Flying Fox of the Snowy Mountain Chapter 1 – Part 1

With a sharp whistling hiss, a feathered arrow flew from behind the eastern ridge. It hummed and whined as it cleaved the empty sky, piercing the neck of a wild goose in flight. The great bird tumbled through the air with the arrow still lodged in its neck, beating out a few wild somersaults before crashing into the snow.

Several hundred feet to the west, four horsemen were riding hard across the white expanse. At the whistle of the arrow, all four reined in as one. Their mounts were tall, well-fatted steeds, and at the check of the reins they halted at once. The riders’ horsemanship was superb and their horses long trained. That sudden stop showed saddle and beast both to be first-rate. Seeing the goose fall with the arrow in it, all four silently admired the shot and craned to see what manner of man had fired it.

They waited a good while, but no one emerged from the ridge. Instead they heard the clatter of hooves: the archer was riding away. One of the four, a lean, tall old man with a fierce cast to his features, frowned slightly and spurred his horse towards the ridge. The other three followed. Rounding the shoulder of the hill, they saw some five riders already a good li¹ away, galloping flat out. Iron hooves flung snow, silver manes streamed in the wind. Pursuit was out of the question. The old man waved his hand and said, “Yin shixiong,² this is a queer business.”

The man addressed as “Yin shixiong” was also elderly, stout of build, with a pair of moustachios curling at his lips. He wore a sable-lined coat and carried himself like a wealthy merchant. He nodded at the lean old man’s words, then wheeled his horse back towards the fallen goose. His riding whip cracked against the snow with a sharp pa, and the lash tip curled the goose up into the air. He caught the arrow shaft in his left hand and examined it. “Ah!” he cried.

The other three spurred closer at the shout. The “Yin shixiong” tossed the goose and arrow together towards the lean old man. “Ruan shixiong, look at this!” The lean old man caught it in his left hand, took one look at the feathered arrow, and bellowed, “They’re here! After them!” He wheeled his mount and took the lead.

The remaining two were both men in their prime. One was tall and broad-shouldered, mounted on a great horse that made him look still more imposing. The other was of middling height, his face pale but his nose reddened raw by the cold. The four of them whistled in unison. Four horses breathed mist into the freezing air, then thundered away at full gallop. On that white slope there was nothing but snow as far as the eye could see, and not another traveller anywhere. The trail could not have been easier to follow.

It was the forty-fifth year of the Qianlong³ reign, the fifteenth day of the third lunar month. Far to the south, Jiangnan⁴ would long since have been bright with flowers. Here beneath Changbai Mountain,⁵ in this bitter cold beyond the pass, the snow was only just beginning to thaw, with not the least hint of spring. The red sun had barely cleared the eastern peaks, and its pale yellow light fell on the riders with no warmth to it at all.

Cold as the mountains were, the four horsemen pushed their mounts so hard that soon every one of them was sweating.

The tallest of the party stripped off his outer robe and draped it across his saddle-bow. Beneath he wore a fur robe faced with dark silk, a long jian⁶ at his waist. His brow was deeply furrowed, his face set in fury, his eyes so fierce they seemed ready to spit fire. He drove his horse into a frenzy of speed.

This was Cao Yunqi, the newly appointed zhangmen⁷ of the Tianlong School⁸ Northern Branch, known throughout the jianghu⁹ as “Soaring Dragon Jian.”¹⁰ The Tianlong School’s twin arts of palm and swordplay were both peerless, and he had mastered much of what they had to teach. The pale-faced horseman was his shidi, Zhou Yunyang, nicknamed “Returning Dragon Jian.”¹¹ The tall, lean old man was their shishu,¹² Ruan Shizhong, called “Seven-Star Hand,” reckoned the first fighter in the Northern Branch. And the merchant-like old man was Yin Ji, zhangmen of the Tianlong Southern Branch, whose epithet was “He Whose Might Shakes the South.”¹³ This matter touched both the Northern and Southern Branches of the Tianlong School in equal measure, which was why he had travelled a thousand li from the south to these borders.

