The Legend of the Condor Heroes Chapter 12 – Part 2

Huang Rong smiled faintly. She and Guo Jing ate their rice with the remnants of the dishes. She needed only a single bowl before she was full, but Guo Jing polished off four large bowls. He could hardly tell whether the food was good or indifferent. Hong Qigong shook his head and sighed, “An ox chewing on peonies.¹ What a waste, what a waste.” Huang Rong pressed her lips together and gave a soft laugh. Guo Jing thought, Do oxen like eating peonies? There are plenty of oxen in Mongolia, but no peonies, so of course I’ve never seen an ox eat one. But why should he say “What a waste, what a waste”?

Hong Qigong rubbed his belly and said, “You two youngsters both know martial arts. I spotted that long ago. The girl has racked her brains to make me food this good, so she must be up to no good. She means to leave me no choice but to teach you a few moves. Well, after eating something this good, it really wouldn’t do not to teach you a few. Come, come, come, follow me.” He shouldered his gourd, picked up his bamboo staff, and set off at once.

Guo Jing and Huang Rong followed him to a pine forest beyond the town. Hong Qigong asked Guo Jing, “What do you want to learn?”

Guo Jing thought, Martial learning is so vast. Can you really teach me whatever I want to learn? He was still turning this over when Huang Rong said, “Qigong, he isn’t as good as me, and he’s always cross about it. What he wants most of all is to beat me.”

Guo Jing said, “When have I ever been cross…”

Huang Rong shot him a look, and Guo Jing fell silent. Hong Qigong laughed. “His hands and feet look steady to me, and his neigong foundation isn’t bad. How can he be worse than you? Come on, you two youngsters, have a bout.”

Huang Rong stepped forward several paces and called out, “Jing gege, come on.” Guo Jing still hesitated. Huang Rong said, “If you don’t show him what you can do, how is he going to teach you?”

Guo Jing thought she had a point. He said to Hong Qigong, “This junior’s martial arts are poor. Please, sir, give me plenty of guidance.”

Hong Qigong said, “A little guidance won’t hurt, but plenty of guidance isn’t worth my while.”

Guo Jing was taken aback. Huang Rong shouted, “Watch this!” She darted in close and struck with her palm. Guo Jing raised his arms to block, but Huang Rong changed moves with startling speed. She had already pulled back her palm and sent a flying kick at his legs.

Hong Qigong called out, “Good. Girl, you really have got something.”

“Do it properly, and mean it,” Huang Rong whispered. Guo Jing pulled himself together and launched into the Southern Mountain Palm Technique² that Nan Xiren had taught him, his palms turning and closing with the wind roaring off them. Huang Rong darted high and low, defending with all her attention. They traded moves for some time, and then she suddenly changed and brought out the Peach Blossom Falling Petals Palm,³ a technique her father Huang Yaoshi had created himself.

Huang Yaoshi had devised it while watching the peach blossom falling in drifts on Peach Blossom Island.⁴ Its moves changed endlessly, and it set great store by beauty of posture. She swung both arms until palm shadows filled the air on every side, sometimes five feints and one strike, sometimes eight feints and one strike, like a sudden gale through a peach grove with ten thousand petals falling at once. The marvel of it lay in the airy grace of her hands and feet, as though she were dancing. But her neili⁵ was still shallow, and she was careful not to hurt him, so her palms never came with the keen edge of a jian. Guo Jing was dazzled. How could he keep his guard? Before he knew it, smack, smack, smack, smack, left shoulder, right shoulder, chest and back, he had taken four palms one after another. Huang Rong had put no force into them, so of course he felt no pain. She laughed and leapt away.

“Rong-er, that’s wonderful palm work!” Guo Jing cried.

Hong Qigong said coldly, “With a father as able as yours, why do you need me to teach this silly boy martial arts?”

Huang Rong was startled. She thought, This Peach Blossom Falling Petals Palm is something Father invented himself. He said he’d never used it against anyone in a fight. How could Qigong recognise it? She asked, “Qigong, you know my father?”

Hong Qigong said, “Of course. He’s the Eastern Heretic,⁶ and I’m the Northern Beggar.⁷ Do you think I haven’t had fights enough with him?”

Huang Rong thought, He fought Father and didn’t get killed or hurt. His skill really is something. No wonder the Northern Beggar ranks alongside the Eastern Heretic. She asked, “And how did you come to know me?”

