The Legend of the Condor Heroes Chapter 34 – Part 2
Translation by Jenxi Seow
Though Guo Jing had set out before her, he had travelled no more than a few dozen paces before the paths twisted left and right and he lost his bearings. When Huang Rong caught up, he fell in behind her at once. The two crossed the bamboo grove and the lotus pond in silence.
They came to the elegant house where Huang Yaoshi lived. It had been smashed until it sagged and leaned every which way, and broken beams and snapped pillars lay all over the ground.
Huang Rong cried out, “Papa, Papa!” and ran into the house. Inside, too, the tables had been overturned and the stools upended, and books, brushes and inkstones lay scattered all over the floor. The scrolls hanging on the walls had been half torn away. But of Huang Yaoshi himself there was not a sign.
Huang Rong clutched the overturned writing desk with both hands, swaying as though she might fall. Only after a long while did she collect herself and think, This isn’t right. It can’t be like this… She hurried to the quarters of the mute servants and searched them, but there was no one there at all. The kitchen stove was cold, its ashes dead. On the board table stood a number of empty bowls, some still holding cold leftovers, as if people had eaten and left the rest. Unwashed chopsticks and spoons lay everywhere. Even if the servants were not dead, they had been gone a long while. It seemed there was no one left on the island but herself and Guo Jing.
She walked slowly back to the house. Guo Jing still stood rigid in the middle of the room, his eyes fixed and staring, his face wooden. Huang Rong said in a trembling voice, “Jing gege, cry, quickly. Have a good cry first, and the rest can wait!” She knew that he and his six shifus had been as close as father and sons, and that the anguish in his heart must now be past bearing. His neigong1 had reached a high level, and a man so far advanced who was struck by sudden, crushing grief and gave it no vent was bound to do himself grave injury.
But Guo Jing seemed to hear nothing, feel nothing. He only stared at her dully.
Huang Rong wanted to urge him again, but she herself could bear no more. She got out only the words “Jing gege” before her legs gave way, and she could say nothing further.
Hoping to find more clues to what had happened, Huang Rong pulled open the drawers of the writing desk and went through them one by one. In the top right-hand drawer lay a sheet of white paper, spread flat and covered in writing. Guo Jing snatched it from her and unfolded it. It read:
“Your humble servants of Jiangnan, Ke Zhen’e, Zhu Cong, Han Baoju, Nan Xiren, Quan Jinfa and Han Xiaoying, respectfully present this letter to Senior Island Master Huang of Peach Blossom Island:
“We have just heard it rumoured that the Six Zis of Quanzhen, misled by what others have told them, are about to move against Peach Blossom Island. We know in our hearts that there has been some misunderstanding, and regret only that we are too humble and our words too light to reconcile the two houses. You, Senior, are a master of this age, whose only rival for supremacy was Wang Chongyang the Perfected One. How could you stoop to measure yourself against juniors in a single day’s contest? Long ago Lin Xiangru turned his carriage aside to avoid Lian Po, and the ages have honoured him for it. The breast of a man of valour is as wide as the sea. A squabble between chickens and bugs is not beyond him, but he will not deign to join it. We foresee the day when the disciples of Quanzhen come bearing thorns to the steps of Peach Blossom Island to beg your pardon, and all the heroes of the land admire your lofty righteousness, Senior. Would that not be fine indeed?”
Guo Jing recognised his Second Shifu’s handwriting. His hands trembled as he held the paper. He thought, The Seven Zis of Quanzhen fought Huang Yaoshi at Niu Family Village, and Ouyang Feng, plotting in secret, killed Changzhenzi Tan Chuduan. Then, with a few words, Ouyang Feng shifted the blame onto Huang Yaoshi, and Old Heretic Huang, who thinks no one worth his notice, did not deign to argue. Small wonder the Quanzhen Order hates him to the bone. My six shifus must have learned that Quanzhen was coming in force to seek revenge, and feared both sides would be ruined. So they wrote this letter urging Huang Yaoshi to withdraw for the time being, and to find some way of making the truth known later. My six shifus acted from the kindest of motives. How could that old villain Huang Yaoshi lift a hand against them?
Then another thought struck him, If my six shifus sent this letter, why did they come to Peach Blossom Island at all? They must have learned that the Six Zis of Quanzhen had set out for the island, and feared that Huang Yaoshi might not be willing to withdraw and disaster would follow. So, meaning only to make peace, they hurried here to stop the two sides fighting. And then he thought, Old Heretic Huang, oh, Old Heretic Huang, you must have taken my six shifus for reinforcements invited by the Quanzhen Order, and without troubling to find out the rights of it, you struck them down without mercy.
