The Legend of the Condor Heroes Chapter 33 – Part 1

Impending disaster¹

Guo Jing² and Huang Rong³ were in high spirits just then and had no wish to meddle in other people’s affairs, but at the words “Old Wild Child”⁴ they both started, sprang up together and hurried after the pair. The two men ahead were indifferent martial artists and noticed nothing. Five or six li⁵ out of the town they turned into a hollow among the hills, and from behind the hill came a ceaseless din of shouting and cursing.

Guo Jing and Huang Rong quickened their pace and followed them into the hollow. A crowd of men stood bunched together there, two of them holding torches, and in their midst Zhou Botong⁶ sat on the ground, stiff and motionless, whether alive or dead they could not tell. Opposite him, cross-legged and wrapped in a bright red kasaya,⁷ sat none other than Venerable Lingzhi,⁸ just as still.

To Zhou Botong’s left was a cave with a mouth so small that only one man at a time could stoop and go in. Some of the crowd were shouting abuse at the entrance, yet none of them dared go near it, as though afraid that something inside would come out and hurt them.

Guo Jing remembered the night-traveller’s words, “Old Wild Child has fallen for Big Brother Peng’s trick,”⁹ and seeing Zhou Botong sitting there like a stiffened corpse, he feared the worst had already befallen him. In his alarm he made to leap forward, but Huang Rong caught him by the arm. “Let’s see how things stand first,” she whispered. The two of them crouched behind a rock and looked at the men outside the cave. Every one of them was an old acquaintance: the Ginseng Old Eccentric Liang Ziweng,¹⁰ the Dragon King of Devil’s Gate Sha Tongtian,¹¹ the Butcher of a Thousand Hands Peng Lianhu,¹² and the Three-Headed Dragon Hou Tonghai,¹³ short of an arm now but with three extra lumps of flesh on his forehead. The other two were the night-travellers they had just seen, and with the torchlight on their faces they could be recognised as Liang Ziweng’s disciples, men Guo Jing had fought when he was first learning the Eighteen Palms of Dragon Subduing.¹⁴

Huang Rong reckoned that these men were no longer a match for Guo Jing and herself. She looked all around and, seeing nobody else, whispered, “With Old Wild Child’s skill, how could this lot ever get the better of him? The way things look, the Western Venom Ouyang Feng¹⁵ must be watching from somewhere close by.” She was about to find some way of scouting the ground when Peng Lianhu barked, “You cur, if you won’t come out, I’ll smoke you out.” A low, steady voice answered from inside the cave, “Whatever stinking tricks you have, let’s see them all.”

Guo Jing knew the voice at once for his eldest shifu,¹⁶ Ke Zhen’e,¹⁷ and he no longer cared whether Ouyang Feng was nearby or not. “Shifu,” he shouted, “your disciple Guo Jing is here!” He arrived hard on the heels of his own voice. His hand rose and fell, and he had already seized Hou Tonghai by the back and sent him flying.

His intervention threw the men outside the cave into uproar. Sha Tongtian and Peng Lianhu attacked him side by side, while Liang Ziweng circled behind Guo Jing to take him unawares. Inside the cave Ke Zhen’e heard all of it plainly, and with a flick of his hand he sent a poisoned caltrop¹⁸ at Liang Ziweng’s back. It split the air with a fierce, rushing whine. Liang Ziweng ducked in haste, and the caltrop skimmed over the crown of his head, its wind brushing his scalp with a faint sting. Cold sweat broke out all down his back. He knew that Ke Zhen’e’s hidden weapons were tipped with deadly poison, and Peng Lianhu had once come within a hair of dying of one. He leapt some ten feet clear and felt the top of his head: by luck the skin was unbroken. He hurriedly drew a Bone-Penetrating Nail¹⁹ from his robe and crept quietly round to the left of the cave mouth, meaning to shoot it inside in return. But his hand had barely come out when his wrist went numb. Something had struck it, and with a clink the nail fell to the ground. A woman’s voice laughed, “Quick, down on your knees, you’re in for another taste of the stick!”

