Flying Fox of the Snowy Mountain Chapter 10 – Part 3

Miao Renfeng saw that Hu Fei's appearance was rough and bold, his bristling beard spread wide, and he bore a passing resemblance to how Hu Yidao had looked in those years. His heart stirred, but then he remembered that Hu Yidao's son had long been harmed by another, thrown into a river at Cangzhou. That this man's features bore a likeness was mere coincidence. Thinking of how he had insulted his only beloved daughter, rage surged through him. His left palm rose, and his right fist shot out with a rush of wind, driving straight toward Hu Fei's chest with fierce intent.

Hu Fei stood but a few feet from him. Seeing the fist come with such tremendous force, he had no choice but to raise his palm to block. Their fist and palm collided, and both their bodies shuddered violently.

Since his duel with Hu Yidao all those years ago, Miao Renfeng had met no equal for over twenty years. Now his single fist had been neutralised by Hu Fei, and he felt the man’s palm techniques were exquisite, his neili deep and profound. His fighting spirit flared all the more. His palms moved like wind, pressing forward with three successive moves.

Hu Fei parried each in turn. On the third, Miao Renfeng’s palm force was overwhelming. Though Hu Fei twisted away in haste, his body swayed several times, and he nearly tumbled from the peak. He thought, If I give ground any more, he’ll force me to my death. He saw Miao Renfeng’s left foot fly up, kicking swiftly toward his lower abdomen. At once both his right fist and left palm struck together toward his opponent’s face, a move that attacked where the other must defend, an excellent counter to the low kick.

Though Hu Fei used considerable force, he had not committed his full strength. In a contest between masters, not the slightest concession can be afforded, yet Miao Renfeng raised his arm to block with ten tenths of his power. Their four arms collided with two crisp cracks, and Hu Fei felt a dull ache spread through his chest. He hastened to circulate his qi to resist. But Miao Renfeng’s fist techniques were ferocious and unstoppable. Once he gained the upper hand, his fist intent grew ever fiercer, allowing his foe no moment to draw breath. On level ground, Hu Fei might have leapt clear, retreated a few paces beyond the reach of those palm winds, then turned to fight again. But here on the sheer cliffs and crags, there was no ground to yield. He could only set his teeth and unleash the Spring Silkworm Palm,¹ weaving a dense defence around every vital point on his body.

This Spring Silkworm Palm was all defence, every move. His strikes were marvellously short, hand and foot never extending half a foot beyond his frame, yet the techniques wove so densely that not the slightest opening appeared anywhere about his person. This palm method was designed for when one was besieged and desperately outmatched, seeking not victory but merely to avoid defeat. Though the defence held tight, it carried one grave drawback: from the very start, one stood on ground where victory was impossible. True to its name, the Spring Silkworm Palm had the sense of a silkworm spinning its own cocoon, containing not a single counterattack. No matter how great a flaw the opponent’s techniques revealed, unless one changed palm methods entirely, one could never overcome the foe and claim victory.

Miao Renfeng pressed ever closer, seeing his opponent’s position grow dire. No matter how fiercely he attacked, Hu Fei always found some way to deflect, yet since the fellow defended without striking, Miao Renfeng himself ran no risk. He abandoned defence entirely and devoted all his strength to breaking through.

When the fight reached its height, Miao Renfeng drove his fist out with full force. Hu Fei dodged, and the fist struck the mountainside. Ice and rock splintered, and a small shard struck him in the left eye. The eyelid is soft, and the blow came so unexpectedly it was impossible to guard against. Hu Fei felt a searing pain in his eye. Though he dared not raise his hand to rub it, his fists and feet faltered for just a moment. Miao Renfeng seized the opening, pressing close to the mountainside and forcing Hu Fei outward.

Now the balance of strength had been decided. Half of Hu Fei’s body hung over emptiness. Had his feet so much as slipped, had he lost his balance for an instant, he would have plunged into the valley below. Miao Renfeng, by contrast, had his back to the mountain wall, each move forcing his opponent to meet force with force. Hu Fei was sharp-witted and would have none of it. His strikes grew supple and slippery, doing his utmost to dissolve the incoming force, never meeting it head-on.

Their martial arts had been evenly matched to begin with. Fighting on equal terms, Hu Fei might not have won. Now, with so many disadvantages piled upon him, how could he last? They exchanged several more moves when Miao Renfeng suddenly leapt into the air and kicked out three times in succession. Hu Fei twisted to evade. The third kick had barely passed when his opponent drove both palms straight at his chest. These two palms could not be deflected, and where he stood there was nowhere to dodge. He had no choice but to strike out with both palms as well and meet the attack head-on. Their four fists collided. Miao Renfeng roared, his strength pouring straight through his palms. Hu Fei’s body swayed, and he hastened to gather his strength for a counter. Both men channelled the full cultivation of their lives into their hands. This was a contest of pure force, where no trickery could avail. Both held their breath, their qi settled in their dantian,² four eyes locked, and they stood frozen, neither moving.

