The Legend of the Condor Heroes Chapter 1 – Part 3

They walked on for a while. Yang Tiexin said in a low voice, “That storyteller we heard today said half the realm of our Great Song was handed away by that Daojun Emperor.¹ So his paintings and his calligraphy, what’s so precious about them? Why risk life and limb, brother, going all the way into the imperial palace to steal them?”

Qu San smiled. “That’s something you wouldn’t understand.”

Guo Xiaotian said, “Since that Daojun Emperor painted so well and wrote so beautifully, he must have been very clever indeed. It’s just a pity he didn’t concentrate on being emperor. When I was small, my father told me: whether a man studies letters or martial arts, he can only devote himself to one thing. If he grabs at the east and gropes at the west, in the end he’ll accomplish nothing.”

Qu San said, “That’s true for a man of ordinary talent. But the world has its share of men sharp beyond measure, men whose literary brilliance and martial prowess, whose music, chess, calligraphy and painting, whose mathematics and strategy, whose medicine, divination and astrology, whose qimen² and wuxing,³ are all mastered without exception, every one perfected! It’s just that you two have never met such men.” As he spoke, he raised his head and gazed at the waning moon at the sky’s edge, then drew a long, slow sigh.

In the moonlight, Guo and Yang saw that a few tears had suddenly welled at the corners of his eyes.

---

Guo Xiaotian and Yang Tiexin returned home and buried the two gold vessels deep in the back yard. They breathed not a word of the matter, not even to their wives. From then on the two lived as before, making their living by farming and hunting. In their spare time they practised with weapons and fists, and even when the two of them were alone they never once spoke of that night.

Sometimes they still went to the little wineshop for a few pots. The lame Qu San⁴ still warmed their wine, still brought out broad beans and peanuts to go with it, then limped away and sat by the door, gazing at the great river in silence, lost in his own thoughts. That night’s fight in the woodland seemed never to have happened at all. Guo and Yang still paid their bill as always, only now the glances they cast his way carried a measure of respect and awe. His little daughter, five or six years old, still chased chickens and dogs, babbling nonsense with her father. Qu San, without a wife, found it no easy task to look after such a little daughter.

Autumn ended and winter came. Each day grew colder than the last. One evening the north wind blew for half the night, then snow began to fall. The next day it fell heavier still, silver floss filling the sky, jade dust covering the ground, everything white in every direction.

Yang Tiexin told his wife, née Bao, to prepare wine and food that evening and invite his sworn brother and his wife over to drink and admire the snow. After the midday meal he took up two large gourds and headed to the wineshop at the village head to buy wine, but when he arrived he found the pair of board doors shut tight and the wine-banner taken in.

Yang Tiexin knocked several times and called, “Brother Qu San, I’ll take three jin⁵ of wine.” But no answer came. He went to the window and peered in. A thick layer of dust covered the table. He thought, I haven’t been to the village head for a few days. Qu San must be away. I hope nothing’s happened to him. Then he saw Qu San’s little daughter sitting on the ground, singing a children’s song and playing with mud by herself. Yang Tiexin figured the girl was simple-minded and talked nonsense at the best of times, so there was no point asking her anything. He braved the wind and snow to Red Plum Village,⁶ five li⁷ away, bought his wine, and picked up a chicken while he was about it.

When he got home he killed the chicken and asked his wife to prepare it.

His wife, née Bao, whose given name was Xiruo, was the daughter of the schoolteacher at Red Plum Village’s private school. She had been married to Yang Tiexin for only a year. That evening Bao Xiruo put a chicken together with cabbage, tofu and vermicelli into a great earthenware pot and set it to simmer on the charcoal fire. She also cut a plate of cured fish and cured meat.

At dusk she went next door to invite Guo Xiaotian and his wife for drinks.