Huang Rong took the letter and read it carefully. She thought, His six shifus came to Peach Blossom Island with nothing but good intentions. It is a pity that the Swift-Handed Scholar2 could not see his good deed through. He had played the thief all his life. When he saw Mother’s treasures and rarities, temptation overcame him, and in the end he ran foul of the one thing Father would never forgive… In a daze she put the letter back in the drawer.
The two stood silent for a long while. At last Guo Jing murmured, “I won’t kill Rong-er. I won’t kill Rong-er!”
Huang Rong felt another pang. She said, “Your shifus are dead. Have a good cry.”
Guo Jing muttered to himself, “I won’t cry. I won’t cry.”
After those words, silence fell between them again. From far away came the faint sound of the surf. In that instant a thousand thoughts went through Huang Rong’s mind. Everything she had lived through on this island, from childhood to her fifteenth year, flashed vividly before her, and then flashed back again.
Guo Jing muttered to himself again, “I must bury my shifus first. Is that right? I must bury my shifus first?”
Huang Rong said, “That’s right. Bury your shifus first.”
She led the way back to her mother’s tomb. Guo Jing followed without a word. Huang Rong was reaching out to push the tombstone aside when Guo Jing darted forward and lashed his right leg into the middle of the stone.
The tombstone was carved from the hardest granite. Though he put every ounce of his strength into the kick, he only knocked it slightly askew, and the outer edge of his right foot was torn and streaming blood. Yet he seemed to feel no pain. He beat and shoved at the stone furiously with both palms, then pulled the half of Quan Jinfa’s steelyard3 from his belt and fell on the stone, battering at it wildly. Sparks flew from the stone, chips and dust scattering. With a sudden crack the steelyard snapped again. Guo Jing drove both palms forward with all his might. The tombstone broke in two, revealing an iron rod set within it. He seized the rod and wrenched at it with all his strength. Before the rod could snap, there was a creak, and the tomb door swung open.
Guo Jing froze. Then he shouted, “Apart from Huang Yaoshi, who else could know this mechanism? Who else could have lured my revered shifus into this devil’s tomb? Who else, if not him? Who?”
He threw back his head with a great shout and plunged into the tomb.
The broken stone was scored with cracks and smeared with bloody palm prints. Seeing how bitterly he hated even her mother’s grave, Huang Rong made up her mind. She thought, If he smashes Mother’s jade coffin to vent his rage, I’ll dash my head against it and die first. She was about to step inside when Guo Jing emerged carrying Quan Jinfa’s body in his arms.
He set the body down, then went back in and brought out the remains of Zhu Cong, Han Baoju, and Han Xiaoying one by one, carrying each with the utmost reverence. Huang Rong stole a glance at him and saw the devout, adoring look on his face, and her heart went cold. She thought, He loves his shifus far more than he loves me. I must go and find Papa. I must find Papa!
Guo Jing carried the four bodies into the grove, several hundred paces from the tomb, and only then bent to dig. He dug for a while with Han Xiaoying’s long jian, faster and faster, until with a crack the jian snapped off at the hilt. A rush of heat surged up from his chest. He opened his mouth and vomited two great mouthfuls of blood, then flung himself down and clawed at the earth with bare hands, hurling it away handful after handful like a madman.
Huang Rong went to the hut of the mute servant who tended the flowers and fetched two shovels. She tossed one to him and took up the other to help. Guo Jing snatched the shovel from her without a word, snapped it in two with a twist, flung it down, and went on digging with the other.
By now Huang Rong was past weeping. She only sat on the ground and watched. Guo Jing threw his whole body into the work, and in no longer than it takes to eat a meal he had dug two pits, one large and one small.
He lowered Han Xiaoying’s body into the smaller pit. He knelt and kowtowed several times, then stared blankly at her face for a long while before he scooped earth over her. Then he went to lift Zhu Cong’s body.
Just as he was about to place it in the larger pit, a thought came to him, Shall Huang Yaoshi’s filthy jewels go into the ground with my Second Shifu? Cradling the body in his left arm, he reached into the dead man’s robes with his right and drew out the pearls, jade and ornaments one by one, tossing each to the ground without a glance.
Huang Rong watched as Guo Jing set Zhu Cong’s body down and pried open his left fist, which had been clenched tight. He drew out an object and held it in his palm. Huang Rong peered closer: it was a woman’s shoe, carved from green jade, no more than an inch or so in length, translucent and lustrous green. Though it was only a trinket, it was carved in the exact likeness of a real shoe, so finely and delicately worked that it was a genuine treasure. Yet she had never seen it among her mother’s possessions in the tomb, and could not guess where Zhu Cong had obtained it.