Liang Ziweng whipped round and saw Huang Rong standing there, bamboo staff in hand, all smiles. Startled and furious at once, he struck at her shoulder with his left palm and grabbed straight for the staff with his right. Huang Rong slipped aside from his left palm but left the staff where it was and let him seize its end. Liang Ziweng was delighted and wrenched at it, thinking that if the girl did not let go he would drag her over, staff and all. He pulled, and the staff did indeed come with the pull, but then its end gave a sudden quiver and slid out of his palm. By now the end of the staff was inside the circle of his guard, and both his hands were outside it. He snatched back at it, far too late. A green blur flickered before his eyes and, crack, the staff came down full on his head with a heavy blow. His martial arts were no mean thing, at least: in the crisis he threw himself down, rolled more than ten feet away and sprang up again, staring dumbly at this bright-eyed, white-toothed girl, his head throbbing, his wits in a muddle, his face a picture of embarrassment.

Huang Rong laughed. “You know the name of this staff technique. Now that I’ve hit you with it, what does that make you?” Liang Ziweng had suffered under the Dog-Beating Staff Technique²⁰ before, when Hong Qigong²¹ had handled him to within an inch of his life, and though it was many years ago, the memory still made him shudder. The staff before him was Hong Qigong’s Dog-Beating Staff,²⁰ and the technique was Hong Qigong’s Dog-Beating Staff Technique, yet the body it had struck was his own, and he did not think he was a dog. He rubbed the top of his head, quite at a loss. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sha Tongtian and Peng Lianhu falling back step after step under the pressure of Guo Jing’s palms, able only to parry. “For old Guild Chief Hong’s sake,” he cried, “let’s make ourselves scarce!” He called his two disciples and turned and ran.

Guo Jing drove his left elbow back and sent Sha Tongtian reeling three paces, and with the same movement his left hand swept across. Peng Lianhu saw the fearsome force of the palm wind and, not daring to meet it head-on, hurriedly dodged aside. Guo Jing’s right hand hooked round, caught him by the back and lifted him clean off the ground. Peng Lianhu was a short man, and at once both his feet were dangling in the air. He tried to fight back with fists and feet, but all the strength had gone from his limbs. He saw Guo Jing’s left hand clench into a fist that was about to come smashing into his chest like an iron mallet. How could he ever survive such a blow? “What day of the eighth month is it today?” he cried in haste. Guo Jing was taken aback. “What?” he asked. “Do you keep faith or don’t you?” Peng Lianhu went on. “Does a true man’s word count for anything?” “What?” Guo Jing asked again, his right hand still holding him up. Peng Lianhu said, “We agreed to fight it out at Misty Rain Pavilion²² in Jiaxing on the fifteenth of the eighth month. Is this Jiaxing? Is today the Mid-Autumn Festival? How can you harm me?”

Guo Jing thought he had a point and was about to let him go when something came back to him. “What have you done to my Big Brother Zhou?” he asked. “Old Wild Child made a bet with that monk that whoever moved first would lose,” said Peng Lianhu. “What’s that got to do with me?”

Guo Jing glanced at the two men sitting on the ground and was at once relieved. He thought, So that’s what it is. “Eldest Shifu,” he called out, “are you well?” From inside the cave Ke Zhen’e gave a snort. Afraid that Peng Lianhu would lash out with a kick at his chest the moment he let go, Guo Jing swung his right hand and flung him some ten feet away. “Off you go!” he cried.

Peng Lianhu rode the throw and landed on his feet. Seeing that Sha Tongtian and Liang Ziweng had long since fled far away, he cursed them under his breath for fair-weather friends. He saluted Guo Jing with clasped fists and said, “Seven days from now, we’ll settle it at Misty Rain Pavilion.” Then he turned and sped off with all his qinggong.²³ All the way he puzzled over it, Every time I meet that boy his martial arts have come on again. What strange business is this? Has he swallowed some miracle elixir, or been taught by the immortals?

