The Return of the Condor Heroes Chapter 15 – Part 9

“The Master of Peach Blossom Island has powers that reach to heaven and pierce the earth,” said Feng the blacksmith. “A disciple of his need only learn one of his arts to lord it over the world. His eldest disciple, Qu Lingfeng, walked like the wind, his martial arts changing past all reckoning, and he was a master of the Iron Eight Trigrams Divine Skill.¹ His second disciple, Chen Xuanfeng, had a body of bronze sinew and iron bone, proof against blade and spear. Have you heard of them?” All the while he talked he kept on hammering, stroke after stroke, and the great clanging lent his words still more force.

At the names Qu Lingfeng and Chen Xuanfeng, Li Mochou was surprised, but Yang Guo and the others were even more taken aback. They would never have dreamed that an old blacksmith in some poor, out-of-the-way village would know of these figures of the Jiangnan jianghu. “Hmph,” said Li Mochou. “According to the talk of the jianghu, Qu Lingfeng who ‘walked like the wind’ was killed by palace guards. And Chen Xuanfeng the Copper Corpse, I hear, was stabbed to death by a small child. What’s so formidable about that? And as for ‘proof against blade and spear’, what a lot of hot air!”

“Mm, mm,” said Feng the blacksmith. “The third disciple of the Master of Peach Blossom Island was called Mei Chaofeng. She was a woman, but her finger skills were formidable and her whip work superb.” Li Mochou gave a dry laugh. “Oh yes, that woman’s finger skills were so very formidable that first the Seven Freaks of Jiangnan put her eyes out, and then Ouyang Feng the Western Venom shattered her heart and lungs.”

Feng the blacksmith was silent for a long while. “Did that happen?” he said sadly. “I didn’t know. The fourth disciple of the Master of Peach Blossom Island, Lu Chengfeng, had wonderful qinggong, and his Sky-Splitting Palm² was fierce beyond compare.” “There was a man whose legs were broken so that he couldn’t walk,” said Li Mochou. “That was this Lu Chengfeng with his wonderful qinggong. Qinggong with no legs, ha ha, all he could do was ride the wind! And his Sky-Splitting Palm, fierce beyond compare: every palm he struck split nothing but air. That’s the Sky-Splitting Palm of Peach Blossom Island for you.”

Feng the blacksmith lowered his head. There were two hisses as two drops of water fell on the red-hot iron and vanished in two wisps of steam. Lu Wushuang was sitting nearest him and saw clearly that they were tears from his eyes, and she wondered at it. He raised his hammer higher, and it came down louder than before.

After a while Feng the blacksmith spoke again. “Lu Chengfeng was not only superb in martial arts, he was skilled in the strange arts of qimen dunjia too. If you’d come up against him, you’d certainly have come off the worse.” Li Mochou sneered. “What good is qimen dunjia? He built himself Returning Cloud Manor on the shore of Lake Tai, and the brave men of the jianghu said it held endless mysteries, but somebody put a torch to it and burned it to bare ground, and he hasn’t been heard of since. Most likely he was burned to death in that very fire.”

“The only daughter of the Master of Peach Blossom Island, the apple of his eye, is chief of the Beggars’ Guild,” said Feng the blacksmith. “Guild Chief Huang’s brilliant schemes have no equal, and her might shakes all under heaven. She need only lift a hand to send you turning ten somersaults.” “Hmph, little Huang Rong has no real skill of her own,” said Li Mochou. “She only puts on a show on the strength of her husband, Guo Jing. And she’s chief of the Beggars’ Guild only because her shifu, Hong Qigong the Northern Beggar, is behind her.”

Feng the blacksmith raised his head. “You’re talking nonsense, Daoist nun,” he said sternly. “Every one of the disciples of the Master of Peach Blossom Island is a superb martial artist, every one of them ten times better than you. Do you think a country fellow like me knows nothing of the world?” Li Mochou sneered. “Ask these three children and you’ll find out the truth.”

Feng the blacksmith turned to look at Cheng Ying, a question in his eyes. Cheng Ying rose. “Misfortune has fallen on my school,” she said sadly, “and its talent has withered away. I joined it only lately, and my skill is poor, and I can’t win any credit for my shifu. I’m truly ashamed. Sir, are you an old acquaintance of my shifu?” Feng the blacksmith did not answer. He looked her up and down. “So the Master of Peach Blossom Island took on another disciple in his old age?”