The four riders were mounted on fine steeds of the Manchurian grasslands, and their pace was swift. After seven or eight li of hard galloping, the five riders ahead were no longer far distant. Cao Yunqi shouted, “Hey, friends, halt!” The five ahead took no notice whatsoever and only spurred their horses faster. Cao Yunqi’s voice went sharp: “If you don’t stop, don’t blame us for discourtesy!”

He heard the click of a tongue against teeth, then a sharp snort as one rider reined and wheeled. The other four kept going. Cao Yunqi was well in the lead. He saw the man draw his bow, nock an arrow, and point the tip straight at his chest. Cao Yunqi trusted his skill enough to care nothing for bow and arrow. He raised his whip and bellowed, “Hey! Is that House Brother Tao?”

The man was handsome of feature, his eyebrows slanting sharply upwards, some three- or four-and-twenty years of age, dressed in close-fitting riding garb. At Cao Yunqi’s hail he threw back his head and laughed. “Watch the arrow!” he called. Three feathered shafts leapt from his bow in quick succession, high, middle and low, in a continuous volley.

Cao Yunqi had not expected the three arrows to come so fast. For an instant he was startled. Then his whip lashed out and beat aside the upper and middle arrows. He jerked his reins hard and his horse leapt upward. The third arrow scraped beneath its belly and passed between its legs, missing by no more than a few inches. The young man laughed aloud, wheeled his horse, and galloped away.

Cao Yunqi’s face was the colour of iron. He spurred forward to give chase. Ruan Shizhong called out, “Yunqi! Keep your head! He can’t fly into the sky.” He dismounted, plucked the three arrows from the snow, and found them identical to the one that had struck the goose. Yin Ji’s face went dark. “So it is the brat,” he growled. Cao Yunqi said, “Wait until shimei¹⁴ gets here. Let’s see what she has to say for herself.”

They waited the time it takes to eat a meal, but no hoofbeats came from the direction they had come. Cao Yunqi grew restless. “I’m going to have a look.” He galloped back the way they had come. Ruan Shizhong watched his retreating figure and sighed. “It’s hard to blame the lad.” Yin Ji asked, “Ruan shixiong, what do you mean?” Ruan Shizhong shook his head and said nothing.

Cao Yunqi had ridden several li when he spotted a grey horse standing alone in the snow. A young woman in white was kneeling on one knee, bending over as though searching for something among the drifts. “Shimei!” he called. “What’s the matter?”

She did not answer. Then she straightened, holding something golden that glittered in the sunlight. Cao Yunqi rode closer and took it from her. It was a small pen cast in gold, some three inches long, its nib sharp and finely wrought. The shaft bore a tiny engraved character: “An.” The golden pen looked as much a plaything as a hidden weapon.¹⁵ He frowned. “Where did this come from?” The young woman said, “After you left, I followed after you. When I reached this spot, someone on horseback came up behind me. That horse was fast. It swept past me in moments. The rider threw this pen at me, and it — it —” Her face flushed crimson. She faltered and could not finish.

Cao Yunqi gazed at her. Beneath skin like congealed cream a faint rose colour was spreading. Her lashes drooped, and a woman’s shy embarrassment made her more lovely than words could say. He felt something stir in his chest. Then a cloud of suspicion swept over it. “Do you know who we’re chasing?” he asked. “Who?” “You don’t know?” He spoke coldly. “How would I know?” She looked up at him. “Your sweetheart,” said Cao Yunqi. The words tumbled from her before she could stop them: “Tao Zian?” Her face went scarlet. Cao Yunqi’s brow darkened as though a black cloud had passed over it. “The moment I say ‘sweetheart,’ you say Tao Zian!”

Tears swam in her clear bright eyes, rolling back and forth. She stamped her foot. “He — he —” “He — he what?” “He is my betrothed. Of course he is my sweetheart.” Cao Yunqi was furious. Shua! He drew his jian. The young woman stepped forward instead. “Kill me if you dare.” Cao Yunqi ground his teeth, looking down at her upturned face, and all the tenderness he felt rose in his throat. “Enough! Enough!” He spun his jian back and thrust it hard at his own chest.