Miao Renfeng saw how formidable the other’s martial arts were and could not help but feel alarmed within: I have travelled the jianghu³ little in recent years, and had no idea such a fearsome figure had emerged from the wulin.⁴ His legs bent slightly, his back touched the mountain wall, and with a draw-and-thrust motion he first drew Hu Fei’s palm force past, then borrowing the mountain’s support, he shoved outward with all his might, roaring, “Down!”

This shove was already overpowering in its force, and borrowing the mountain’s advantage made it all the harder to resist. Hu Fei’s body swayed, and his left foot was already over empty air. But these past years he had trained day and night, and the stability of his root was truly no ordinary matter. His right foot held firm at the cliff’s edge as though cast in iron. Miao Renfeng surged with strength three times more, yet could only make the other’s upper body sway. He could not move that right foot half an inch.

Miao Renfeng felt a secret awe: Such skill may truly be called rare in this age. What a pity he has strayed onto the wrong path. He is still young. If I do not kill him today, when next we meet I may not be his equal. If he relies on his strength to do evil, who in this world could restrain him? At this thought, his left foot shot out in a sudden Broken Stele Kick,⁵ driving hard toward Hu Fei’s right knee.

Hu Fei stood on one leg alone. Seeing the kick come, with no way to evade, he sighed, “It’s over. Today I die at his hand after all.” But in peril, life stirs in death’s shadow. His right foot kicked down and his body suddenly soared upward over ten feet, turning in mid-air like a falcon, striking downward.

Miao Renfeng said, “Good!” His shoulder shifted and he rammed outward. Hu Fei’s twin fists struck his shoulder, but Miao Renfeng’s tremendous force drove him back, and he tumbled from the cliff, falling into the void.

Hu Fei smiled bleakly. A single thought flashed through his mind like lightning: I have been alone since childhood. If at the moment of death I have won Sister Lan’s heart, then this life has not been lived in vain. Suddenly his arm was seized, his fall checked at once. Miao Renfeng had caught him and hauled him back up, crying, “You once saved my life. Now I spare yours in return. One life for one life, and neither owes the other. Come, we fight again.” He stepped aside and stood level with Hu Fei, no longer claiming the advantage of the wall.

Hu Fei, escaped from death’s jaws, had no heart left for battle. He cupped his fists and said, “I am no match for Miao daxia.⁶ Why fight further? Whatever Miao daxia wishes to do with me, I submit to your command.”

Miao Renfeng frowned. “When you first engaged, you held back deliberately. Do you think I did not notice? You take Miao Renfeng for an old man, strength spent, not your match?”

Hu Fei said, “I would not dare.”

Miao Renfeng roared, “Strike!”

Hu Fei wished to explain that sharing a bed with Miao Ruolan had been entirely unforeseen, with no thought of insult. He began, “In that side chamber…”

Miao Renfeng heard the words side chamber and his rage blazed anew. A palm struck out at his face. Hu Fei had no choice but to receive it. After what had just passed, he knew that any concession at all would see him trapped once more beneath those palm winds. He could only commit his full strength. The two displayed the utmost arts of their lives, fist and foot exchanged on the cliff’s edge, contending in wit and in strength, in fist technique and in neili, over three hundred moves exchanged, yet neither could claim victory.

The longer Miao Renfeng fought, the greater his doubt. He could not stop thinking of that duel with Hu Yidao in Cangzhou all those years ago. Suddenly he leapt back two paces and called, “Halt! Do you know Hu Yidao?”

Hu Fei heard him speak his late father’s name. Grief and anger mingled within him. He set his teeth and said, “Hu daxia was a hero of the older generation, cruelly done to death by treacherous men. I have long held Hu daxia in the highest reverence. If I had the fortune to receive a few words of his teaching, I would die content that very instant.”

Miao Renfeng thought, Of course. Hu Yidao has been dead twenty-seven years. This man before me is but in his twenties. How could he have known him? These words were well spoken. Were it not for his insult to Laner, on the strength of these words alone, I would count him a friend. He reached to the mountainside and broke off two sturdy branches, weighing each in his hand. Finding them of similar heft, he tossed one to Hu Fei, saying, “Our fists and palms cannot decide this. On weapons, we settle life and death.” He raised his branch, his left hand forming the sword mudra,⁷ the branch thrust out along an oblique line, employing the peerless, unparalleled art of the wulin, the Miao Family Swordplay.⁸ Though it was but a slender branch, when it thrust out the wind of its force was fierce and the aim true. Had the pointed tip struck, it would have been no different from a jian’s bite.