Cheng Ying looked at the old smith’s crippled left leg, and a sudden thought stirred in her. “In his old age my shifu was lonely,” she said, “and he told me to attend on him. Someone as young and ill-taught as I am dare not truly call herself a disciple of Peach Blossom Island. I’m only a little maid who serves Old Master Huang his tea. Besides, to this day I’ve never had the good fortune to set foot on Peach Blossom Island.” By saying this she was owning herself a disciple of Peach Blossom Island all the same.

Feng the blacksmith nodded, and his gaze was very soft, with something close to kinship in it. He lowered his head and struck the iron a few times, as though lost in thought. Cheng Ying saw his hammer describe a half-circle in the air and land on the anvil with a sideways drag, a movement very like the Peach Blossom Falling Petals Palm³ of their own school, and she grew a good deal more certain. “When my shifu was at leisure he would talk with me,” she said. “He said that when he drove his disciples from the island long ago, Chen and Mei had brought it on themselves, and there was no more to be said about them. But the four, Qu, Lu, Wu and Feng, had suffered for nothing. Above all Feng Mofeng,⁴ Feng shixiong, who was the youngest and always respectful and obedient to his shifu, and whose life had been so pitiful. When Shifu thinks of him, it often weighs on his heart, and he weeps alone, full of deep regret. He says he wronged him badly, and it’s a pity he has never had the chance to make amends.”

In truth Huang Yaoshi was a contrary man, and though he did think such things, he would never have said them aloud. But Cheng Ying was gentle and sweet and quick to understand, and when her shifu was lonely and talked with her, he would let slip a hint now and then, and she had half guessed the rest. What she said now was not truly a report of her shifu’s words, but it did not go against his real meaning.

From their exchange and their faces Li Mochou had already guessed eight or nine parts of it. She saw Feng the blacksmith heave a long sigh, his tears falling like rain onto the red-hot iron, hissing and turning to white mist, and in spite of herself she felt a pang of pity. But the next moment her heart hardened again, and she thought, So they’ve gained another helper. What use is a crippled old blacksmith? She sneered. “Feng Mofeng, congratulations on meeting your shimei.”

The old blacksmith was indeed Huang Yaoshi’s youngest disciple, Feng Mofeng. Years before, when Chen Xuanfeng and Mei Chaofeng had stolen the Nine Yin Manual and fled, Huang Yaoshi had turned his fury on the disciples who remained, broken their legs and driven them from Peach Blossom Island. Qu Lingfeng had been driven out first. Lu Chengfeng and Wu Gangfeng both had both legs broken. When he came to Feng Mofeng, seeing how young he was and how slight his martial skill, he had suddenly taken pity on him and broken only his left leg. Heartbroken, Feng Mofeng had come far away to the country between the Xiang and the Han, and made his living as a blacksmith in these parts, with no word to or from the jianghu. He had lived here more than thirty years, always obscure and unknown, and never thought to hear news of his school again. It was Huang Yaoshi who had saved his life, snatching him from the hands of a local bully, and his shifu had raised him from childhood. His debt was deep indeed, and however Huang Yaoshi had treated him, he bore him no grudge. Now, hearing Cheng Ying’s words, a hundred feelings rose in him at once, and grief welled up from his heart. “Little shimei,” he said, “is our shifu in good health?” “He is,” said Cheng Ying. “Shifu’s kindness to me was so great,” said Feng Mofeng slowly, “that I couldn’t repay it if I were ground to powder. If Shifu has said such things, then he doesn’t blame me. There’s no need to make amends. Now I’ve heard this, I can die in peace.”

Footnotes

1. 铁八卦神功 – Tiě Bāguà Shéngōng. Qu Lingfeng’s signature martial art. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

2. 劈空掌 – Pīkōng Zhǎng. Palm technique that projects neili through the air. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

3. 桃花落英掌 – Táohuā Luòyīng Zhǎng. Huang Yaoshi’s signature palm technique. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

4. 冯默风 – Féng Mòfēng. Huang Yaoshi’s sixth and youngest disciple. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