The Return of the Condor Heroes Chapter 11 – Part 4

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One day, he arrived at a stretch of wilderness in southern Henan. As far as the eye could see, there was nothing but withered trees and dead grass. The northern wind blew with a biting chill, whipping the long grass into restless waves. Suddenly, from the west, came the faint rumble of hoofbeats, and dust rose on the horizon. Before long, several dozen wild horses came galloping eastward, passing about a li¹ away. Watching the wild horses race freely across the desolate plain, Yang Guo could not help but feel his own spirit lift. He gazed out across the flatland as the galloping horses receded into the distance, feeling that heaven and earth were wide indeed, without constraint or impediment. Just as this sense of freedom filled him, he suddenly heard a horse’s mournful whinny behind him.

He turned. A scrawny yellow horse, pulling a cartload of firewood, was trudging slowly along the main road. It seemed the horse, seeing its own kind revelling in the freedom of the mountain wilderness while it toiled in bitter servitude, had let out a cry of lament. The horse was so thin that the bones of its chest jutted out sharply. Its four long legs had lost all their muscle, resembling withered sticks. Its coat was patchy and mangy, and its body was caked with mud and crisscrossed with countless bloody whip scars. A rough fellow sat on the cart, and finding the horse too slow, he kept lashing it with his whip.

Yang Guo had suffered much bullying in his life. Seeing this emaciated horse in such misery, every crack of the whip felt as though it struck his own body. A pain tightened in his chest, and tears nearly welled up in his eyes. He planted his hands on his hips and stood in the middle of the road, shouting angrily, “Hey, you! Why are you whipping that horse?” The rough fellow saw a ragged, beggar-like youth blocking his way. He raised his horsewhip and barked, “Get out of the way! Do you not value your life?” As he spoke, the whip came down again, landing hard on the horse’s back. Yang Guo flew into a rage. “If you hit that horse again,” he shouted, “I will kill you.” The rough fellow burst out laughing and brought his whip cracking down toward Yang Guo’s head.

Yang Guo snatched the whip, reversed it, and with a sharp pa, cracked it in a circle through the air. The whip coiled around the rough fellow’s neck, and Yang Guo yanked him off the cart. He gave the man a thorough thrashing, lashing him from head to face.

The scrawny horse, ugly as it was, seemed to possess remarkable spirit. Seeing its tormentor being beaten, it whinnied with joy and stretched its head over to nuzzle affectionately against Yang Guo’s leg. Yang Guo broke the harness traces, patted the horse’s back, and pointed toward the dust trail left by the distant wild horses. “Go on, now,” he said. “No one will bully you ever again.”

The horse reared up on its forelegs, gave a long neigh, and bolted forward. But the animal was weak and had been starved for too long. The sudden burst of speed was more than it could sustain. After running barely ten-odd zhang, its front legs buckled, and it collapsed to its knees. Yang Guo could not bear to see this. He ran over, slipped his hands under the horse’s belly, and shouted, “Up!” With a heave he lifted it to its feet. Seeing such strength, the rough fellow was so terrified that he abandoned his cart and firewood, scrambled to his feet, and fled without looking back. Only when he had run half a li did he start shouting, “Bandits! Horse thieves! Firewood thieves!”

Yang Guo found this amusing. He pulled up some green grass and fed it to the scrawny horse. Looking at the animal, which had suffered such hardship, he felt a deep kinship, the same fate, the same pity. He stroked the horse’s back and said, “Horse, ah, horse, from now on, you will stay with me.” He led it by the reins at a slow walk into a market town, where he bought some beans and wheat and let the horse eat its fill. The next day, seeing the horse had regained some vigour, he mounted and rode on at a gentle pace.

At first, the mangy horse stumbled along, tripping and lurching constantly. But the further it went, the better it walked. After seven or eight days, with ample feed and renewed energy, its stride became as swift as flight. Yang Guo was indescribably delighted and took extra care in feeding it.

One day, while he was having a simple meal at a small inn, the mangy horse suddenly walked over to the table and stared at a bowl of wine on the neighbouring table, neighing persistently as though it wanted to drink. Curious, Yang Guo called the serving boy over to bring a large bowl of wine, set it on the table, and stroked the horse’s head a few times. The horse drained the entire bowl in one go, then swished its tail and stamped its feet, clearly delighted. Yang Guo found this even more entertaining and ordered more wine. The horse drank more than ten bowls in succession and still wanted more. When Yang Guo asked for yet another round, the serving boy, seeing his tattered clothes, feared he could not pay and claimed they were out of wine.

After the meal, Yang Guo mounted. The mangy horse, tipsy from the wine, stretched out its stride and galloped as though possessed. The trees along the roadside blurred past in reverse, swift beyond measure. But whereas an ordinary fine steed ran both fast and steady, this mangy horse was fast, certainly, but its body pitched wildly up and down, jolting and bucking. Without Yang Guo’s exceptional lightness skill, he would never have been able to ride it. The horse had another peculiarity: whenever it saw any beast of burden on the road ahead, it absolutely had to overtake it. Be it ox, horse, mule, or donkey, it would not rest until it had raced past. When it met a fast horse, it would overtake it as though staking its very life on the outcome, hurtling like the wind and lightning, never stopping until it had won. And its stamina was truly extraordinary, no matter how fast the other horse, it would always triumph. This competitive, defiant temperament seemed born from a lifetime of abuse and humiliation. Yang Guo reflected that this thousand-li steed² had been wasted in the hands of a village brute, trapped in wind and dust, languishing in misery for half its life. Now that it suddenly had the chance to stretch its legs, of course it wanted to gallop and soar.