Hong Qigong said, “Look in a mirror. Don’t your eyes and nose look just like your father’s? I didn’t recognise you at first, but your face seemed familiar. Of course, your father isn’t as pretty as you. If Old Heretic Huang⁸ turned into a pretty boy, there’d be chaos under heaven. But your martial arts gave you away plainly enough. How could Old Beggar not know the Peach Blossom Island style? I’ve never seen that palm method before, but no one under heaven except your imp of a father could have dreamt it up. Heh, heh, and those two dishes of yours, ‘Whose Jade Flute Plays the Falling Plum?’ and ‘Fine Match Soup’,⁹ your father must have given them their names.”

Huang Rong laughed. “You see through everything, sir, like a god. You think my father is formidable, don’t you?”

Hong Qigong said coldly, “Formidable, of course, but that doesn’t make him the greatest under heaven.”

Huang Rong clapped her hands. “Then it must be you.”

Hong Qigong said, “Not necessarily either. Many years ago, the five of us, the Eastern Heretic, the Western Venom,¹⁰ the Southern Emperor,¹¹ the Northern Beggar and the Central Divine,¹² met on the summit of Mount Hua¹³ to compete and debate the jian. We fought for seven days and seven nights, and in the end the Central Divine proved the greatest. The four of us acknowledged him as the first under heaven.”

Huang Rong asked, “Who was the Central Divine?”

“Your father never told you?”

“My father only told me a little, and when I asked more he wouldn’t say. He said the wulin has a lot of bad things in it and very few good, and it does a girl no good to hear about them, so he hardly ever talked to me about it. Then Father scolded me, and he didn’t love me any more, so I ran away. Now he’ll never want me again.” She lowered her head as she said it, looking forlorn.

“The old fiend,” Hong Qigong swore. “He really is a heretic.”

Huang Rong said crossly, “Don’t scold my father.”

Hong Qigong chuckled. “It’s a pity no one would marry a beggar, he’s too poor. Otherwise, if I’d had a sweet daughter like you, I’d never have the heart to drive you away.”

Huang Rong laughed. “Of course you wouldn’t! If you drove me away, who would cook for you?”

Hong Qigong sighed. “True, true.” For no particular reason he felt a pang of melancholy that his good fortune at the table was not yet complete. After a pause he said, “The Central Divine was Wang Chongyang,¹⁴ the Order Leader of the Quanzhen Order.¹⁵ Since he went to heaven, who is first under heaven is very hard to say.”

Huang Rong said, “Quanzhen Order? Hmm. There’s one surnamed Qiu, one surnamed Wang, and one surnamed Ma, all ox-nosed¹⁶ Daoists. They look pretty ordinary to me. They fight someone, and after two or three moves they’re poisoned and wounded.”

Hong Qigong said, “Is that so? Those are Wang Chongyang’s disciples, you know. I hear that of his seven disciples Qiu Chuji¹⁷ is the strongest, but even he doesn’t match their shishu¹⁸ Zhou Botong.¹⁹”

Huang Rong started slightly at the name Zhou Botong. She opened her mouth to say something, then held her tongue.

Guo Jing had been listening to the two of them and now broke in, “That’s right. Daoist Elder Ma²⁰ mentioned that they had a shishu, but he never told us this Senior Daoist Elder’s name.”

Hong Qigong said, “Zhou Botong isn’t a Daoist. He’s a layman, and Wang Chongyang taught him his martial arts himself. Heh, you’re a dull, thick-headed lump, and your father-in-law is as clever as they come. I don’t suppose he likes you much, does he?”

Guo Jing had never considered who his “father-in-law” might be. He stammered and could find no answer. Huang Rong smiled. “My father has never met him. If you would be kind enough to give him a little guidance, Father would like him for your sake.”

“You little imp,” Hong Qigong scolded. “You haven’t learned a tenth of your father’s martial arts, but you’ve learned every last one of his crafty tricks. I don’t like flattery and fawning, and Old Beggar has never taken a disciple. Who’d want a stupid lump of a boy like this? Only you, who treat him like a treasure and rack your brains to wheedle me into teaching your silly husband-to-be martial arts. Heh, heh, Old Beggar isn’t falling for that!”

Huang Rong lowered her head and could not help blushing. She had never been serious about learning martial arts. With a father of such skill, she had not bothered to follow his teaching properly. Why would she be scheming to learn Hong Qigong’s? But Guo Jing’s martial arts were not strong, and his six shifus never stopped calling her a “little witch”. Now that they had chanced upon a master as great as Hong Qigong, she only hoped he would teach Guo Jing something, so that in future, when Guo Jing met his six shifus and Qiu Chuji’s crowd of stinking Daoists, he need not be as terrified of them as a mouse of a cat. She had never guessed that for all his greed and his muddle-headed air, Hong Qigong saw perfectly clearly, and had seen through her private motive. He grumbled at her for a while, then got up and swaggered off.

It was a long while before Guo Jing said, “Rong-er, our Esteemed Senior has rather an unusual temper.”

