoot Lu snorted at the suggestion. “You’re one of the Clan’s most formidable masters. Your martial reputation has towered over the jianghu for more than twenty years. How old do you think she is? Her skill with the cane is exceptional, but is it fair to ask her to counter yours, honed through several decades of hard work?”

  “Then I will put her Dog-Beating kung fu to the test!” The hot-headed Elder Liang had heard enough of these petty arguments. He lunged at Lotus with his weapon of choice—the saber.

  The blade swung, the air whistled.

  She smiled and tucked the cane into her belt.

  Flashes of metal. Fast. Ferocious. Precise. A martial master.

  Lotus leaned a mere fraction to the side. The sharp edge glided past her—three times.

  She did not move her feet once.

  “You think you are worthy of the Dog-Beating Cane?” She beamed at the beggar, noting how he had avoided her vital points. With the smile still hovering on her lips, she struck at him with her left hand, while her right grabbed at one end of the curved sword.

  Rage flooded Elder Liang’s senses. He, a famed master, well known and revered in the wulin—how could he allow a mere child to defy him so?

  Hewing sideways and hacking down, he charged at Lotus with deadly intent.

  “Elder Liang! No lethal blows!” Jian had come around to the fact that there was something to Lotus’s claim and was feeling less animosity toward her. It was now crucial to rein in his fiery companion before he injured her.

  “I don’t mind.” Lotus giggled once more.

  Punch, kick, elbow, jab. Lotus flittered and fluttered around the older man, raining down moves from a dozen different martial repertoires upon him.

  The beggars were bedazzled by her rapid-fire display.

  “Lotus Palm!” a Disciple of Eight Pouches gasped.

  “Oh, Bronze Hammer Fist!” another beggar exclaimed.

  She launched the next before each move was named. The voices started to overlap.

  “Wayfaring Fist—”

  “Iron Broom Kick—”

  “Conquer with Ease!”

  Count Seven Hong had always dreaded the bother that came with taking on disciples and training them. So, over the years, he had only shared a crumb of his knowledge here, a morsel there, as reward for members who had performed commendable deeds on behalf of the Clan. Easily bored, he also disliked teaching the same kung fu again and again, so his favored clansmen each picked up a different skill.

  Lotus, however, was the exception. Delighted by her cooking, Count Seven Hong had shared with her several dozen different moves from different martial repertories during the month they spent together in the town by the Yangtze River. Though she learned fast, she was only training for fun. Often, after a handful of repetitions, she would want to move on to something new. Count Seven also found explaining intricacies a chore, so Lotus was able to emulate the moves, but had yet to grasp their nuances.

  Now, with the Clan’s eyes on her, she was consciously showing off the martial knowledge bestowed by Count Seven Hong.

  Liang’s command of the saber was, without a doubt, masterful. In normal circumstances, Lotus would be struggling, but her infinite array of strange moves had left her opponent’s head spinning. The beggar Elder decided to err on the side of caution, weaving a tight net of protective maneuvers across his torso.

  Lotus let her arms fall into a resting position over her chest and grinned. “Admit it.”

  Liang had yet to draw on the full scope of his knowledge. How could he concede the fight so soon? He dropped his defensive stance and turned the saber’s edge outward, its tip raised.

  Down he hacked, twisting the blade sideways.

  Lotus stood perfectly still. She made no move to tilt or lean away. She waited.

  “No!” Elder Jian and Surefoot Lu cried simultaneously above the shouts and gasps from the crowd.

  Liang drew his arm up as soon as he realized Lotus had no intention of evading the blow, but to pull back fully on a strike as potent as this, at such close range, was next to impossible.

  The blade sliced down on the young woman’s left shoulder.

  Liang knew that, even though he had withdrawn his neigong energy, the sharpened steel would slice through her flesh. He had been too rash—

  The lightest tap. Three inches from the wrist. His Gathering Convergence pressure point.

  Numbness.

  The saber clattered to the ground
.

  Orchid Touch.

  Placing her foot on the weapon, Lotus cocked her head and grinned. “How about now?”

  Elder Liang stared at her, stunned. How had she survived unscathed? The wise thing to do now was retreat. So back he hopped.

  “Remember, she is Apothecary Huang’s daughter.” Yang Kang tried to claw back support. “She wears Hedgehog Chainmail. No weapon can cut through it!”

  Elder Jian furrowed his brow at this new piece of information.

  “Hmm? What do you think?” Lotus said, beaming.

  Surefoot Lu shot a warning look at the young woman, hoping that she would be content with her triumph. He could tell that her inner strength was limited. Were it not for her dizzying martial repertoire, her wit and her armor, she would have come out of the fight as Liang’s equal, at best. Against Jian, the most accomplished among the Elders, she would not stand a chance.

  Of course, she ignored his signal and offered Jian a yet more dazzling smile.

  Lu was desperate to stop this unnecessary confrontation, but he had expended all his powers trying to withstand the agony radiating from his hands. He could not summon the energy to speak. He could only stand there, drenched in the cold sweat brought on by the whole ordeal.

  Slowly, Elder Jian looked up and fixed his eyes on Lotus. “Miss, I should like to exchange a few moves.”

  Guo Jing had been observing the older man. Composed and relaxed, he moved with a grounded poise that stemmed from a deep foundation in the art of neigong inner strength.

  I can’t let Lotus put herself in danger, Guo Jing thought, as he pulled from his robes the leather cord that had been used to restrain him, and strode forward.

  He flicked his wrist. The makeshift whip unfurled with frightening speed, lashing at the boulder Qiu Qianren had impaled with Jian’s steel staff.

  Leather curled around metal.

  “Up!” Guo Jing gave a sharp tug.

  The staff shot from the rock like a bolt of lightning and flew straight at Jian.

  The beggar Elder knew any attempt to catch it would result in shattered bones.