The Return of the Condor Heroes Chapter 16 – Part 3

Yang Guo paid them no heed. He tightened his grip slightly, his face taking on a demonic ferocity. Grinding his teeth, he said, “I am Brother Yang’s vengeful ghost. I died so miserably, do you know that?” Shagu said, “I know. After you died, the crows ate your flesh. Ah! Ah! Ah!” She imitated the cawing of crows.

Yang Guo felt as though a knife were twisting in his heart. He had known only that his father had died a violent death, he had never known that even the corpse had gone unburied, pecked at by crows. He shouted, “Who killed me? Speak! Speak!” Shagu’s voice was hoarse. “You went to hit Gugu¹ yourself. Gugu had poison needles on her body, so you died.” Yang Guo roared, “Who is Gugu?” Shagu could barely breathe under his grip, on the verge of fainting. She whispered, “Gugu is Gugu.” Yang Guo said, “What is Gugu’s surname? What is her name?” Shagu said, “I… I don’t know! Let me go!”

Lu Wushuang saw how desperate the situation had become and tried to pull Yang Guo’s arm away. But Yang Guo was like a madman. With a fierce shove using his full strength, Lu Wushuang could not withstand it, she was thrown backward against the wall with a crash, in considerable pain. Cheng Ying, seeing Yang Guo, ordinarily so gentle and carefree, now like a raging tiger, was so frightened her limbs went weak.

Yang Guo thought, If I do not learn the name of my father’s killer today, I will immediately vomit blood and die. He pressed: “Is Gugu surnamed Qu? Is she surnamed Mei?” He guessed that since Shagu’s own surname was Qu, her Gugu was probably also surnamed Qu, perhaps it was Mei Chaofeng. Shagu struggled with all her might. Though she had trained far longer than Yang Guo, her martial skills were inferior, and with her wrist acupoints seized, she could only gasp and cry out in desperation. She said, “Go demand your life from Gugu. Don’t… don’t come after me.” Yang Guo said, “Where is Gugu?” Shagu said, “Grandpa and I came out! She and the man are on the island.”

At these words, an icy chill shot down Yang Guo’s spine. His voice trembling, he asked, “What does Gugu call your grandpa?” Shagu said, “She calls him Daddy. What else would she call him?” Yang Guo’s face turned the colour of earth. Afraid of a mistake, he pressed further: “Gugu’s man is named Guo Jing², isn’t he?” Shagu said, “I don’t know. Gugu just calls him: ‘Jing gege, Jing gege!’” She imitated Huang Rong³’s tone when calling Guo Jing, kicking her legs wildly, then suddenly shrieked like a slaughtered pig: “Help! Help! Ghost… ghost… ghost!”

What doubt could Yang Guo possibly have now? The sorrows of his childhood, his orphaned loneliness, the bullying he had endured, all surged into his heart at once. He thought, If my father had not been murdered, my mother would not have died so young from grief and hardship, and I would never have suffered all these bitter trials. He thought further, On Peach Blossom Island, Guo Jing and his wife were always uneasy around me, somewhat polite, somewhat guarded, never as straightforward with me as they were with the Wu brothers, scolding when they wished, praising when they wished. At the time I only felt it was awkward. I never knew it was because they had killed my father and carried a guilty conscience. They refused to teach me martial arts and sent me to Quanzhen to endure such torment, all for this reason. Shock and fury flooded through him. His limbs went weak. Shagu let out a great cry and leaped up from the bed.

Cheng Ying came to Yang Guo’s side and said softly, “Sister Sha has always been muddled, you know this. Now that she is wounded, she is even more incoherent. Everything must be thought through carefully.” But in her heart, she too believed what Shagu had said was true, and she knew such comfort was useless. She simply could not bear to see the grief and fury etched across Yang Guo’s face.

