The Legend of the Condor Heroes Chapter 13 – Part 6

Mu Nianci struggled to free herself, but felt her tiger’s mouth¹ go numb as the Willow-Leaf Dao was snatched from her grip and tossed aside. No sooner had she wriggled free than his arms closed around her once more. It was just the way Huang Rong had held her outside Wanyan Kang’s envoy’s residence. His hands clamped exactly over her pulse-gates,² and she could not move a muscle.

Mu Nianci felt his arms tighten around her, his right hand stroking gently across her face. She knew he meant her no good, and in her panic she fainted.

After some time she drifted back to consciousness. Her body would not stir. She opened her mouth to cry out and discovered her mouth had been bound with a handkerchief. Ouyang Ke sat cross-legged on the ground, arms folded around her, his face tense with anxiety. Four white-robed women sat on each side of him, each armed, every one of them staring in silence at the pile of white skulls on the rock.

Mu Nianci could not make out what they were up to. She looked round, and her soul all but fled in terror. Behind Ouyang Ke crouched several thousand green snakes, their bodies still, yet their forked red tongues flickering ceaselessly. In the moonlight those thousands of forked red tongues rose and fell like waves, a whole sea of tongues, a ghastly sight. Among the snakes stood three men in white holding long poles, all of them waiting for something. They were the men she had seen before.

She dared not look long. Her eyes returned to the nine skulls and the faintly gleaming gold-ringed belt, and suddenly she understood, and thought, Ah, they are waiting for his shifu. By the look of it, they have set out their ranks to take revenge. If his shifu comes alone, how can one person hold them off? And there are all these venomous snakes besides.

She was frantic. She hoped Wanyan Kang’s shifu would not come, and yet she hoped the shifu would come and work wonders, beat this villain and save her.

She waited for more than half a shichen.³ The moon climbed higher. Ouyang Ke kept glancing up at it, and she thought, Perhaps his shifu will not appear until the moon reaches its zenith. The moon rose past the pine treetops. The sky was cloudless, a vast wash of blue. Crickets chirped from every quarter, and now and then an owl called from the distance. No other sound came.

Ouyang Ke looked at the moon, then placed Mu Nianci in the arms of a woman beside him. He took out his folding fan in his right hand and fixed his eyes on the bend of the hillside. Mu Nianci knew the person they waited for would soon appear.

In the stillness a shrill, ghastly whistling cry came faintly from far away. In an instant the sound was upon them. A shadow flickered. A woman with long, dishevelled hair emerged from behind the cliff. The moment she rounded the rock she slowed her pace, as though she had sensed someone close at hand. It was Mei Chaofeng, the Iron Corpse.

Since Guo Jing had passed on to her a few secrets of neigong cultivation, Mei Chaofeng had practised them devotedly. In a single month she had opened her Changqiang acupoint⁴ and could walk normally again, and her neigong had advanced greatly. Her tracks had been uncovered, she knew, and it would not do to stay on at Prince Zhao’s residence. When the Young Prince took up his envoy duties and travelled south, she went with him. Each night at the hour of zi⁵ she secretly cultivated her art. A boat was very inconvenient for such practice, so she travelled by land on her own each night, having agreed with Wanyan Kang to meet at Suzhou.

She did not know that Wanyan Kang had fallen into the hands of the Lake Tai heroes. Nor did she know that Ouyang Ke, to avenge the insult of his slain concubines and his torn robe and, still more, to seize her Nine Yin Manual⁶ into his own hands, had gathered a great host of snakes and tracked her to this place, where he knew she must pass by night.

No sooner had she rounded the cliff than she heard the breathing of several people. She halted at once to listen, and made out, behind those few, countless faint and eerie little sounds.

Seeing that she had sensed them, Ouyang Ke cursed to himself, The blind hag is sharp! With a light flick of his fan he rose to his feet, ready to spring. The moment power had gathered in his toes, before he could launch himself, another figure emerged from behind the cliff. He checked himself at once.

The newcomer was tall and thin, dressed in a blue scholar’s robe with a square cap upon his head. A literatus, though his face was hard to make out.

Most strange of all was his footwork. For all Mei Chaofeng’s supreme skill, her movements still made a faint rustling. This man came along slowly, without the least effort, his form drifting like a ghost or wraith, as though he rode the clouds and glided on mist, his feet not quite touching the earth. The sound he made was almost nothing.

He swept a glance across Ouyang Ke and his party, then took his place behind Mei Chaofeng.

Ouyang Ke studied his face and could not suppress a shudder. His features were grotesque beyond description. Apart from two eyeballs that shifted faintly, his face was as still as a corpse’s, utterly without expression. Not that he was ugly, exactly. It was only that he was cold in the extreme and blank in the extreme, so that one look at him set a man trembling.

