The Return of the Condor Heroes Chapter 17 – Part 4

It was indeed Zhou Botong. Wanting to get into the valley to make mischief, he had deliberately let the four disciples of the Passionless Valley take him in their fishing net. He had offered no resistance, and only once inside the valley had he broken out of the net and got away. Hiding among the rocks, bent on turning the valley upside down, he had seen Yang Guo and his party of six arrive. That night he had taken Xiaoxiangzi by surprise, sealed his acupoints, carried him out of the stone hut, stripped him and put on his clothes himself. So superb was his qinggong, coming and going without a trace, that Xiaoxiangzi had fallen into his hands in his sleep, and even the State Preceptor and the others had noticed nothing. Having changed, Zhou Botong had gone back into the stone hut and lain down beside Yang Guo, helping himself on the way to the shears and mask from his pack. When everyone woke next morning, no one had noticed a thing.

With his acupoints sealed, Xiaoxiangzi had at once set his neili working to free them, but Zhou Botong’s hand at sealing points was so skilled that three shichen¹ passed before he could move his limbs freely. By then he was left with nothing but the shirt and smallclothes next to his skin. In a towering rage, he had knocked down a green-clad valley disciple who happened to pass, put on his jacket, trousers, shoes and socks, and hurried to the great stone house. There he found a man in his own clothes locked in a fierce fight with Fan Yiweng, and in his fury he flung himself on him savagely.

Seeing Yang Guo come to snatch the shears, Zhou Botong called on his Ambidextrous Self-Combat.² His left palm darted out and back to deal with Yang Guo, while the shears in his right hand opened and shut and kept Xiaoxiangzi from getting close. When the great shears opened, the blades were a good two feet apart, and if they caught a man round the neck and snapped shut, his head would part from his shoulders on the spot. Furious as he was, Xiaoxiangzi dared not rush in.

Valley Master Gongsun had already been secretly impressed while Zhou Botong was fighting Fan Yiweng. Now he watched him fight two men with his two hands at once, exactly as if one man had become two. The Yin-Yang Dual Blades art he had learned himself was a little like this, but how could he ever divide his mind the way this man did? He saw, too, Xiaoxiangzi’s iron claws and vicious attacks, while Yang Guo moved with an easy grace, handsome in bearing, every movement light and unworldly. The world is wide, and able men spring up everywhere, he thought. Those two old men are formidable indeed, and though this youth’s power is shallow, his footwork and fists are graceful in the extreme. “Please stop, all three of you,” he called in a ringing voice.

Yang Guo and Xiaoxiangzi leapt back together. Zhou Botong pulled off the human-skin mask³ and flung it at Yang Guo together with the shears. “That’s enough fun. I’m off!” he cried, and with a kick of both feet he shot up towards the beams.

When the valley disciples saw his true face, a clamour broke out. “Father, that’s the old man!” cried Gongsun Lü’e. Zhou Botong sat astride the beam and roared with laughter. The beam was some thirty feet from the floor. There were plenty of fine fighters in the hall, none of them poor at qinggong, but every one of them knew he could not spring up there so lightly. Fan Yiweng was the senior disciple of the Passionless Valley, older even than the Valley Master, and after the Valley Master the strongest fighter in the valley. Made a fool of by Zhou Botong time and again that day, how could he not be furious? Small and short, he was an expert climber. He sprang up, wrapped himself round a pillar and went shinning up it like a monkey. Zhou Botong loved nothing better than someone to romp with, and Fan Yiweng climbing up to join the fun was just to his taste. Before Fan Yiweng had even reached the beam, he was reaching down to give him a hand.