Guo Jing turned it over and examined it. On the sole was engraved the character zhao, meaning “summon”, and inside, on the insole, the character bi, meaning “compare”. Beyond that there was nothing unusual about it. He loathed these treasures so fiercely that he flung the shoe hard to the ground, where it landed with a thud.
He stood stock-still for a time, then slowly carried the bodies of Zhu Cong, Han Baoju, and Quan Jinfa into the pit. When he came to cover them with earth, he looked at his three shifus’ faces and could not bring himself to do it.
He cried out, “Second Shifu, Third Shifu, Sixth Shifu, you… you’re dead!” His voice was gentle, with the same respectful tone he had always used in speaking to his shifus.
After a long while he caught sight, from the corner of his eye, of the heap of jewels at the edge of the pit, and fury rose in him. He scooped the lot up in both hands and ran towards the tomb.
Huang Rong feared he would enter the tomb and defile her mother’s jade coffin. She hurried after him, spread her arms wide, and barred the entrance.
“What do you mean to do?” she demanded sternly.
Guo Jing did not answer. With his left arm he pushed her gently aside. With his right he flung the jewels inward. They struck stone with a cascade of clinks that rang on and on.
Huang Rong saw the jade shoe land at her feet. She picked it up and held it out to him. “This wasn’t my mother’s.”
Guo Jing stared at her blankly and gave no sign of hearing. Huang Rong slipped it inside her robe. Guo Jing turned back to the pit and shovelled earth over the three bodies until they were buried.
They had been busy for half the day, and the sky was darkening. Huang Rong saw that he still had not wept, and her worry deepened. She thought, If I leave him on his own, perhaps he can cry. She went back to the cottage, found some salted fish and ham, and cooked a hasty meal. She carried it back in a basket.
He was still standing motionless beside his shifus’ graves.
She had spent close on half a shichen4 over the meal, yet he had not only not moved from the spot, he had not so much as changed his posture. Looking at him standing there in the dark like a figure of stone, Huang Rong was seized with fear.
She called, “Jing gege, what’s wrong?”
Guo Jing did not respond.
Huang Rong tried again. “Come and eat. You’ve gone hungry all day!”
Guo Jing said, “I’d sooner starve to death than eat anything from Peach Blossom Island.”
Huang Rong was somewhat reassured to hear him answer. She knew his stubborn nature: this time his heart was broken past mending, and nothing on this island would pass his lips. She set the basket down slowly and sank down to sit on the ground.
One standing, one sitting. Time slipped by in silence. Half a moon rose from the sea and climbed above their heads. The food in the basket grew cold, and so did their hearts.
Then, amid the bleak wind, the cold moon and the faint murmur of the surf, a few cries came suddenly from far away, unearthly and shrill, like the howl of a wolf or the roar of a tiger, and yet like a human voice crying out.
The wind carried the sound, then a gust swept past and the howling faded. Huang Rong listened intently. The voice seemed to struggle in pain, but whether it was beast or person she could not tell. She fixed the direction in her mind and set off at a run. She had meant to call Guo Jing to come along, but then she thought, This is most likely nothing good. If he sees it, it will only add to his grief. In such a plight, walking alone in the dark truly frightened her, but fortunately every tree and blade of grass on Peach Blossom Island was familiar to her. Afraid as she was, she steeled herself and pressed on.
She had gone a dozen paces when a rush of air went past her, and Guo Jing was ahead of her. He did not know the paths and at once lost his way. She saw him chopping with his palms and kicking furiously at the trees that barred his path, as though he had lost his wits again.
“Follow me,” Huang Rong called.
Guo Jing shouted, “Fourth Shifu, Fourth Shifu!” He had recognised the cry as the voice of his Fourth Shifu, Nan Xiren.
Huang Rong moved slowly along the winding path. The half-moon had just risen and the night was hazy. She studied the ground and saw that some trees beside the path had been struck down by iron, and some of the flowers and grasses trampled underfoot. Plainly someone had come this way searching for a path, and turned back on finding it led nowhere.
After a hundred feet or more she saw a dark object planted upright in the middle of the path. It was Nan Xiren’s iron carrying pole.5
Guo Jing rushed forward, plucked the pole from the ground, and kept it in his hand.
Footnotes
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内功 — nèigōng. Literally internal cultivation. The practice of developing neili through breathing and meditation. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩
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妙手书生 — Miàoshǒu Shūshēng. Literally wondrous-handed scholar. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩
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秤杆 — chènggān. The iron beam of a merchant’s steelyard, Quan Jinfa’s weapon. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩
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时辰 — shíchén. Traditional Chinese unit of time equal to two hours; the day was divided into twelve shichen. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩
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铁扁担 — tiě biǎndan. Nan Xiren’s weapon, the woodcutter’s carrying pole made of iron. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