Huang Rong went over to Zhou Botong and Venerable Lingzhi. Each sat glaring at the other with eyes wide open, and truly, neither so much as blinked. Seeing how things stood, and recalling what the night-traveller had said, she knew that Peng Lianhu had played a dirty trick. Wary of Old Wild Child’s formidable martial arts, they had goaded him into a bet with the monk that whoever moved first would lose. Venerable Lingzhi’s martial arts fell short of his many times over, but in this way he could be held fast while the rest of them went off to deal with Ke Zhen’e. Old Wild Child loved having someone to play with and had no guile in him, so naturally he had fallen for it. The fighting beside him might turn heaven and earth upside down, but he sat as firm as Mount Tai and would not stir so much as his little finger: nothing on earth would make him lose to Venerable Lingzhi.

Huang Rong called out, “Old Wild Child, I’m here!” Zhou Botong heard her, but for fear of losing the bet he did not answer. “If you two go on wearing each other down like this,” said Huang Rong, “another few shichen²⁴ of sitting won’t settle it either, and where’s the fun in that? I’ll tell you what. I’ll tickle you both at the Laughing Waist acupoint²⁵ at the same time, with exactly the same pressure in each hand, and whoever laughs out loud first loses.”

Zhou Botong was thoroughly sick of sitting there, and her proposal suited him down to the ground, only he dared not show that he agreed.

Without another word, Huang Rong stepped between the two of them, squatted down and laid the Dog-Beating Staff on the ground. Then she stretched out both arms and jabbed an index finger at each man’s Laughing Waist acupoint.

She knew that Zhou Botong’s neigong²⁶ far surpassed the monk’s, so she played no tricks, and the force in her two hands truly was equal. Yet, strange to say, while Zhou Botong naturally did not stir, Venerable Lingzhi too seemed to feel nothing and paid it no heed whatever. Huang Rong marvelled inwardly and thought, This monk’s skill at sealing his acupoints is truly something. If anyone tickled me like this, I’d have been helpless with laughter long ago. She pressed harder with both hands.

Zhou Botong quietly drew on his neili²⁷ to resist the force of her fingers. But the Laughing Waist acupoint lies at the lower end of the ribs, where the flesh is soft and force is hardest to bring to bear. He could have straightened his waist and struck back, turning her force aside with her own, but he was afraid that would mean moving and losing the bet. The pressure of her fingers grew stronger and stronger, and he could only endure it with every ounce of his strength. In the end he could hold out no longer. The muscles beneath his ribs clenched and released, flinging her fingers off, and he leapt to his feet, roaring with laughter. “Fat monk, you’re really something, Old Wild Child bows to you!”

Seeing him concede, Huang Rong bitterly regretted it, thinking, Had I known, I’d have cheated a little and pressed harder on the fat monk. She straightened up and said to Venerable Lingzhi, “You’ve won, so your auntie won’t take your life. Off with you, off!” Venerable Lingzhi paid no attention and went on sitting without a flicker of movement. Huang Rong gave his shoulder a push. “Who wants to look at that stupid face of yours?” she snapped. “Are you asking to die?” Light as the push was, his great fat body went over at once and lay sprawled on the ground, hands still clasped, face turned up to the sky, legs still folded and crossed in empty air, for all the world like a Buddha of moulded clay or carved wood.

This gave Zhou Botong, Guo Jing and Huang Rong a start. Huang Rong thought, Did he force his own acupoints shut beyond what his skill could manage, and seal himself to death? She reached out to feel for his breath. He was breathing perfectly well. Then a thought struck her, and she did not know whether to be angry or amused. “Old Wild Child,” she said to Zhou Botong, “you’ve been well and truly tricked and you don’t even know it. What a dunce!” Zhou Botong glared at her round-eyed. “What?” he said huffily. Huang Rong laughed. “Unseal his acupoints first, and then we’ll talk.”