Guo Xiaotian came over gladly. His wife Li, however, was with child and these past few days had been bringing up sour bile and throwing up whatever she ate, so she begged off, though she was sturdy and healthy and there was nothing else wrong. Li’s given name was a single character, Ping. She and Bao Xiruo were as close as sisters. The two of them chatted for a good while in the bedroom. Bao Xiruo brewed her a pot of hot tea, then went back to tend the meal, only to find her husband and Guo Xiaotian had already moved the charcoal stove onto the table, warmed the wine, and started eating and drinking.

Guo Xiaotian said, “Sister-in-law, we’ve started without you. Come, sit down.”

Guo and Yang were close friends, and both were men of valour. Country folk don’t stand on ceremony about men and women keeping apart. Bao Xiruo smiled and agreed. She added some charcoal to the stove, poured herself a cup of wine, and took the seat below her husband’s. Guo Xiaotian, seeing the food was good and the three of them eating merrily, went home and dragged his wife over as well.

Guo and Yang had not been talking long before they were slapping the table and cursing. Li Ping laughed and asked, “What is it this time that has you two brothers so worked up?”

Yang Tiexin said, “We’re talking about the outrageous goings-on at the Lin’an court.”

Guo Xiaotian said, “Yesterday I was at the Xiyu Pavilion teahouse by Zhong’an Bridge, and I heard a man talking about that villain of a chancellor, Han Tuozhou.⁸ The way he told it, with such detail, it must be true. He said no matter which official submits a memorial, if the document doesn’t write out ‘and respectfully present such-and-such gifts,’ that villain of a chancellor won’t so much as look at it. Truly outrageous!”

Yang Tiexin sighed. “With such an emperor, such a chancellor. With such a chancellor, such officials. Big Brother Huang outside Yongjin Gate⁹ in Lin’an told me: one day he was cutting firewood by the hillside when a great troop of soldiers came escorting a whole parade of officials, Chancellor Han leading all his officials on an outing to the countryside. He kept to his firewood and paid them no mind. Then suddenly he heard Han Tuozhou sigh: ‘Bamboo fences and thatched cottages, truly superb rustic scenery. It’s just a pity there’s not the sound of chickens and dogs!’ He had barely finished speaking when, woof woof woof, something started barking in the grass.”

Bao Xiruo laughed. “That dog was quick to play along!”

Yang Tiexin said, “Yes, very quick indeed. The dog barked for a while, then a rooster crowed from the grass, and then a man crawled out from the bushes. And what dog do you suppose it was? What rooster? Why, it was the honourable Prefect Zhao of our Lin’an Prefecture himself.”

Bao Xiruo laughed till she bent double, crying, “Oh dear!”

Guo Xiaotian said, “With Prefect Zhao playing dog and crowing like a rooster, he’ll be promoted any day now.”

Yang Tiexin said, “Naturally.”

---

They drank on for a while. The snow outside the door fell heavier still. The hot wine warmed their bellies, and all four of them felt toasty. Li Ping, being with child, did not dare drink much. She just took tiny sips to join in the fun.

Suddenly from the eastern main road came the sound of footsteps crunching snow, rising and falling very fast. All four turned to look and saw a Daoist priest.

The Daoist wore a bamboo hat and a straw cloak, his whole body caked in white snow. A long jian¹⁰ slanted across his back, the yellow silk tassel on the hilt streaming straight in the wind. He walked alone through the swirling snow with great strides, his bearing extraordinary.

Guo Xiaotian said, “That Daoist knows real martial arts. Looks like a brave man too. Pity we’ve no excuse to approach him.”

Yang Tiexin said, “Right, let’s invite him in for a few cups. Make a friend of him.”

Both were hospitable by nature. They rose at once and went to the door, but the Daoist was moving so fast that in the blink of an eye he was already a hundred-odd feet away, and he was not even running. Such qinggong¹¹ was truly rare.

The two exchanged glances, both startled. Yang Tiexin raised his voice and called, “Daoist Elder,¹² please wait!”

Before the echo had died, the Daoist whirled back and nodded.

Yang Tiexin said, “In this freezing snow, Daoist Elder, why not come over for a few cups and warm yourself?”

The Daoist gave a cold laugh and strode over as if flying, and in moments was at the door. His face was full of contempt and disdain. He said icily, “You told me to stop. What are you after? Out with it!”