How was Fan Yiweng to know Zhou Botong meant well? Seeing the right hand stretched out, he jabbed a finger straight at the Great Mound acupoint on its wrist.⁴ The moment Zhou Botong felt the faint touch on his wrist, he closed the acupoint and let the muscles go slack, and Fan Yiweng’s finger went in as if into cotton wool. As he snatched his hand back, Zhou Botong’s palm flipped over and smacked the back of it with a crisp slap. “One basket of wheat, two baskets of wheat, big brother, little brother, pat the wheat!”⁵ he sang. Fan Yiweng was beside himself. He jerked his head and lashed his long beard at Zhou Botong’s chest. Hearing the hiss of the stroke, Zhou Botong pushed off with his left foot and swung clear, hanging by his left hand from the crossbeam with his whole body in the air, swinging to and fro as if on a swing.

Xiaoxiangzi knew Fan Yiweng was no match for the old man, and that even if he went up to help, the two of them might not win. He turned to Nimoxing and Ma Guangzuo. “Brothers Ni and Ma, this old man thinks nothing at all of the six of us. It’s more than flesh and blood can bear.” Nimoxing was hot-tempered and could not stand provocation, and Ma Guangzuo was slow-witted and could not tell right from wrong. Hearing that the old man thought nothing of the six of them, they took it for the truth, gave a roar together and leapt at the crossbeam to grab Zhou Botong’s feet. Zhou Botong kicked out left and right at their hands.

Xiaoxiangzi turned to Yin Kexi and said coldly, “Brother Yin, are you really going to sit there with your hands in your sleeves?” Yin Kexi smiled faintly. “You go first, Brother Xiaoxiang. I’ll be happy to follow at your heels.” Xiaoxiangzi gave an eerie shriek that chilled everyone in the hall, and suddenly sprang. His knees did not bend, his whole body was rigid, his arms stretched stiff in front of him, for all the world like a walking corpse, and he clawed at Zhou Botong’s belly.

Seeing the two claws coming, Zhou Botong suddenly shrank and curled up in a ball like a cat, switching his grip on the beam from left hand to right. Xiaoxiangzi’s claws closed on air, and unable to stay aloft, he dropped to the floor. His whole body was like a stiff, straight plank. He pushed off with the soles of his feet and shot up again. Fan Yiweng lashed his beard along the beam, while Xiaoxiangzi, Nimoxing and Ma Guangzuo kept rising and falling, one up as another came down, leaping high again and again to attack from below.

Yin Kexi laughed. “The old man really is something. I’ll join in the fun too.” He reached into his robe, and all at once the hall was ablaze with the glow of pearls and the glitter of gold. A soft whip had appeared in his hand. It was twisted from gold and silver thread and set all over with pearls, jade and precious stones, so rich and splendid a weapon that there could hardly be another like it in the whole wulin.⁶ Flashing like rosy cloud, the gold-thread pearl whip went coiling at Zhou Botong’s calf.

Yang Guo was enjoying the show. Five of them, each using every trick he has, ganging up on the Old Urchin, he thought. Unless I find some surprising way to win, I can’t call myself any good. An idea came to him. He put on the human-skin mask, gave a weird shriek in imitation of Xiaoxiangzi, picked up the steel staff Fan Yiweng had thrown down, and with one push on it vaulted into the air. The staff was already more than ten feet long, and with that vault he came level with Zhou Botong. “Old Urchin, mind the shears!” he yelled, and went for his white beard with the great shears.

Zhou Botong was delighted. Tilting his head away from the shears, he cried, “Young Brother, that’s a grand trick of yours.” “Old Urchin, I never did you any harm,” said Yang Guo. “Why play a joke on me?” Zhou Botong laughed. “Give and take. You haven’t lost a thing. If anything, you’ve come out ahead.” Yang Guo was taken aback. “What do you mean, give and take?” “You once shouted that you were my friend and told them to let me go,” said Zhou Botong, laughing, “so I took you for a friend.” Seeing Yin Kexi’s gold-thread whip lash at him, he reached out to grab it. Yin Kexi made the whip curl back to strike at his back, but he himself was already falling. “You dead red-banded snake,”⁷ said Zhou Botong, “all gaudy colours, you’re quite good fun.” By now Fan Yiweng’s long beard was lashing at him too. Hanging from the beam by both hands, Fan Yiweng was fighting with his beard alone.