The young woman’s hand flew to her own hilt. Her arm snapped out and blocked his blade. Clang! The two jians collided, sending a shower of sparks. Cao Yunqi said bitterly: “If you don’t care for me at all, why let me go on suffering in this world?” She sheathed her jian slowly and said in a low voice, “You knew all along it was my father who betrothed me to him. Do you imagine I chose it myself?” Cao Yunqi’s brows lifted. “I would roam the ends of the earth with you. On some desolate island, I would stay by your side forever. Why won’t you?” She sighed. “Shixiong, I know your heart is true to me. I am no fool. How could I not be moved? But you lead our Tianlong Northern Branch. If you did such a thing, the school’s reputation would be ruined. What face would we have in the wulin?”¹⁶

Cao Yunqi cried, “I would shatter my own body for you and count it a blessing. If heaven itself fell, I would not care. Zhangmen or no zhangmen, I don’t care.” She smiled faintly and took his hand. “Shixiong, it is your rash, headlong temper I cannot love. You never think of the consequences.”

Cao Yunqi could not rage against that. He sighed. “Then why do you treat what he gave you like a treasure?” “Who says he gave it to me? When have I ever set eyes on him?” “Would anyone really throw a thing so costly as a hidden weapon? Is his name not carved on the shaft? If not from him, then from whom?” She glared at him. “If you are so fond of wild suspicions, then don’t speak to me at all.” She sprang to the grey horse, leapt into the saddle, and pulled the reins taut. The horse bounded away.

Cao Yunqi mounted at once and kicked his mount hard. In moments he was alongside her. He leaned from the saddle and seized the grey horse’s bridle. “Shimei, listen to me!” She raised her riding whip and lashed his hand. “Let go! What will people think?” He did not release his grip. Pa! A line of blood welled on the back of his hand. She relented. “Why do you keep provoking me?” “It was my fault. Strike me again.” She smiled. “My arm is tired. I can’t hit any more.” Cao Yunqi laughed. “Let me rub it for you.” He reached for her arm. She lashed the whip at his head. He ducked, and this time it missed. “Your arm isn’t tired any more, then?” She set her face. “I told you not to touch me.”

Cao Yunqi made his peace with a grin. “Very well. Then tell me, where did that golden pen come from?” She laughed. “From my sweetheart. If he didn’t give it, who did? Perhaps you gave it to me?” Cao Yunqi felt a pang of bitterness, hot blood rising in his chest. He was about to flare up again, but she was smiling, her lips slightly parted, showing teeth like jade, and his anger sank back down. She gave him a look and sighed softly. “Shixiong, you have cared for me since I was small. You have been better to me than a brother. I am not without a heart. How could I not wish to repay you? Besides, we — Only, I am truly at a loss. You have always been tender with me and protective. Now my father has died a terrible death, and our Tianlong School faces a crisis of survival. How can you be so unfeeling?” Cao Yunqi stood dumb for a long while. At last he waved his left hand. “You are always right. I am always wrong. Let’s go.”

She smiled. “Wait!” She drew out a handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his brow. “In all this snow, if you don’t wipe off the sweat, you will catch cold.” Cao Yunqi felt a sweetness beyond words. All his anger dissolved. He flicked his whip lightly against the grey horse’s rump. The two of them rode side by side.

The young woman’s name was Tian Qingwen.¹⁷ Young as she was, she had already made a name for herself in the wulin beyond the pass. She was beautiful and quick-witted, and the Liaodong¹⁸ martial artists had given her a nickname: “Brocade-Furred Marten.”¹⁹ The marten races across the snow like flight, and is clever and nimble, and “brocade-furred” spoke to her beauty. She was the daughter of Tian Guinong²⁰ by his first wife. Tian Guinong had been dead only a short while, and she was still in deep mourning, clad head to foot in white.

The two of them galloped hard and caught up with Yin Ji, Ruan Shizhong, and Zhou Yunyang. Ruan Shizhong cast Cao Yunqi a sideways look. “Gone so long. What did you find?” Cao Yunqi flushed. “Nothing.” He kicked his horse and galloped ahead.

They rode several li further. The mountainside steepened and the snow grew deep. The horses’ hooves slipped and slid, and the five riders dared not urge them on, but rode at a walk with loose reins. Rounding two shoulders of hill, the path grew more treacherous still. Suddenly a horse whinnied from the left. Cao Yunqi’s right foot pressed the stirrup and he launched himself sideways, landing behind a great pine. He concealed himself and peered ahead. On the slope nearby, five horses were tethered to the trees. A line of footprints led straight up the mountain. Cao Yunqi called out, “Shishus, the little thief has fled up the mountain! After him!”