This unruly temperament was a perfect match for his own. One man, one horse, they became the closest of friends. Yang Guo had been sunk in gloom, but amusing himself with the horse along the road, he was still young at heart, and within a few days he had cheered up. From there he travelled steadily southward until he reached the banks of the Huai River.³ Along the way, memories surfaced of how he had teased Lu Wushuang⁴ and toyed with Li Mochou⁵ and her disciple, he could not help laughing to himself on horseback. But then he would think of Xiaolongnü,⁶ not knowing where she was or when he might see her again, and his heart would twist with a hundred turns of longing.

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One day, around noon, he began encountering beggars along the road. Judging by their bearing, many of them possessed martial arts skills. He mused to himself: Could it be that my ‘wife’⁷ still has unfinished business with the Beggars’ Guild? Or has the Beggars’ Guild gathered in force to settle scores with Li Mochou? This is excitement I cannot afford to miss. He had never had any particular fondness for the Beggars’ Guild, but out of admiration for Hong Qigong, he now felt an involuntary closeness to them. If these beggars are not making trouble for Lu Wushuang, he thought, I will tell them the news of Hong Qigong’s passing. He rode on a while longer. The beggars on the road grew more and more numerous. They all looked at Yang Guo with mild surprise, his clothing and appearance were no different from a beggar’s, but Beggars’ Guild members never rode horses except in truly urgent circumstances. Yang Guo paid them no mind and rode on at a leisurely pace.

By the shen hour,⁸ he suddenly heard the cry of eagles overhead. Two white eagles swooped past and dived down ahead. He heard one beggar say, “Chief Huang has arrived. There will certainly be a gathering tonight.” Another beggar said, “I wonder if Hero Guo is coming.” The first replied, “Those two are like a scale and its weight, a weight and its scale…” Catching sight of Yang Guo reining in his horse to listen, the beggar shot him a glare and fell silent.

Hearing the names Guo Jing and Huang Rong, Yang Guo felt a slight jolt. Then he gave a cold inward laugh. Back then, I lived under your roof eating idle meals, and you looked down on me and toyed with me. I was young and helpless then, and I suffered plenty. Now I make the whole world my home, what do I need from you? Then another thought struck him: Why not pretend to be utterly destitute and throw myself on their mercy? Let us see how they treat me.

He found a secluded spot, tore his hair into a wild mess, punched himself hard in the left eye, and scratched his face several times. His left eye swelled up purple, and several bloody lines appeared on his cheek. His clothes were already in tatters. Now he ripped them even more, rolled around in the mud a few times, and with that mangy, scab-covered horse of his, he was the very picture of a man at the end of his road, barely clinging to life. His disguise complete, he limped back to the main road. He no longer rode the horse but walked among the beggars. He did not hold the reins, yet the ugly horse followed behind him on its own. Some Beggars’ Guild members asked him in jargon whether he was going to the great feast, but Yang Guo did not understand their code. He just stared blankly and gave no answer, mingling with the crowd of beggars, drifting now to the front, now to the back.

The group wound its way along, and as dusk approached, they arrived at a large, dilapidated temple. Two white eagles were perched on a pine tree in front of the temple. The Wu brothers⁹, one holding a platter, the other picking up chunks of meat from the platter and tossing them up to feed the eagles. Yang Guo had seen the two brothers fight Li Mochou alongside Guo Fu¹⁰ a few days earlier. He had been watching at the time too, but his gaze had been fixed on Guo Fu and he had paid the brothers little attention. Now, observing them from the corner of his eye, he saw that Wu Dunru¹¹ had a fierce and spirited bearing, radiating energy in every gesture. Wu Xiuwen¹² was nimble and quick, darting about restlessly without a moment’s stillness. Wu Dunru wore a purple-maroon padded silk robe, and Wu Xiuwen a sapphire-blue Shandong heavy silk robe, both with embroidered brocade hero sashes at their waists. They were indeed heroic youths of outstanding appearance.

Yang Guo stepped forward and bowed with a stammer. “Greet… greetings to the two Brother Wus. It has been… been a long time. I hope you have been well.” The area in front of and behind the temple was now packed with beggars, every one of them in patched and tattered clothes. Though Yang Guo’s face was covered with dust, he did not stand out among the crowd. Wu Dunru returned the salute and looked Yang Guo up and down, but could not recognise him. “Forgive my dull eyes,” he said. “Who might my honoured brother be?” Yang Guo said, “My worthless name is not worth mentioning. This humble one… this humble one wishes to see Chief Huang.”