Zhou Botong laughed. “So that’s what a big beard’s for?” He copied him and flung his own chin beard out too, but his beard was far shorter than Fan Yiweng’s and he had never trained it, so the lash did nothing at all. With a swish, the other man’s beard caught him across the cheek instead and raised fine red weals that stung and burned. Had his neili not been so deep, he would have fainted on the spot. The Old Urchin had been hurt, yet far from angry, he was full of admiration. “Long-Beard, my beard’s no match for yours. I lose, and we’ll stop for now. I’ll go and train up my beard skill, and then we’ll have another bout.”

Having scored a hit, Fan Yiweng lashed out with his beard again. Not daring to fight beard with beard a second time, Zhou Botong used a move from the Void Clarity Fist⁸ with his left hand, a loose, airy punch. The wind of it pushed Fan Yiweng’s beard swinging off to the right just as Ma Guangzuo came leaping up to attack, and the long beard swept right across his face. His eyes covered, Ma Guangzuo grabbed the beard with both hands. Fan Yiweng’s beard was normally his to furl and unfurl at will, but the wind of Zhou Botong’s fist had robbed him of control, and it had fallen into Ma Guangzuo’s hands. Startled, he tugged hard to get it back, but Ma Guangzuo held on with brute strength and, as he dropped, pulled with the fall. With a tremendous crash, the two of them came down to the floor together.

Ma Guangzuo was thick of hide and fat of flesh, and the fall did not hurt him much. Fan Yiweng landed on top of him. “What do you think you’re doing?” he shouted. “Let go!” The fall had not hurt Ma Guangzuo, but having the little man’s feet dig into his belly was rather more than he could take. “I won’t let go,” he bellowed. “What are you going to do about it?” He twisted his wrist sharply and wound the beard several times round his forearm. Fan Yiweng struck at his face with a palm. Ma Guangzuo jerked his head aside, but the palm was a feint, and thump, Fan Yiweng’s left fist landed square on the bridge of his nose. Ma Guangzuo howled and punched back. In martial skill Fan Yiweng was far the better man, but with his beard wound round his enemy’s arm he could hardly turn his head, and this punch too caught him on the cheekbone. The tall man and the short one rolled about on the floor, pounding each other, and though Fan Yiweng was on top, he could not get free.

State Preceptor Jinlun saw the hall in uproar. Six of them had come together, five had joined the fight, and still they could not deal with one Old Urchin, which was somewhat shaming. With a double clang he took from his robe a silver wheel and a bronze wheel. One went from left to right, the other from right to left, cutting two arcs of light as they flew at Zhou Botong. The wheels rang sharply in the air, a terrifying sound. Both were made of fine steel and very heavy, merely plated on the outside with silver and bronze, so that their colours differed.

Zhou Botong did not realise how dangerous they were. “What are these?” he said, and reached out to grab one. Yang Guo, wanting to help him, shouted, “Don’t grab it!” and hurled the steel staff up. There was a tremendous clang, and the long, thick staff was struck by the bronze wheel and sent flying into a corner, where it hit the stone wall in a shower of sparks and flying chips. The bronze wheel came spinning back, and the State Preceptor flicked it with his left hand to send it whirling up at the crossbeam again.

Only now did Zhou Botong realise this monk was not to be trifled with. There were too many of them, he thought, more than he could handle. He somersaulted down to the floor. “Farewell, everyone. The Old Urchin takes his leave. We’ll play again tomorrow.” He ran for the doorway, only to find four men in green holding a fishing net across it. Zhou Botong knew how dangerous these nets were. “This is bad!” he cried, and sprang for the east window, but there was a flicker of green and another net came sweeping at him.

