The Legend of the Condor Heroes Chapter 5 – Part 6

The Daoist continued, “Your seven kind shifus once made a wager with someone. If I were to teach you martial arts, your shifus would certainly object once they learned of it. They are brave men who set great store by good faith. How could they take unfair advantage of the other side in a wager?” Guo Jing asked, “What wager?” The Daoist replied, “So you do not know. Well, since your six shifus have not yet told you, there is no need for you to ask now. Within two years, they will surely explain everything in detail. Let’s do this. You have been sincere, and it seems we two are fated to know each other, so I shall teach you certain methods of breathing, sitting, walking, and sleeping.”

Guo Jing was greatly puzzled. He thought, I already know how to breathe, sit, walk, and sleep. Why would I need you to teach me? He harboured his doubts privately but did not ask aloud.

The Daoist said, “Clear the snow from that large rock and lie down upon it.” Guo Jing found this still stranger, but did as he was told, brushing away the snow and lying down on the boulder.

The Daoist said, “If you sleep like that, what would you need me to teach you for? Remember these four lines well: when thoughts are still, emotions fade; when the body is empty, qi flows; when the mind dies, the spirit lives; when yang flourishes, yin diminishes.”

Guo Jing repeated the words several times and committed them to memory, though he had no idea what they meant.

The Daoist said, “Before sleeping, the mind must be clear and limpid, without a single thought. Then gather yourself and lie on your side, let your nasal breathing grow long and continuous, so that the soul is not stirred within and the spirit does not wander abroad.” He then imparted the methods of breathing and circulating neili,¹ together with the art of sitting in stillness and gathering in stray thoughts.

Guo Jing tried as instructed. At first his mind teemed with restless notions that refused to settle, but following the Daoist’s method of slow exhalation and deep inhalation, after a long, long while he gradually felt his heart grow calm. A warmth began to rise from his dantian,² and the bone-piercing wind atop the cliff no longer seemed so hard to endure. He lay thus in stillness for roughly a shichen.³ Then his arms and legs suddenly felt sore and numb. The Daoist, who had been sitting opposite in meditation, opened his eyes and said, “Now you may sleep.”

Guo Jing slept as instructed. When he woke, the eastern sky was already lightening. The Daoist lowered him by a long rope and told him to return that night, charging him repeatedly not to mention this to anyone.

That evening Guo Jing went again, and again the Daoist hauled him up by the rope. Guo Jing shared a yurt with his mother. When he trained martial arts with his six shifus, he sometimes stayed out all night, and his mother never asked after him. Following the Daoist’s injunction, he said nothing of his nightly climbs to his six shifus. They did not know, and so did not ask.

Thus he went each night and returned each dawn. Night after night Guo Jing sat atop the cliff, practising his qi cultivation. Strange to say, the Daoist never taught him so much as a single move of martial arts, yet when he trained during the day, he found himself growing lighter and nimbler on his feet. After half a year, where his strength had once fallen short, the knack of the force now came to him naturally the moment he moved. Techniques he had once strained to the limit of speed now came swift and true. The Six Eccentrics of Jiangnan assumed he had simply grown up, that after so much hard practice his mind had at last opened, and every one of them was delighted.

Each night as he climbed, the Daoist often climbed beside him, showing him how to circulate his neili and apply his strength. When Guo Jing could climb no further, only then would the Daoist scale the cliff and haul him up by rope. As the days passed, not only did he climb faster, but higher. Places once beyond his reach he could now leap to, needing the rope only at the hardest stretches.

Another year passed, and the contest was only months away. Day after day the Six Eccentrics’ talk never strayed far from the Jiaxing contest, which was bound to stir every man of valour under heaven. Seeing Guo Jing’s martial arts advance by leaps and bounds, the six felt confident of victory. The thought of soon going home to Jiangnan filled them with joy beyond measure. Yet of the reason for the contest, they said not a word to Guo Jing.

One morning Nan Xiren said, “Jing-er, these past months you have trained only with weapons. Your fistwork may have grown rusty. Today we’ll do more palm work.” Guo Jing nodded his assent.

They walked to their usual training ground. Nan Xiren stepped slowly into the ring and was about to spar with Guo Jing when a great cloud of dust rose ahead, with shouting and neighing, and a large herd of horses came galloping towards them. The Mongol herdsmen swung their whips to restrain them, and only after some effort managed to calm the herd.

The horses had barely settled when from the west a small red horse, its coat as red as blood, charged wildly into the herd, kicking and biting in all directions. The herd was thrown into chaos once more, while the red horse fled north like the wind and vanished from sight. Moments later a flash of red showed in the distance, and in the twinkling of an eye the red horse had charged into the herd again and run riot. The herdsmen, furious, swung their lasso loops and tried to surround it. But the red horse was peerlessly swift. How could they lasso it? In an instant it was far away again, standing several hundred feet off, shaking its mane and whinnying, as though immensely pleased with its own mischief. The herdsmen were as exasperated as they were amused, and could do nothing with it. When the red horse charged in for a third time, three herdsmen nocked arrows and fired. The horse was uncannily quick. As the arrows drew near, it wheeled and darted aside with a speed that even a master of martial arts might not have matched.