Yin Ji was cautious by nature. “If they are deliberately luring us in, there may be an ambush.” Cao Yunqi said, “Dragon’s pool or tiger’s den, today I will break in!” Yin Ji disliked his recklessness and turned to Ruan Shizhong. “Senior Shixiong Ruan, what do you say?” Before Ruan Shizhong could answer, Tian Qingwen spoke up: “With Shishu Yin, ‘He Whose Might Shakes the South,’ here among us, even a deadly ambush is nothing to fear.” Yin Ji smiled faintly. “They left in haste. It does not look like an ambush to me. Very well.” He pointed to the right. “We circle up this way and take them by surprise.” Cao Yunqi cried, “Excellent! A splendid plan!”

Yin Ji and the rest dismounted and tied their horses beneath the pines. They tucked the hems of their long robes into their waist-belts and put their qinggong²¹ to use, scaling the mountainside to the right. The ground was thick with trees and jagged rock, hard to cross, but the cover meant they were unlikely to be spotted. At first they moved in single file, one behind the other. As time passed, the difference in their skill became clear. Yin Ji and Ruan Shizhong led, side by side. Cao Yunqi trailed a good ten feet behind. Tian Qingwen and Zhou Yunyang were several dozen feet further back. Cao Yunqi thought to himself: “Shishu Yin is zhangmen of the Southern Branch and styled He Whose Might Shakes the South. I wonder whose gongfu is truly higher, his Southern Branch’s or our Northern Branch’s? Today I shall find out.” He gathered his neili²² and put steel into his stride, shooting past Yin Ji and Ruan Shizhong in an instant.

Yin Ji’s voice came after him: “House Brother Cao, fine footwork indeed! Heroes truly come from the young.” Cao Yunqi dared not look back for fear of being overtaken. “Please, Shishu Yin, instruct me!” But even as he spoke, his feet never stopped. He ran for a stretch, then listened for their footfalls and glanced back. His heart sank: Yin Ji and Ruan Shizhong were right behind him. He poured on speed and sprinted ahead several dozen feet.

Yin Ji smiled faintly and followed at an unhurried pace. Higher up, the snow lay thicker and the path was rougher, and every step was harder work. After the time it takes to burn half a stick of incense, Cao Yunqi began to slow. He felt a faint warmth at the back of his skull, as though someone were breathing on him. He was about to turn when a hand tapped his right shoulder. Yin Ji’s voice laughed, “Young man, put some effort into it!” Cao Yunqi started. He gathered his qi and surged forward. The burst put a hundred feet or so between him and the other two, but it left him breathless and sweating. He wiped his brow with his sleeve, and the memory of Tian Qingwen wiping his sweat brought an unwitting smile to his lips. Then the crunch of snow behind him told him Yin Ji and Ruan Shizhong had caught up again.

Yin Ji saw Cao Yunqi’s burst and fade and knew the young man’s qinggong was far beneath his own. Only Seven-Star Hand Ruan Shizhong ran silently at his side, matching him pace for pace, fast when he was fast and slow when he slowed, seemingly with room to spare and not yet at full strength. You two are testing the old man today, Yin Ji thought. He drew a deep breath and unleashed the qinggong that decades of hard training had forged. Across the snowy slope he seemed not to touch the ground at all.

The Tianlong School had been founded early in the Qing dynasty as a single line. In the Kangxi era the zhangmen’s two senior disciples fell out, and when the zhangmen died, the school split into Southern and Northern Branches. The Southern Branch prized speed and ferocity, the Northern steadiness and ruthlessness. The two branches’ martial arts sprang from the same root and shared the same forms, but in use each had its own strengths. Uphill qinggong had always been the Southern Branch’s forte, and stout though Yin Ji was, once he brought his school’s inner method to bear he was nimbler than an ape. In moments he was over a li ahead of Cao Yunqi. Yet Ruan Shizhong kept abreast of him still, neither falling behind nor pulling ahead. Several times Yin Ji quickened his pace to shake him off, but each time he gained only a few dozen feet before Ruan Shizhong caught up, steady as ever.