Ouyang Ke steadied himself. Mei Chaofeng was advancing step by step, and he knew her first strike would be vicious. He must seize the initiative. His left hand made a signal. The three snake-drivers blew their whistles and drove the serpents forward. Eight white-robed women sat motionless, their bodies bearing herbs that repelled snakes. The serpents dared not approach them, but swept past on either side.

Mei Chaofeng heard them slithering and knew at once that there were countless snakes. Her heart sank. She drew a breath and leapt several dozen feet clear.

The men with the poles waved them to and fro. Thousands of green snakes scattered across the hillside. Mu Nianci, straining her eyes, saw that Mei Chaofeng’s face showed alarm, and could not help fretting for her, and thought, Can this strange woman be his shifu?

Mei Chaofeng spun on her heel and drew from her waist a long whip that gleamed like polished silver. She whirled it in wide arcs to guard herself. In the space of a cup of tea, venomous snakes had encircled her on every side. A few, driven too hard by the whistles, lunged at her, but the wind of her whip sent them flying.

Ouyang Ke called out, “Mei, you old witch, I have no wish to take your life. Hand over the Nine Yin Manual, and this young master will let you go on your way.”

He had learned at Prince Zhao’s residence that the Manual was in her keeping, and his greed had blazed up. He told himself he must seize it, no matter the cost, or his journey to the Central Plains would have been for nothing. If he could lay the Manual, which his uncle had sought by a hundred devices and never won, in his uncle’s hands, the old man’s joy would go without saying. And so he had been trailing Mei Chaofeng all along. He was meticulous and sly, and Mei Chaofeng was blind. She had never once sensed him behind her.

Mei Chaofeng paid him no heed. Her silver whip whirled faster still, throwing up a thousand threads of silver in the soft moonlight.

Ouyang Ke called, “If you have it in you, keep dancing another shichen. I’ll wait till dawn and see whether you hand it over or not.”

Mei Chaofeng was sorely troubled, turning over means of escape in her mind. But on every side she heard the hissing of snakes. She dared not take another step now, for fear of treading on a venomous snake. A single bite, and for all her martial arts she would be helpless.

Ouyang Ke seated himself on the ground. After a while he said smugly, “Big Sister Mei, this Manual of yours was stolen to begin with. In twenty years you must have worked it through by now. What use is it to cling to that battered old copy? Let me borrow a look. We shall turn enemies into friends, let bygones be bygones. Is that not a fine arrangement?”

Mei Chaofeng said, “Call off your snake formation first.”

Ouyang Ke laughed. “Toss the Manual out first.”

Mei Chaofeng held the Nine Yin Manual dearer than her own life. How could she hand it over? She had made up her mind, and thought, The moment a snake bites me, I’ll tear the pages to shreds.

Ouyang Ke kept his eyes fixed on her hands. The moment the force of her silver whip flagged even slightly, he would drive the snakes in. Over a hundred green snakes already lay dead beside her. But venomous snakes were beyond number. How could she break out? Ouyang Ke, for his part, dared not press too close, for fear of her savage whip and her vicious hidden weapons.

Suddenly, from high in the air came a sound like a plucked qin, like jade struck. Several clear notes rang out, then a long, drifting melody descended, the pure, mellow voice of a dongxiao.⁷ Everyone present started. Ouyang Ke raised his head and saw the stranger in blue seated at the very crown of a tall pine, a jade flute to his lips, playing.

Ouyang Ke was astonished. His eyesight was ordinarily keen, and in this moonlight bright as day, yet the man had climbed to the treetop without his noticing. The pine’s crown swayed in the wind, yet the stranger sat perfectly steady upon it. Since childhood his uncle had drilled him hard in qinggong,⁸ yet to sit poised upon such a perch, he doubted twenty more years of practice would bring him there. Could there truly be ghosts in the world?

The flute’s melody flowed on without break. Ouyang Ke felt his heart stir, and a smile rose unbidden to his face. His blood boiled hot through every limb, and a wild desire to leap and dance seized him. He had just raised his hand and kicked out when alarm broke through. He forced his mind to stillness.

The three snake-drivers and six of the concubines had already run to the foot of the tree, spinning and capering about it. They danced and danced, then began to tear at their own clothes, scratching at their faces and heads. Blood streaked their faces, yet every face wore an idiot smile. They were like people possessed, and seemed to feel no pain at all.

Ouyang Ke was shaken. From his pouch he drew six poison-daubed silver shuttles⁹ and hurled them with all his force at the stranger’s head, chest and belly.

The shuttles reached the stranger. With the tail of his flute he flicked each one aside, light as though brushing away dust. His lips never left the mouthpiece. The music did not falter for an instant.

The music flowed and turned. Ouyang Ke could bear it no longer. His fan sprang open and he was about to dance.