Wu Dunru found the voice somewhat familiar and was about to question him further when a voice like a silver bell rang out from the temple entrance: “Big Brother Wu, I asked you to buy me a softer riding crop. Did you get it?” Wu Dunru hastily abandoned Yang Guo and hurried over. “I bought it long ago,” he said. “Try it, see if it suits your hand.” He drew a riding crop from his robes.

Yang Guo turned his head. A young woman in a pale green blouse was walking briskly out of the temple. Her brows were gently curved, her small nose slightly upturned, her face like white jade, her complexion like the morning glow, it was Guo Fu. Her attire was not particularly lavish, but around her neck hung a string of bright pearls that gave off a soft lustre, making her look as though she had been carved from powder and polished from jade. Yang Guo took one look at her and could not help feeling ashamed of his own shabbiness. He turned his head away and did not look again. Wu Xiuwen rushed forward as well, both brothers vying to ingratiate themselves.

After speaking with Guo Fu for a while, Wu Dunru remembered Yang Guo. He turned and said, “You are here for the Hero Assembly, I take it?” Yang Guo had no idea what the Hero Assembly was, but he mumbled an assent. Wu Dunru beckoned to a beggar. “Take care of this friend here. Tomorrow, guide him to Dasheng Pass.” With that, he went back to talking with Guo Fu and paid Yang Guo no further attention.

The beggar agreed and came over to attend to him, asking his name. Yang Guo told him truthfully. He was, after all, a nobody, the beggar had naturally never heard his name and thought nothing of it. The beggar introduced himself as Wang the Thirteenth,¹³ a two-bag disciple of the Beggars’ Guild. “Where does Brother Yang come from?” he asked. Yang Guo said, “From Shaanxi.” Wang the Thirteenth said, “Oh! Then Brother Yang is of the Quanzhen Order?” The words “Quanzhen Order” gave Yang Guo an instant headache. He hurriedly shook his head. “No.” Wang the Thirteenth said, “Brother Yang must have his hero invitation with him?” Yang Guo was taken aback. “I am a wanderer on the rivers and lakes,” he said. “How could I be called a hero? I merely met your honoured Chief Huang once before and have come to pay my respects. I was hoping to borrow some travelling money to return home.” Wang the Thirteenth frowned and pondered for a while. “Chief Huang is currently receiving heroes from all under heaven,” he said. “I am afraid she will not have time to see you.”

Yang Guo had deliberately set out to appear as shabby as possible this time. The more others looked down on him, the more satisfied he felt. So he pleaded with even greater pitifulness. The Beggars’ Guild’s members all came from impoverished backgrounds and had always helped those in distress, they would never look down on the poor. Hearing the misery in his voice, Wang the Thirteenth said, “Brother Yang, first eat your fill. Tomorrow we will go to Dasheng Pass. I will report to the elders for you, and they can pass the word to the Chief. Let us see what she decides, all right?” Wang the Thirteenth had initially called him “Brother Yang”, but now, hearing that he was not one of the heroes attending the assembly, and being older than him, he switched to the more familiar “Yang brother”. Yang Guo thanked him profusely. Wang the Thirteenth invited him into the temple and brought out food and drink to serve his guest. The Beggars’ Guild’s Filthy Clothes Faction was currently in the ascendancy, and even during festive celebrations, the clan insisted on mashing chicken, fish, beef, and lamb into a sloppy mess resembling leftovers before eating, to show they never forgot their roots. But for guests, they served proper meals.

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Footnotes

1. 里 – lǐ. Traditional Chinese unit of distance, approximately 500 metres or a third of a mile. ↩

2. Thousand-li steed (千里马). Literally “thousand-li horse.” A term for a horse of exceptional speed and endurance, capable of covering a thousand li in a single day. Term is also used metaphorically for a person of outstanding talent who has not yet been recognised. ↩

3. 淮河 – Huái Hé. Major river in central China, traditionally marking the boundary between north and south. ↩

4. 陆无双 – Lù Wúshuāng. Her name meaning “peerless” or “without equal”. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

5. 李莫愁 – Lǐ Mòchóu. Her name meaning “do not sorrow”. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

6. 小龙女 – Xiǎolóngnǚ. Literally little dragon maiden. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

7. Wife (媳妇儿). Yang Guo’s mocking reference to Lu Wushuang, whom he jokingly called his “wife” during their earlier encounter when he disguised himself to rescue her. ↩

8. Shen hour (申时). Ninth of the twelve shichen, corresponding to 3:00–5:00 PM. ↩

9. Wu brothers (武氏兄弟). Wu Dunru (武敦儒) and Wu Xiuwen (武修文), the sons of Wu Santong (武三通). Disciples of Guo Jing, they are both infatuated with Guo Fu and fiercely competitive with each other for her attention. ↩

10. 郭芙 – Guō Fú. Her name meaning “lotus”. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

11. 武敦儒 – Wǔ Dūnrú. His name meaning “earnest scholar”. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

12. 武修文 – Wǔ Xiūwén. His name meaning “cultivate literature”. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

13. Wang the Thirteenth (王十三). Low-ranking two-bag disciple of the Beggars’ Guild. His name follows the clan’s informal naming convention, where numbers often replace given names among the lower ranks. ↩