The summit was only two or three li away. Yin Ji laughed. “Ruan shixiong, let us race for the top! First one there wins!” Ruan Shizhong said, “How could I match you, Yin shixiong?” “No modesty now!” The words were barely out of his mouth before he shot upward like a loosed arrow. In moments the peak was only a few dozen feet above. Glancing back, he saw Ruan Shizhong some ten feet behind him. He gathered himself for a final surge, but Ruan Shizhong suddenly leapt, landing beside him, and whispered, “Someone over there.” He pointed towards the trees on the left. A chill ran through Yin Ji: this man’s gongfu truly surpasses mine. Ruan Shizhong bent low and stole towards the trees. Yin Ji followed.

They reached the far side and crouched behind a jutting boulder. Peering down, they saw the flash of steel in the valley below. Five men were gathered at the valley floor. Three stood guard at the mouths of three passes, weapons drawn, as though keeping intruders at bay. The other two, one with a steel hoe, the other with an iron spade, were digging hard beneath a great tree. They seemed to know their enemies were close on their heels, for their arms never rested, rising and falling in relentless alternation.

Yin Ji whispered, “It is the Tao father and son of Yinma Creek.²³ Who are the other three?” Ruan Shizhong murmured, “The three stockade chiefs of Yinma Creek. All hard men.” Yin Ji said, “Fitting, then. Five against five.”

Ruan Shizhong said, “Yin shixiong, you, Yunqi and I have nothing to fear. But Yunyang and Qingwen are weaker. If we catch them off guard and kill one or two quickly, the rest will be easy.” Yin Ji frowned. “If it gets about the jianghu that the Tianlong School stoops to ambush, won’t the heroes of the world laugh at us?” Ruan Shizhong said coldly: “To avenge Tian shixiong, we must pull up the roots and leave not a single one. If we say nothing, no one will ever know.” Yin Ji asked, “Are the Tao father and son truly so hard to beat?”

Ruan Shizhong nodded. After a pause: “In a fair fight, I cannot promise victory.” Yin Ji knew that since the death of zhangmen Tian Guinong, Ruan Shizhong had been the first fighter of the Northern Branch. It was said that even Tian Guinong in his lifetime had been somewhat wary of him. And in the race up the mountain, the old man had seemed to be holding back, making it a draw. At full strength, Yin Ji suspected he himself would lose. He nodded. “I am a guest here. Ruan shixiong should direct affairs.”

Ruan Shizhong thought, So you want to be the hero and leave the villain’s work to me. He said nothing. By now Cao Yunqi had arrived, and presently Zhou Yunyang and Tian Qingwen came up behind. Ruan Shizhong said quietly: “Yin shixiong, you, Yunqi and I will each loose a Cone at the three lookouts. Then we surround the Tao father and son. Yunyang and Qingwen, wait until we strike, then move in.” The four heard and fell to creeping forward on quiet feet, bending low behind the rocks.

Tian Qingwen followed close behind Ruan Shizhong and whispered, “Shishu Ruan!” Ruan Shizhong halted. “What?” “The Tao father and son must be taken alive.” Ruan Shizhong rolled his eyes, showing the whites, and said in a low, harsh voice, “You would still protect that little thief, Tao Zian?” Tian Qingwen said, “I cannot believe it was him.” Ruan Shizhong’s face went the colour of iron. He drew the feathered arrow from his belt and thrust it into her hand. “Compare it yourself! This is the arrow the little thief fired at the goose.”

Tian Qingwen took the arrow and needed only one look before her hands began to tremble. Cao Yunqi was beside her, and he had been watching her more than the enemy. Seeing her face, he felt both joy and anger: joy that Tao Zian’s life was forfeit, anger that her feeling for the young thief ran so deep. His temper was fierce, and the more he thought, the hotter he burned. He was about to hurl a cutting remark when Ruan Shizhong’s hand fell on his shoulder and pointed to the back of the man standing guard at the eastern approach.