Hu Fei saw the attack’s ferocity and dared not show the slightest carelessness. His branch swayed lightly, rising to block across. The parry was hard yet contained softness within, the manner of a true master. Miao Renfeng was taken aback, thinking, How are his martial arts so like Hu Yidao’s? But in a contest between masters, once dao and jian have met, the follow-up moves flow on without end, allowing not the slightest pause for thought or hesitation. He saw Hu Fei parry with his branch and follow at once with a rising slash. Miao Renfeng swung his branch jian to cut back, forcing him to withdraw to defend.

This fierce exchange was unlike any Hu Fei had ever faced. His martial arts had been learned entirely from his father’s written legacy. Though the techniques were exquisite, his experience in actual combat was lacking, and the depth of his neili, limited by his years, had not yet reached the highest realm. His advantage lay in youth and vigour, his physical strength far exceeding the other’s, and so through dozens of moves they fought to a standstill. Both encountered perilous moments, yet each time escaped through skilful technique at the very brink. Hu Fei struggled to parry and counter, thinking with admiration, Golden-Faced Buddha Miao daxia truly lives up to his name. Were he twenty years younger, I would have been defeated long ago. No wonder he and my father fought to a draw. He is a hero indeed.

Both knew that to win by technique alone would be no easy matter, but whichever of them could press his back against the mountain wall and claim that vantage would win the contest. Each strove to force the other outward, fighting for the ground near the cliff face. But their moves locked so tightly that had either stepped half a pace inward, he would at once have taken a wound from the other’s branch.

When the fight reached its height, Miao Renfeng employed a Yellow Dragon Turns and Spits Tendrils stance,⁹ thrusting swiftly at his opponent’s chest. He saw there was no escape, and Hu Fei’s branch dao had cut outward, too far to return in defence.

Hu Fei started in alarm and hastened to extend his left hand, deflecting sideways across the other’s branch. His right hand struck out in a Subduing Tiger Stance.¹⁰ Miao Renfeng called, “Good!” His branch jian trembled, and Hu Fei felt a sharp pain in the fingers of his left hand. He was forced to let go.

Miao Renfeng stepped forward half a pace, about to thrust out an Advancing Step Plucks the Stars move,¹¹ when the solid cliff they had been standing on, trodden upon so long by the two fighters, began to crack and melt away. His sword-intent drove forward, his full weight resting on his left foot behind him. He heard a cracking sound, and a rock bearing ice and snow broke away and fell into the abyss below.

Miao Renfeng’s foot found nothing beneath it, and his body fell of its own momentum. Hu Fei cried out in alarm and reached to grab him. But Miao Renfeng’s fall was swift, and though Hu Fei caught his sleeve, the sudden drag pulled him over the cliff’s edge as well.

Both men turned in the air as if of one mind, pressing themselves against the mountain wall, employing the Wall-climbing Gecko Technique¹² to climb back up the cliff. But the wall was covered in ice and snow, smooth beyond measure, and the Gecko Technique could gain no hold. Had a true gecko been here, it could not have climbed either. Though they could not ascend, their fall slowed.

Footnotes

1. 春蚕掌法 – chūncán zhǎngfǎ. A defensive palm technique with extremely short-range movements, used when surrounded and outnumbered. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

2. 丹田 – dāntián. The energy centre below the navel. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

3. 江湖 – jiānghú. The itinerant world beyond settled society. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

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

5. 破碑脚 – pò bēi jiǎo. A powerful kicking technique. ↩

6. 大侠 – dàxiá. A title of respect for a renowned martial artist. ↩

7. 剑诀 – jiàn jué. The hand gesture and stance of swordplay. ↩

8. 苗家剑法 – Miáo Jiā Jiànfǎ. The signature sword technique of the Miao family. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

9. 黄龙转身吐须势 – huánglóng zhuǎnshēn tǔ xū shì. A thrusting technique from the Miao Family Swordplay. ↩

10. 伏虎式 – fú hǔ shì. A chopping technique from the Hu Family Bladeworks. ↩

11. 上步摘星式 – shàng bù zhāi xīng shì. A thrusting technique from the Miao Family Swordplay. ↩

12. 壁虎游墙功 – bìhǔ yóu qiáng gōng. A qinggong skill for scaling walls and cliffs. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