The Five Eccentrics and Guo Jing watched, spellbound. Han Baoju loved horses as though they were his life, and in all his days had never seen so magnificent a beast. His own Wind-Chasing Yellow was already a rare marvel in the world. Fast horses were plentiful in Mongolia, yet few could match it. But beside this little red horse it plainly fell far short. He ran to the herdsmen and asked after the red horse’s origin. One herdsman said, “That wild foal came from somewhere deep in the mountains, we don’t know where. A few days back we thought it beautiful and tried to lasso it, but not only did we fail, we annoyed it so badly it’s been coming to cause trouble every day since.” An old herdsman spoke gravely, “That is no horse.” Han Baoju asked in surprise, “Then what is it?” The old herdsman said, “It is a dragon from heaven, transformed. You must not provoke it.” Another herdsman laughed. “Who says dragons can turn into horses? Nonsense.” The old herdsman said, “What do you young ones know? I have herded horses for decades, and never seen a beast this fierce…” Before he could finish, the red horse had charged into the herd again.

The horsemanship of Han Baoju, the Divine Horse King, could claim to be unmatched within the four seas. Even the Mongol herdsmen, who lived their lives on horseback, admitted he surpassed them. Now, seeing the red horse back at its mischief, he drew on his knowledge of horses, judged the ground the red horse must cross on its way out, and cut across at a slant to head it off. As the red horse came racing up, he leapt, and it ran right beneath him, the timing and the place exact to a hair. Han Baoju settled downward, meaning to land squarely upon the horse’s back. He had tamed countless fierce and vicious horses in his lifetime. Once astride, no horse under heaven could throw him. But at that very instant, the red horse surged forward with sudden force, shooting forward like an arrow, and this time he missed his seat. Han Baoju was furious and gave chase on foot. But his legs were short. How could he catch it?

Suddenly a figure leapt out from the side, and its left hand had already seized the red horse’s mane. Startled, the horse ran faster still. The figure was dragged flying through the air, yet his fingers held fast to the mane and would not let go.

The herdsmen raised a great shout.

The Six Eccentrics of Jiangnan saw that the man clinging to the mane was Guo Jing, and were struck equal parts with astonishment and delight. Zhu Cong said, “Where did he learn such an exquisite qinggong?”⁴ Han Xiaoying said, “Jing-er’s neili has come on so much this past year and more. Could his dead father really be watching over him in secret? Or could it be Fifth Brother…”

How could they know that over the past two years, the three-topknot Daoist had taught him the arts of breathing and qi circulation each night atop the high cliff? Though he had not been taught a single martial technique, what he received was a supreme neigong.⁵ Each night Guo Jing climbed the cliff and descended it, and was in truth practising an extremely profound art of lightness, the Golden Wild Goose Skill.⁶ He himself remained ignorant of the fact. The Daoist had commanded him to climb each night, and so each night he obeyed and climbed and slept. His neigong improved day by day, and his progress in the Golden Wild Goose Skill showed itself only in the qinggong that Zhu Cong, Quan Jinfa and Han Xiaoying had taught him. He did not know it himself, and the Six Eccentrics only felt an unlooked-for gladness now and then, never suspecting the truth. At this moment, Guo Jing saw the red horse surge past. Third Shifu had failed to catch it. He leapt into the air and seized the mane.

The Five Eccentrics saw Guo Jing in mid-air, turning and twisting with perfect ease. His movement was so light, so nimble, that it was surely not the qinggong of Zhu Cong, Quan Jinfa, or Han Xiaoying. He must have had another teacher. The five exchanged bewildered glances, astonished beyond measure. Ke Zhen’e, who could not see, could not tell why the others were crying out in surprise.

Guo Jing turned a sudden backward somersault in mid-air, landed on the horse’s back and came galloping back. The little red horse now reared up, forelegs pawing the air, now lashed out with its hind legs, as though mad or bewitched, but Guo Jing clamped his legs tight and was never once thrown from its back.

Han Baoju called out instructions from the side, teaching him the methods of horse-taming. The red horse ran wild and leapt and bucked, racing in every direction across the grassland for over a shichen, yet seemed to grow only more spirited.

The herdsmen watched in alarm. The old herdsman knelt and murmured prayers, begging Heaven not to visit disaster upon them for offending the dragon-horse, and shouted loudly for Guo Jing to dismount at once. But Guo Jing, wholly absorbed in clinging to the horse, was bound to its back as though by rope. As the horse rose and fell, he rose and fell with it, and never once was thrown.

Han Xiaoying called, “Jing-er, come down and let Third Shifu take over.” Han Baoju shouted, “No! Change riders and all the work is lost.” He knew that every fine horse had a fierce temper, but if a man subdued it, it would be loyal and devoted to its master for life. If many combined to break it, however, it would sooner die than yield.

Guo Jing too was stubborn by nature. The little red horse had worn him out and he was drenched in sweat, but he suddenly thrust his right arm beneath the horse’s neck, wrapped both arms around it, and summoned his strength. As his neili reached his arms, he squeezed tighter and tighter. The red horse bucked and leapt but could not break free, until at last, unable to breathe and choking past endurance, it understood that it had met its true master, and suddenly stood still.

Han Baoju cried, “Done, done!” Guo Jing, fearing the horse would flee, dared not yet dismount. Han Baoju said, “Come down now. This horse has chosen you. You could not drive it away if you tried.” Guo Jing did as he said and leapt down.

The red horse extended its tongue and licked the back of his hand, its manner most affectionate. The onlookers could not help but laugh. A herdsman stepped close to inspect it, and the red horse suddenly lashed out with its hind hooves and sent him tumbling. Guo Jing led the horse to the trough and groomed it carefully.

He had worn himself out for half the day, so the Six Eccentrics did not make him train any more, though each of them was full of doubts and questions.

Footnotes

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

2. 丹田 — dāntián. Literally cinnabar field. The primary energy centre below the navel in internal cultivation. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

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

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

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

6. 金雁功 — Jīnyàn Gōng. Quanzhen qinggong that allows climbing up and down cliffs. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