By now Tian Qingwen and Zhou Yunyang were prone and motionless. Ruan Shizhong, Yin Ji, and Cao Yunqi each chose a target. In every hand, three Poison Dragon Awls²⁴ lay concealed. They crept closer. The Chasing-Fate Poison Dragon Awl was a technique handed down through generations of the Tianlong School: swift, accurate, and fierce in its venom. Three shichen²⁵ after the strike, the victim was dead. In the jianghu it had earned a name: “Chasing-Fate Poison Dragon Awl.”

Footnotes

1. 里 – lǐ. A traditional Chinese measure of distance, approximately 500 metres or one-third of a mile. ↩

2. 师兄 – shīxiōng. Male senior fellow disciple. Both apprenticed to the same shifu. Shī means teacher. Xiōng means older brother. ↩

3. 乾隆 – Qiánlóng. Reign title (1735–1796) of the fourth Qing emperor, under whose rule the Qing empire reached its territorial and cultural zenith. ↩

4. 江南 – Jiāngnán. Literally “south of the river”; the fertile, temperate region south of the Yangtze, cultural heartland of late imperial China. ↩

5. 长白山 – Chángbái Shān. The Changbai (White-Headed) Mountains, a volcanic range on the border between Manchuria and Korea. ↩

6. 剑 – jiàn. A straight, double-edged sword. ↩

7. 掌门 – zhǎngmén. The head of a martial arts school. ↩

8. 天龙门 – Tiānlóng Mén. The Tianlong School, divided into Northern and Southern Branches. Both share a common lineage but diverge in martial philosophy: the North favours steady, ruthless technique; the South prizes speed and ferocity. ↩

9. 江湖 – jiānghú. Literally “rivers and lakes.” The itinerant world beyond settled society and official reach, home to martial artists and the trades that travel with them. ↩

10. 曹云奇 – Cáo Yúnqí. Nicknamed “Soaring Dragon Jian” (腾龙剑 – Ténglóng Jiàn). Newly appointed zhangmen of the Tianlong Northern Branch. ↩

11. 周云阳 – Zhōu Yúnyáng. Nicknamed “Returning Dragon Jian” (回龙剑 – Huílóng Jiàn). Junior fellow disciple of Cao Yunqi. ↩

12. 师叔 – shīshū. Junior lineage uncle. The shidi or shimei of one’s shifu. Shī means teacher. Shū means father’s younger brother. ↩

13. 殷吉 – Yīn Jí. Zhangmen of the Tianlong Southern Branch. His epithet, “He Whose Might Shakes the South” (威震天南 – Wēizhèn Tiānnán), speaks to his renown. ↩

14. 师妹 – shīmèi. Female junior fellow disciple. Both apprenticed to the same shifu. Shī means teacher. Mèi means younger sister. ↩

15. 暗器 – ànqì. Hidden weapons — darts, knives, needles — loosed without warning. ↩

16. 武林 – wǔlín. The martial forest. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

17. 田青文 – Tián Qīngwén. Daughter of the late Tian Guinong by his first wife. ↩

18. 辽东 – Liáodōng. The region east of the Liao River in southern Manchuria. ↩

19. 锦毛貂 – Jǐnmáodāo. “Brocade-Furred Marten.” The marten is a small predator famed for its speed across snow and its keen wit; “brocade-furred” honours her beauty. ↩

20. 田归农 – Tián Guīnóng. Former zhangmen of the Tianlong Northern Branch. Father of Tian Qingwen. Recently deceased. ↩

21. 轻功 – qīnggōng. Lightness skill. The martial art of moving with extraordinary speed and agility, including scaling walls and crossing distances in seemingly impossible time. ↩

22. 内力 – nèilì. Internal force. The kinetic manifestation of qi, cultivated through long practice and deployed to enhance every physical act. ↩

23. 饮马川 – Yìnmǎ Chuān. Literally “Horse-Watering Creek.” A stronghold in the Liaodong region. ↩

24. 追命毒龙锥 – Zhuīmìng Dúlóng Zhuī. “Chasing-Fate Poison Dragon Awl.” A Tianlong School hidden weapon: small cone-shaped darts coated in lethal venom. Death follows within three shichen. ↩

25. 时辰 – shíchén. A traditional Chinese unit of time, equal to two modern hours. The day was divided into twelve shichen. ↩