Fortunately his neili¹⁰ was deep, and he knew that once he began, unless the flute fell silent, he would dance until he dropped dead. A last clarity remained to him. By sheer force of will he drew back the hand that had reached out to wave his fan, and he thought in a flash, Quick, tear off a strip of robe, stuff your ears, don’t listen to his flute.

But the music was so beautiful that, though he had torn the cloth from his robe, he could not bring himself to block it out. Alarmed and afraid, he broke into a cold sweat all over. He saw Mei Chaofeng seated cross-legged on the ground, her head bowed in concentration, evidently battling the flute’s allure. Three of his concubines, whose neili was weaker, had already collapsed, rolling and writhing on the ground, tearing their clothes to shreds. Mu Nianci, her acupoints sealed, could not move. Though the flute’s music filled her heart with strange longing, her limbs were not her own to command, and she lay still, though her mind was in the utmost turmoil.

Ouyang Ke’s cheeks burned crimson. Heat surged through his chest. His throat was dry and his tongue parched. He knew that if he did not act at once, he would not survive the night. He steeled his heart and bit down hard on his own tongue. In the sharp burst of pain, the flute’s spell loosened for an instant, and he turned and fled at full speed, running without pause for several li¹¹ before the sound of the flute faded at last.

Only then did he allow himself a moment’s relief. He was utterly spent, every limb weak, as though he had survived a great illness. He could only think, Who is this strange man? Who is this strange man?

---

After Huang Rong and Guo Jing had seen Mu Nianci on her way, they returned to their rooms and slept soundly. The next day they spent in leisurely wandering along the shores of Lake Tai. That evening they sat with the Manor Master, appreciating paintings and discussing literature, at perfect ease.

Guo Jing knew that with Mu Nianci gone, Mei Chaofeng would arrive within days. Her strikes were merciless, and no one at Returning Clouds Manor could stand against her. Many would be hurt. He spoke with Huang Rong. “We ought to tell the Manor Master about Mei Chaofeng. Ask him to release Wanyan Kang, before someone at the manor falls to her hand.”

Huang Rong waved her hand. “No. Wanyan Kang is no good fellow. Let him stew a few days longer. Release him too easily and he will not reform.”

In truth, she cared nothing at all for whether Wanyan Kang reformed or not. Deep down, she rather thought that since he was the disciple of Qiu Chuji and Mei Chaofeng, the “two great villains,” there was little point in his turning good. Keeping up the fight with him was more entertaining. But if he would not reform, then by Mu Nianci’s account she would never marry him, and with no husband for Mu Nianci, busybodies would most likely try to foist her on Guo Jing again. That would be a disaster. So it was better, all in all, for Wanyan Kang to repent.

Guo Jing asked, “And what if Mei Chaofeng comes?”

Huang Rong laughed. “We can try the skills Qigong taught us on her.”

Guo Jing knew her temper. There was no point arguing. He reflected that the Manor Master had shown them every courtesy, and when danger came to his home, it was only right to give his all in defence.

Two days passed. Neither mentioned leaving, and the Manor Master treated them with ever greater courtesy, hoping they would stay a while longer.

On the morning of the third day, the Manor Master was sitting with Guo Jing and Huang Rong in the study when Lu Guanying hurried in, his expression odd. Behind him came a manor hand bearing a wooden tray, on which something sat beneath a blue cloth cover.

Lu Guanying said, “Father, someone just delivered this.”

He lifted the cloth. A white bone skull stared up at them, five finger-holes bored through the bone. It was Mei Chaofeng’s mark.

Guo Jing and Huang Rong had expected her to come. The sight did not trouble them. But the Manor Master’s face drained of colour. He asked in a shaking voice, “Who… who brought this?” He pushed himself up on his hands.

Footnotes

1. 虎口 — hǔkǒu. Literally tiger’s mouth. The web of skin between thumb and forefinger. ↩

2. 脉门 — màimén. Literally pulse gate. The point on the inner wrist where the pulse is felt; a hard grip there robs an opponent of strength. ↩

3. 时辰 — shíchén. Traditional Chinese unit of time equal to two hours; the day was divided into twelve shichen. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

4. 长强穴 — Chángqiáng Xué. Literally long and strong. An acupoint at the base of the spine, where the Governing Vessel begins. ↩

5. 子时 — zǐshí. The hour of zi, the first of the twelve shichen, from 11 p.m. to 1 a.m. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

6. 九阴真经 — Jiǔyīn Zhēnjīng. Literally true scripture of the nine yin. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

7. 洞箫 — dòngxiāo. An end-blown vertical bamboo flute with a deep, mellow tone. ↩

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

9. 银梭 — yínsuō. Literally silver shuttle. A concealed weapon shaped like a weaving shuttle. ↩

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

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