Yang Tiexin thought, We’re inviting you in good faith, and you’re this rude? He turned his head away and ignored him.

Guo Xiaotian clasped his fist and said, “My brother and I were warming ourselves by the fire with a drink. Seeing Daoist Elder walking alone in the cold, we took the liberty of inviting you. Forgive the impertinence.”

The Daoist rolled his eyes and said loudly, “Fine, fine, fine. Wine it is!” He strode in.

Yang Tiexin was even more annoyed. He reached out and grabbed the Daoist’s left wrist, pulling outward, and growled, “We haven’t yet asked Daoist Elder’s Daoist name.”

Suddenly he felt the Daoist’s hand turn slippery as a swimming fish and slide right out of his palm. Yang Tiexin knew something was wrong and tried to pull back, but in an instant his wrist was gripped tight. The Daoist had reversed the hold. It felt as though an iron ring had clamped around it, painful and burning hot. He hastily summoned his strength to resist, but his entire right arm went numb and useless. His wrist burned with a bone-deep agony.

Guo Xiaotian saw his sworn brother’s face flush crimson and knew he had gotten the worse of it. Their intention had been to make friends, and a rash fight would only offend a brave man of the jianghu.¹³ He hurried over and said, “Daoist Elder, please sit this way!”

The Daoist gave two more cold snorts, released Yang Tiexin’s wrist, and walked into the main hall. He seated himself right in the centre with great presumption and said, “You two are clearly men of Shandong, yet you’re hiding here pretending to be Lin’an farmers. Pity you can’t shake off that Shandong talk. How would farmhands know martial arts?” His own speech also carried a Shandong accent.

Yang Tiexin, equal parts mortified and furious, went into the inner room and took a dagger¹⁴ from a drawer. He tucked it into his bosom, then returned to the main hall. He poured three cups of wine, drained one himself, and sat in silence.

The Daoist gazed out at the heavy snow beyond the door. He neither drank nor spoke, just wore a faint, cold smile. Guo Xiaotian, seeing his hostile expression, knew the man suspected the wine had been drugged. He took the Daoist’s cup, drained it in one gulp, and said, “The wine cools fast. Let me pour Daoist Elder a warm one.” He filled another cup. The Daoist took it, drank it in one mouthful, and said, “Even if there were a knockout drug in the wine, it couldn’t knock me out.”

Yang Tiexin grew even more agitated and burst out, “We invited you to drink in good faith. Would we plot to harm you? The way you talk, Daoist, is downright insulting. Kindly leave. Our wine won’t go sour, and our food won’t spoil uneaten.”

The Daoist gave a snort and paid no attention. He took the wine pot, poured for himself, and downed three cups in succession. Then he suddenly untied his straw cloak and bamboo hat and threw them on the ground.

Guo and Yang looked carefully at the Daoist. He was some thirty years of age, his eyebrows slanting upward, his face ruddy, his face square and his ears large, his eyes bright and piercing.

He then untied the leather bag¹⁵ from his back, tilted it to one side, and something landed with a dull thud.

Guo and Yang both leapt to their feet.

What rolled out of the leather bag was a human head, bloody and unrecognisable.

Bao Xiruo cried out in fright, “Ah!” and fled into the inner hall. Li Ping followed her in.

Yang Tiexin reached for the dagger at his bosom. The Daoist shook the bag again, and two more bloody lumps tumbled out: one a heart, one a liver, and they did not look like a pig’s heart and liver. Very likely they were a man’s.

Yang Tiexin shouted, “You villainous Daoist!” The dagger flashed from his bosom and thrust straight at the Daoist’s chest.

The Daoist sneered, “So the eagle’s claws¹⁶ are striking, eh?” The edge of his left palm struck Yang Tiexin’s wrist. A wave of numbness shot through it, his five fingers went limp, and the dagger was plucked from his grip.