Zhou Botong leapt back to the middle of the hall, and saw that on all four sides, east, south, west and north, four men in green stood with a net spread to block his way. He sprang up onto the beam again and, with a Sky-Piercing Palm, knocked a great hole in the roof, but as he was about to wriggle out through it he looked up and saw another net stretched over it. With nowhere to go, he flipped back down to the floor, pointed at the Valley Master and said with a laugh, “Yellow-face, old fellow, what are you keeping me here for? Want me to stay and play with you?”

Valley Master Gongsun said coolly, “Just leave behind the four things you took, and you shall go free at once.” “Eh!” said Zhou Botong in surprise. “What would I want with your stinking things? Even if I trained my skills up to your level, would that be anything to covet?” Valley Master Gongsun walked slowly to the middle of the hall, flicked the dust from his clothes with his right sleeve, flicked it again with his left, and said, “If today were not my wedding day, I should have to ask you for a few moves. You had better leave the valley’s property behind and go in peace.”

Zhou Botong flew into a rage. “So you’re accusing me of stealing your things. Pah, what treasure could there be in this beggarly valley of yours?” And he began undoing his clothes and peeling them off one by one, so quickly that in a moment he was stark naked. Valley Master Gongsun shouted at him again and again to stop, but he took no notice. He turned his clothes inside out, every piece, and there was indeed nothing in them. The women disciples in the hall were thoroughly embarrassed and turned their heads away, not daring to look. This was more than the Valley Master had expected too. The things missing from his study, his elixir room, his lingzhi room and his jian room were all important and had to be recovered. Could the Old Urchin really not have taken them?

While he was still thinking it over, Zhou Botong clapped his hands. “Look at you, an old man already, how can you be so lacking in the dignity of your years? Saying whatever comes into your head, doing everything back to front, no sense of decency in front of all these people. Won’t people laugh their teeth out?” These were the very words that ought to have been aimed at him, but he had got in first, and Valley Master Gongsun, not knowing whether to laugh or cry, found he had no answer. Seeing Fan Yiweng and Ma Guangzuo still tangled up and brawling on the floor, he shouted, “Yiweng, get up. Stop making a nuisance of yourself with our guest.”

Zhou Botong laughed. “Long-Beard, I like your never-let-go, fight-to-the-finish temper. We two old fellows might well be friends.” In fact Fan Yiweng had been grave and steady all his life. He had been forced into this scuffle with Ma Guangzuo, and had tried several times to get up, but with his beard wound round the other man’s arm, he could not get free.

Footnotes

1. 时辰 – shíchén. A traditional Chinese time period of two hours. The day is divided into twelve shichen. ↩

2. 左右互搏 – Zuǒyòu Hùbó. Zhou Botong’s technique of fighting with each hand independently. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

3. 人皮面具 – Human-skin mask. Rénpí miànjù. Disguise mask crafted to look like real human skin, capable of transforming the wearer’s appearance completely. Huang Yaoshi is known for crafting these. Yang Guo received his from Cheng Ying. ↩

4. 大陵穴 – Great Mound acupoint. Dàlíng xué. Pericardium-7 (PC7) in acupuncture, located at the wrist crease. Striking this acupoint can disable the hand and wrist. ↩

5. 拍大麦 – Pat the wheat. Pāi dàmài. Traditional Chinese children’s clapping game, similar to “pat-a-cake.” Zhou Botong’s recitation while slapping Fan Yiweng’s hand reflects his childlike, playful nature. ↩

6. 武林 – wǔlín. Literally martial forest. Those who actually practise, teach or study martial arts. Wulin sits inside the jianghu and is narrower than it: every member of the wulin belongs to the jianghu, but a pedlar or physician of the jianghu who never trained is no part of the wulin. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

7. 赤练蛇 – Red-banded snake. Chìliàn shé. Zhou Botong is mocking Yin Kexi’s colourful whip by comparing it to the red-banded snake, a common, gaudily banded snake of China. ↩

8. 空明拳 – Kōngmíng Quán. Zhou Botong’s signature fist technique, created during his fifteen years of solitary confinement on Peach Blossom Island. Style emphasizes emptiness and softness, redirecting force rather than meeting it directly. ↩