Huang Rong heard the leaves rustling overhead and guessed that Hong Qigong had circled round behind the pines and sprung up into a tree. She said, “He’s a good, good man, and his skill is far greater than my father’s.”

Guo Jing asked in surprise, “He hasn’t shown any martial arts. How do you know?”

“I heard Father say so.”

“What did he say?”

“Father said that in the present age, the only man whose martial arts surpass his own is the Nine-Fingered Divine Beggar Hong Qigong.²¹ It’s a pity he never stays in one place, so Father can’t often be with him to compare their martial arts.”

Once he was well away, Hong Qigong had indeed used his peerless qinggong²² to circle back behind the wood and spring up into the tree, to listen in on their talk and find out whether Huang Yaoshi had sent these two to steal his martial arts. Hearing Huang Rong repeat her father’s words, he could not help feeling pleased with himself. He thought, Huang Yaoshi has never once admitted I’m his better, but in his heart he admires me after all.

How could he know that all of this was Huang Rong’s invention? He heard her continue, “I haven’t learned much of Father’s martial arts myself. I was too fond of playing as a child and wouldn’t apply myself. Now we’ve been lucky enough to meet Esteemed Senior Hong, and if he’d give us a little guidance, wouldn’t that be even better than Father teaching me himself? But I let my tongue run away with me and said the wrong thing, and I’ve made him angry.” With that she began to sob. At first the tears were put on, but when Guo Jing murmured a few soft words of comfort, she thought of her mother, dead so young, and her father so far away, and the pretence turned real. She wept as if her heart would break. Listening, Hong Qigong could not help feeling that here was someone who truly understood him.

Huang Rong cried for a while, then said between sobs, “I heard Father say that Esteemed Senior Hong has a set of martial arts that truly has no equal under heaven, past or present, and that even Wang Chongyang of the Quanzhen Order was a little wary of it. It’s called…it’s called…oh, why can’t I remember? I knew it a moment ago. I wanted to ask him to teach it to you. This fist technique is called…called…”

In truth she knew nothing of the sort. It was all made up on the spot.

Up in the treetop, listening to her rack her brains, Hong Qigong could bear it no longer. “It’s called the Eighteen Palms of Dragon Subduing!”²³ he bellowed, and leapt down.

Footnotes

1. 牛嚼牡丹 — niú jiáo mǔdān. Literally an ox chewing peonies. Said of someone who consumes something fine without appreciating it. ↩

2. 南山掌法 — Nánshān Zhǎngfǎ. Literally southern mountain palm method. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

3. 桃华落英掌 — Táohuā Luòyīng Zhǎng. Palm technique with palm shadows like scattering peach blossoms. Originally called 落英神剑掌 (Falling Petals Divine Sword Palm) in earlier editions. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

4. 桃花岛 — Táohuā Dǎo. Huang Yaoshi’s island in the East China Sea. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

5. 内力 — nèilì. Literally internal force. The kinetic manifestation of cultivated qi. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

6. 东邪 — Dōng Xié. Literally eastern heretic. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

7. 北丐 — Běi Gài. Literally northern beggar. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

8. 黄老邪 — Huáng Lǎoxié. Literally old heretic Huang. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

9. 好逑汤 — Hǎoqiú Tāng. Literally fine-match soup. A dish name drawn from the first poem of the Classic of Poetry (关关雎鸠，在河之洲。窈窕淑女，君子好逑). ↩

10. 西毒 — Xī Dú. Literally western venom. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

11. 南帝 — Nán Dì. Literally southern emperor. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

12. 中神通 — Zhōng Shéntōng. Literally divine one of the centre. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

13. 华山 — Huàshān. Literally splendid mountain. Mount Hua, the western of the Five Sacred Mountains, in Shaanxi. See Wikipedia. ↩

14. 王重阳 — Wáng Chóngyáng. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

15. 全真教 — Quánzhēn Jiào. Literally complete truth order. Daoist martial-monastic order founded by Wang Chongyang, one of the most influential orthodox factions. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

16. 牛鼻子 — niúbízi. Literally ox nose. A derogatory name for Daoist priests, after the topknot they wear. ↩

17. 丘处机 — Qiū Chǔjī. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

18. 师叔 — shīshū. Junior lineage uncle. The shidi or shimei of one’s shifu. Shī means teacher. Shū means father’s younger brother. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

19. 周伯通 — Zhōu Bótōng. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

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

21. 九指神丐 — Jiǔzhǐ Shéngài. Literally nine-fingered divine beggar. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

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

23. 降龙十八掌 — Xiánglóng Shíbā Zhǎng. Literally eighteen dragon-subduing palms. Hong Qigong’s palm technique. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