Guo Xiaotian was deeply alarmed. His sworn brother was a descendant of a famous general with family martial arts passed down through the generations. In their usual sparring, Guo himself was slightly the weaker of the two. Yet this Daoist treated him as though he were nothing. That last move had plainly been the legendary Barehanded Blade Disarm,¹⁷ a technique Guo had heard of but never seen. Fearing for his sworn brother’s safety, he bent and lifted a bench, ready to block should the Daoist strike with the dagger.

But the Daoist paid him no mind. He picked up the dagger and began hacking wildly, chopping the human heart and liver to pieces. Then he let out a long whistle that shook the roof tiles. He raised his right hand and brought his palm crashing down. Boom. Every cup and dish on the table leapt into the air. The skull of the human head had been shattered by his palm, and a great crack had split the table down the middle.

The two stood frozen between shock and suspicion when the Daoist barked, “Shameless rats, today this Daoist breaks the precept against killing!”

Yang Tiexin was furious beyond endurance. Where was there room for restraint? He snatched up the iron spear leaning in the corner of the room, rushed out into the snowy yard, and called, “Come on, then. Let me show you the might of the Yang Family Spear.”

The Daoist gave a faint sneer. “A yamen rat like you, presuming to wield the Yang Family Spear?” He leapt out through the door.

Guo Xiaotian ran home and fetched his pair of halberds.¹⁸ When he came back, the Daoist was standing empty-handed in the same spot, his robe sleeves fluttering in the north wind.

Yang Tiexin shouted, “Draw your jian!”

The Daoist said, “Both of you rats come at once. This Daoist will handle you empty-handed.”

Yang Tiexin settled into an opening stance and led with Poisonous Dragon Emerging from the Cave. The red tassel on the spear trembled, curling into a bowl-sized spear flower, as he thrust straight at the Daoist’s chest.

The Daoist started. “Good!” he said. He dodged left, flipped his left palm, and reached straight for the spearhead.

Yang Tiexin had devoted years of bitter effort to this spear and had gained considerable mastery of his ancestral art. The Yang Family Spear¹⁹ is no small thing. Old Lord Yang of Shanhou and Yang Liulang of the Northern Song lived long ago, and their spear art has been lost, so we need not speak of them. But in the Southern Song, the famous general Yang Zaixing²⁰ had learned the Yang Family Spear handed down in his family. In those days Yang Zaixing, with a single iron spear, led three hundred Song soldiers at Xiaoshang Bridge²¹ to fight forty thousand Jin troops. He fought hard and killed over two thousand enemy soldiers, spearing to death the Wanhu Commander Sababaojin²² and over a hundred Qianhu and Baihu commanders. The Jin arrows came like rain, and every time one struck him he snapped the arrow shaft and kept fighting, until at last his horse bogged in the mud and he fought to his death. When the Jin burned his body, they pulled out more than two sheng²³ of iron arrowheads. That battle left the Jin both awed and terrified, and the Yang Family Spear shook the Central Plains.

Though Yang Tiexin could not match his ancestor’s might and courage, he had thoroughly absorbed the heart of the spear art. See him: thrusting, stabbing, striking, lifting, blocking, spearing, warding, closing, the silver point flashing, the red tassel sparking. A magnificent run of spearwork!

Yang Tiexin got the spear going in earnest, the moves spirited and nimble, the changes subtle and clever. But the Daoist moved with the spear, dodging and retreating, advancing and withdrawing. How could the point touch him by so much as a hair? The seventy-two routes of the Yang Family Spear were nearly spent, and Yang Tiexin grew frantic. He trailed the iron spear behind him, turned, and made off. The Daoist, sure enough, gave chase. Yang Tiexin gave a great shout, seized the spear shaft with both hands, and in an instant twisted at the waist and flung out his arms, spinning back with the spear thrusting straight at the Daoist’s face. This thrust was fierce and savage, the Yang Family Spear’s move for breaking enemy lines that had slain general after general: Horse-Returning Spear.²⁴ Years ago, when Yang Zaixing was still a bandit chief, before he submitted to the Song, he had fought against Yue Fei²⁵ and with this very move speared Yue Fei’s brother Yue Fan.²⁶ Truly devastating beyond compare.