Zhou Botong was taken aback. He bent over Venerable Lingzhi, felt him here and there and gave him a few pats, and found that all eight major acupoints about his body had been sealed. He sprang up and bellowed, “It doesn’t count, it doesn’t count!” “What doesn’t count?” said Huang Rong. “His accomplices sat him down nicely and then sealed his acupoints,” said Zhou Botong, “so of course the fat monk couldn’t move a hair. We could keep this up for another three days and three nights and he’d never lose.” He turned to Venerable Lingzhi, who lay hunched on the ground, and shouted, “Come on, come on, come on, let’s have another go.”

Seeing Zhou Botong in fine fettle and unhurt, Guo Jing, whose thoughts were all with his shifu, stopped listening to his nonsense and crawled straight into the cave to see Ke Zhen’e.

Zhou Botong stooped and unsealed Venerable Lingzhi’s acupoints, saying over and over, “Come on, again, again!” Huang Rong said coldly, “And my shifu? Where have you left him?” Zhou Botong froze. “Oh no!” he cried, and he turned and dashed for the cave, so fast that he all but crashed into Guo Jing, who was coming out of it.

Guo Jing helped Ke Zhen’e out of the cave. Seeing his shifu’s head bound in white cloth and his body dressed all in white, he stood dumbfounded. “Shifu,” he asked, “has there been a death in the family? Where are Second Shifu and the others?” Ke Zhen’e lifted his face to the sky and made no answer, and two streams of tears ran down his cheeks.

Guo Jing grew more alarmed and bewildered still, and dared not ask again. Then he saw Zhou Botong help someone else out of the cave. The man had a gourd in his left hand and a white chicken in his right, a chicken leg between his teeth, and he was beaming all over his face and nodding away. It was none other than the Nine-Fingered Divine Beggar²⁸ Hong Qigong. Guo Jing and Huang Rong were overjoyed. “Shifu!” they cried together.

Footnotes

1. 来日大难 — Láirì dà nàn. Chapter title. Lit. “Great hardship in the days to come.” The phrase opens a Han-dynasty yuefu song. ↩

2. 郭靖 — Guō Jìng. His name meaning “to pacify”; paired with Yang Kang’s 康 it recalls the Jingkang Shame of 1127. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

3. 黄蓉 — Huáng Róng. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

4. 老顽童 — lǎo wántóng. Literally old wild child. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

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

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

7. 袈裟 — jiāshā. The kasaya, the outer robe worn by Buddhist monks. ↩

8. 灵智上人 — Língzhì Shàngrén. Literally the venerable of spiritual wisdom. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

9. 彭大哥 — Péng Dàgē. Literally big brother Peng. ↩

10. 梁子翁 — Liáng Zǐwēng. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

11. 沙通天 — Shā Tōngtiān. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

12. 彭连虎 — Péng Liánhǔ. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

13. 侯通海 — Hóu Tōnghǎi. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

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

15. 欧阳锋 — Ōuyáng Fēng. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

16. 师父 — shīfù. Teacher responsible for technical instruction and moral guidance. Shī means teacher. Fù means father. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

17. 柯镇恶 — Kē Zhèn’è. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

18. 毒菱 — dú líng. Ke Zhen’e’s hidden weapon, a small iron caltrop coated with poison. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

19. 透骨钉 — Tòugǔ Dīng. A small iron nail flung with neili, named for how deep it bites. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

20. 打狗棒 — Dǎgǒu Bàng. The jade-green bamboo staff carried by the Guild Chief of the Beggars’ Guild as the token of his office. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩ ↩²

21. 洪七公 — Hóng Qīgōng. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

22. 烟雨楼 — Yānyǔ Lóu. Misty Rain Pavilion, on South Lake in Jiaxing. ↩

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

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

25. 笑腰穴 — xiào yāo xué. Literally laughing waist acupoint. An acupoint at the ribs, said to bring on laughter when struck. ↩

26. 内功 — nèigōng. Literally internal cultivation. The practice of developing neili through breathing and meditation. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

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

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