Seeing Yang Guo still visibly agitated, his breathing ragged and urgent, Cheng Ying stepped closer and said, “Brother Yang, I have something to say to you.” Yang Guo turned and slowly steadied his breathing. “Please speak,” he said. Cheng Ying said, “Brother Yang, the enmity of a father’s death cannot coexist under the same heaven, naturally it must be avenged. I ask only one thing of you.” Yang Guo said, “Cheng shijie, your kind advice I will certainly hear.” Cheng Ying said with solemn gravity, “Brother Yang, this time we are not jesting. I am speaking in earnest.” Yang Guo wiped away the faint trace of a smile from his face and said, “Little sister, you have always treated me so well. My careless way of calling you ‘shijie’ and ‘Gugu’, it was all in jest.” He seized the moment to prevent Cheng Ying from misunderstanding. With utter seriousness he said, “In my heart, I truly regard you as my little sister! My feelings for you are sincere. But my life. I gave it to my Gugu long ago. I cannot give it to you. Other than that, I will heed you in everything.” Cheng Ying said, “Brother Yang, thank you.” She extended her right palm, facing upward. Yang Guo lightly struck her palm with his, then turned his own palm upward. Cheng Ying struck his palm lightly in return, then turned her palm over. Yang Guo struck her palm once more. This was the “Three Palm Strikes”, in Song custom, it signified the swearing of an oath. After the Three Palm Strikes, whatever was said and promised could never be taken back.

Cheng Ying said, “My foolish shijie is simple and honest. Her words are certainly not false. But her mind is unclear, and some matters are terribly tangled, she may well have gotten things wrong. I do not ask you not to seek revenge. I ask only that before you act, you think three times, and consider the words I now speak. Could you have found the wrong enemy? If you have found the wrong person, what then? I ask only that you promise me: when the moment comes to strike, you must think it through with absolute clarity. Once that hand moves, there can be no turning back.” Yang Guo said, “Little sister, you speak these words for my sake, truly golden counsel, precious as jade. I will engrave them on my heart and never violate them.”

Cheng Ying said, “Brother Yang, take care of yourself in all things. The great matter of revenge, ten years is not too late. You need not contend for a single morning or evening. Wait ten years, and your martial skills will have grown by ten years, while your enemy will have aged by ten years. If you cannot avenge yourself this year, in ten years, in twenty years, it will be easier! By then, he will have waned and you will have waxed. We must seek certain victory, and above all we must not find the wrong enemy. Guard against error. Restrain haste.” Yang Guo nodded. “Right! Right! My little sister is truly wise.” He extended his arms and gave her a light, airy embrace. Cheng Ying’s face suddenly flushed deep red, her eyes filled with tenderness.

Yang Guo stood stunned for a long moment, then waved and strode out the door. He mounted his lean horse and clamped his legs tight. The horse shot forward, and in an instant he was dozens of zhang away. He rode at a furious gallop, covering dozens of li in just over a shichen.⁴ Suddenly he felt a sharp pain on his lips. He reached up to touch them, his hand came away covered in blood. In his grief and fury, he had bitten through both his upper and lower lips. He thought, Auntie Guo never treated me well to begin with. That she suddenly became kind to me recently, it was all false benevolence, nothing more. But Uncle Guo… Uncle Guo… In his heart, he had always revered Guo Jing beyond measure, believing his virtue and martial skill to be transcendent, his treatment of himself utterly sincere. Only now did he realise he had been profoundly deceived. He felt this man’s treachery surpassed even Huang Rong’s.

At the peak of his grief, he dismounted and sat in the middle of the road, buried his face in his hands, and wept bitterly. He had never once seen his father’s face. Even his mother had never spoken a word of his father’s affairs. But since childhood, in his imagination, in his tiny heart, he had pictured his father as perfect in every way, there could be no finer man in the world. Such a hero, such a noble man, had been murdered by Guo Jing and Huang Rong, and died so wretchedly.

He wept for a time, then suddenly heard the sound of hoofbeats. Four horses approached from the north, carrying Mongol warriors. The lead rider held a long spear, and impaled upon its head was an infant, no more than two or three years old. He came galloping with a great laugh. The baby was not yet dead. Faint cries still came from its tiny mouth. The four Mongol warriors saw Yang Guo sitting in the road weeping and were slightly puzzled, but such ragged Han youths were everywhere and not worth noticing. One shouted, “Make way! Make way!” He thrust his spear at Yang Guo.

Yang Guo, deep in anguish, seized the spearhead and yanked. The warrior was pulled from his horse. Yang Guo reversed the spear and swept it sideways, the warrior flew over a zhang away, his skull shattered, dead. The remaining three, seeing such divine prowess, cried out in unison and wheeled their horses to flee. There was a soft thud, the infant had fallen onto the road.