The Daoist saw the spear point arrive at his face in the space of a breath and cried, “Fine spearwork!” His palms came together with a crack, and the spear point was caught between them.

Yang Tiexin drove forward with all his might, but the spear did not move a hair’s breadth. He was greatly alarmed and struggled with everything he had to pull it back, but the spear point was as if cast into a mountain of iron. How could he draw it back? Face crimson, he yanked three times, and the point never came free of the Daoist’s grip.

The Daoist laughed loudly, then suddenly raised his right palm and struck the middle of the spear shaft swift as lightning. Crack. Yang Tiexin felt the webbing of his hand sear with pain and had to let go. The iron spear fell crashing into the snow.

Footnotes

1. 道君皇帝 — Dàojūn Huángdì. The self-styled Daoist title of Emperor Huizong of Song (r. 1100—1126), renowned for his paintings and calligraphy but reviled for presiding over the loss of northern China to the Jin. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

2. 奇门 — qímén. Literally strange gates. A branch of Chinese cosmology and divination concerned with the arrangement of space and time, applied to strategy and battle formations. ↩

3. 五行 — wǔxíng. The Five Phases of wood, fire, earth, metal and water, a framework of Chinese metaphysics, medicine and martial theory. ↩

4. 曲三 — Qū Sān. His name meaning “Qu Three” or “Qu Third”. See Wuxia Wiki (spoiler). ↩

5. 斤 — jīn. A unit of weight, about 590 grams in the Song dynasty. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

6. 红梅村 — Hóngméi Cūn. Literally red plum village. A village five li from Niu Family Village. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

7. 里 — lǐ. A traditional unit of distance, about 500 metres or one-third of a mile. ↩

8. 韩侂胄 — Hán Tuōzhòu (1152—1207). Chancellor of the Southern Song, who led the war against the Jin (historical). See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

9. 涌金门 — Yǒngjīn Mén. Literally gushing gold gate. Historic water gate of Lin’an, modern day Hangzhou. See Wikipedia. ↩

10. 剑 — jiàn. A straight, double-edged blade. ↩

11. 轻功 — qīnggōng. The martial art of body lightness. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

12. 道长 — dàozhǎng. Literally Daoist elder. A respectful form of address for a Daoist priest. ↩

13. 江湖 — jiānghú. Literally rivers and lakes. The world of martial artists, outside mainstream society. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

14. 匕首 — bǐshǒu. A short dagger or stiletto. ↩

15. 革囊 — génáng. A leather bag or sack. ↩

16. 鹰爪子 — yīngzhuǎzi. Literally eagle’s claws. A derogatory term for the hired enforcers and agents of the powerful. ↩

17. 空手夺白刃 — Kōngshǒu Duó Báirèn. Advanced unarmed technique for disarming armed opponents. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

18. 戟 — jǐ. A halberd combining a spear point with a dagger-axe blade. ↩

19. 杨家枪法 — Yángjiā Qiāngfǎ. Literally Yang family spear method. The hereditary spear art of the Yang family of generals. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

20. 杨再兴 — Yáng Zàixīng (?—1140). A Song general under Yue Fei, famed for his courage against the Jin. ↩

21. 小商桥 — Xiǎoshāng Qiáo. A bridge in modern Linying, Henan, where Yang Zaixing fell fighting the Jin in 1140. ↩

22. 撒八孛堇 — Sābā Bójǐn. A Jin commander of ten thousand. 孛堇 (bójǐn) was a Jurchen title for a chieftain or commander. ↩

23. 升 — shēng. A unit of volume, about 670 millilitres in the Song dynasty. ↩

24. 回马枪 — Huímǎqiāng. Literally horse-returning spear. A feigned retreat followed by a sudden turning thrust. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

25. 岳飞 — Yuè Fēi (1103—1142). The most celebrated Song general of the wars against the Jin, executed on false charges. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

26. 岳翻 — Yuè Fān. Yue Fei’s younger brother, killed by Yang Zaixing before Yang went over to the Song. ↩