Yang Guo picked up the child. It was a Han baby, plump and fair, utterly adorable. The spear had pierced its belly, death was certain, though it had not yet come. The tiny mouth was still mouthing “Mama, Mama.” In his own grief, Yang Guo’s compassion swelled. Holding the half-dead child, tears streamed down his face once more. Seeing the infant’s unbearable suffering, he ended its life with a light palm strike. He used the Mongol warrior’s spear to dig a hole in the earth, intending to bury it.

He had dug barely a dozen times when the thunder of hoofbeats and the blast of horns announced a great column of Mongol cavalry charging toward him. Yang Guo held the dead infant in his left arm and raised the spear in his right, mounting his horse. The lean horse was a battle-tested veteran. Seeing the war formation, its spirit surged. With a long neigh, it charged at the Mongol soldiers. Yang Guo’s spear rose and fell, he skewered three or four men in rapid succession. But enemy soldiers poured toward him in countless numbers. He wheeled his horse and fled into the wilderness. Arrows came at his back like a cloud of locusts. He deflected them one by one with his spear. The lean horse was remarkably swift and soon left the pursuers far behind, yet it kept running, galloping wildly through the barren land.

After another stretch, Yang Guo saw the sky darkening. He reined in and gazed around. In all directions, wild grass rose past the ankles, strange rocks loomed menacingly, and the evening haze spread vast and indistinct. There was perfect silence, not a human voice, not even a crow or a sparrow.

He dismounted, still holding the dead infant. Its face looked as though it were merely sleeping, but its expression was twisted in agony. A bitter sorrow filled him. He thought, This child’s parents must have loved him as their very life. The child is dead now, beyond all feeling, but his parents’ hearts will be torn to shreds. These brutal Mongol soldiers are sweeping south, who knows how many adults and children they will kill along the way? The more he thought, the harder it was to bear. He dug a hole beside a large tree and buried the child. Then Shagu’s words came back to him. He thought, This child, dead, still had me to bury him. But my father, his body was fed to the crows. Ah, since you killed him, what harm would it have been to bury him in the earth? Your cruelty is truly vicious! If I do not avenge this wrong, I, Yang Guo, swear I am no man.

That night he slept in a large tree. The next morning he mounted his horse and let the lean horse wander at will through the desolate mountains and wild ridges. At times he thought of returning to the Ancient Tomb to see Xiaolongnü. At other times he felt that no matter what, he must first kill Guo Jing and Huang Rong to avenge his father. When hunger came, he picked wild fruit to fill his belly.

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On the fourth day of travel, he suddenly saw someone in the distance leap high into the air and pluck fruit from a wild tree, the movements light and agile, his martial skill not weak. Yang Guo rode closer and saw it was Jinlun Guoshi’s disciple, Da’erba⁵. Each time Da’erba leaped, he picked only a single fruit. Growing impatient, he stretched out his arm and struck the tree sideways several times. With a cracking sound, the wild fruit tree snapped in half. He gathered all the fruit and stuffed it into his robes.

Yang Guo thought, Could Jinlun Guoshi be nearby? He had never had any particular grudge against the National Preceptor. But now, convinced that Guo Jing and Huang Rong were his father’s murderers, he actually regretted having helped the Guo couple oppose the Preceptor before. He quietly followed behind Da’erba to see what was happening. Da’erba strode like the wind, heading straight into a mountain hollow. Yang Guo dismounted and followed on foot, keeping his distance. He watched Da’erba enter deeper and deeper woods, climbing higher and higher, until he reached a mountain peak.

Footnotes

1. Gugu (姑姑) — Literally “paternal aunt,” but used here as a term of respectful address for a young woman of the older generation. Yang Guo uses this to address Xiaolongnü, his shifu. ↩

2. 郭靖 – Guō Jìng. His name meaning “tranquillity” or “pacification”. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

3. 黄蓉 – Huáng Róng. Her name meaning “lotus” or “hibiscus”. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

4. 时辰 – shíchen. Traditional Chinese double hour; one twelfth of a day, equal to two modern hours. ↩

5. 达尔巴 – Dá’ěrbā. Golden Wheel National Preceptor’s second disciple. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