The Return of the Condor Heroes Chapter 17 – Part 7
Translation by Jenxi Seow
Fan Yiweng was utterly loyal to his shifu. He had always seen his shifu living in lonely desolation and had constantly wished for some way to ease his spirits. Days ago, when his shifu had brought back a beautiful young woman and she had consented to the marriage, his own joy had nearly matched his shifu’s. Now, seeing Yang Guo disrupt matters and provoke the new mistress into vomiting blood, with his shifu already enraged, Fan Yiweng stepped forward and barked harshly, “Boy named Yang, if you know what’s good for you, leave at once! Our Valley Master has no use for rude guests like you.”
Yang Guo heard but did not hear. He said softly to Xiaolongnü again, “Gugu, have you truly forgotten Guoer?” Fan Yiweng flew into a rage and reached out to grab Yang Guo by the back and fling him out of the hall. Yang Guo was pouring his entire heart and soul into speaking with Xiaolongnü, oblivious to everything else. Only when Fan Yiweng’s fingers touched his back did he start in alarm and hastily pull away. The opponent’s five fingers grasped empty air. With a tearing sound, a great hole was ripped in the back of his clothing.
Yang Guo pleaded again and again. Seeing that Xiaolongnü remained unmoved, he grew more and more desperate. Had they been in the ancient tomb or some deserted place, he could have slowly pleaded his case. But there were so many outsiders in this great hall, and now Fan Yiweng had come to shout and strike at him. All his pent-up grievance was about to erupt onto this man. He turned his head and shouted, “I am speaking with my Gugu. What business is it of yours, you dwarf?” Fan Yiweng bellowed, “The Valley Master told you to leave and never return. If you will not obey, do not blame me for showing no mercy.”
Yang Guo raged, “I will not leave! If my Gugu does not leave, I will stay here my whole life. Even if I die, even if my bones turn to ash, I will follow her.” These words were, of course, meant for Xiaolongnü to hear.
Gongsun, the Valley Master, stole a glance at Xiaolongnü’s face. He saw teardrops rolling back and forth in her eyes. At last, unable to hold them back, they fell drop by drop onto the fresh blood on her chest. He felt both jealousy and worry. He shot Fan Yiweng a meaningful glance and made a killing gesture with his right hand, signalling him to strike Yang Guo dead with a fierce blow and sever Xiaolongnü’s attachment once and for all, preventing future trouble.
Seeing this gesture, Fan Yiweng was greatly taken aback. He had only intended to drive Yang Guo out of the valley, to stop his pestering. He had never imagined his shifu would suddenly issue an order to kill. He said loudly, “Though today is the auspicious day of Master’s great wedding, can it be that I may not kill a man?” His eyes sought his shifu’s. Gongsun, the Valley Master, chopped his hand down heavily once more, meaning: “Never mind what day it is, kill this boy at once.” Fan Yiweng picked up the pure-steel giant staff and slammed it heavily against the floor, making the entire hall hum with reverberations. He shouted, “Boy, are you truly not afraid to die?”
Yang Guo had just spat blood. Now the hot blood in his chest surged and rolled, about to burst from his mouth again. The Ancient Tomb School’s neili cultivation emphasized self-restraint and the curbing of desire. When Xiaolongnü’s master had transmitted the mental techniques to her, she had earnestly instructed that joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure must all be suppressed. Later, when Xiaolongnü could not control her emotions, she had vomited blood several times. Yang Guo had received instruction from Xiaolongnü, and his neili followed the same path. Now his hands and feet were icy cold. He thought, “I will spew blood wildly right before Gugu and die, let us see if she still refuses to acknowledge me.” But another thought turned: “Gugu has always treated me with such love and affection. There must be some other reason behind today’s events. Most likely she is under this wretched Valley Master’s coercion, helpless, and dare not acknowledge me. If I harm my own body, it will only make it harder to resist.” At this thought, his heroic spirit surged. He resolved to fight his way out of the encirclement and rescue Xiaolongnü. He steadied his mind, sank his qi to his dantian,1 and slowly pressed the churning hot blood back down. He smiled faintly and pointed at Fan Yiweng. “This dead-alive valley of yours, when I wish to come, you cannot stop me. When I wish to leave, do not think you can keep me.”
Everyone had seen him lose his composure so completely, on the verge of madness, then suddenly become calm and composed. All were astonished.
Fan Yiweng had earlier seen Yang Guo’s grief and vomiting of blood and had secretly felt sorry for him. He truly had no wish to take his life. Swinging the steel staff, he stirred a fierce wind that set Yang Guo’s robes fluttering. He said loudly, “Young Brother, go quickly!” Gongsun, the Valley Master, frowned. “Yiweng, why this endless dithering?” Seeing his shifu issue a strict command, Fan Yiweng had no choice but to shake out the steel staff and strike fiercely at Yang Guo’s shin.
Gongsun Lü’e knew well that her eldest shixiong’s martial skill was astonishing. Though his body stood no taller than four chi, he possessed heaven-born divine strength, and his martial arts had already absorbed seventy or eighty percent of their father’s teachings. This steel staff had killed many fierce and savage beasts. She expected that Yang Guo, young as he was, could never withstand her eldest shixiong’s eighty-one stances of the Water-Splashing Staff Technique.2 Once the two had exchanged blows, rescue would be difficult. Though she saw her father’s face hard with frost, his expression one of extreme fury, she still mustered her courage and stepped forward. “Young Master Yang,” she said to Yang Guo, “staying here longer will do you no good. Why throw away your life for nothing?” Her tone was gentle, filled with concern and care.
Guoshi and the others all turned to look at her, secretly marvelling. Each thought, “Yang Guo entered the valley at the same time as the rest of us. How did he secretly form a friendship with this girl?”
Yang Guo nodded and smiled. “Many thanks for your kind concern, miss. Would you like to use a long beard to braid a plait to play with?” Gongsun Lü’e froze. “What?” Yang Guo said, “I’ll pluck this dwarf’s beard and give it to you to play with. How about that?” Gongsun Lü’e was terrified. To dare such a joke, was he truly tired of living? Discipline in the Passionless Valley was extremely strict. In urging Yang Guo with those few words, she had already risked a severe punishment from her father. Who could have known it would provoke such wild talk from him? Her face flushed red. Not daring to say another word, she retreated into the ranks of the disciples.
Fan Yiweng was short in stature and had always been exceedingly proud of his beard. Hearing Yang Guo’s flippant insult, he suddenly threw down the steel staff and leaped forward. “Fine, you whelp!” he roared. “Taste my beard first!” With the shout, his long beard swept toward Yang Guo. Yang Guo laughed. “Old Imp didn’t cut your beard. Let me try.” He drew the great scissors from his pack and snipped swiftly at the beard. Fan Yiweng lashed his beard straight at Yang Guo’s crown with ferocious force. Yang Guo, having devoted careful thought to scissor techniques for fighting Li Mochou, shifted his stance slightly and evaded. The scissor blades snapped back. With a click, they closed. Fan Yiweng was horrified. He flipped away in a somersault. Had he been an instant slower, his entire beard would have been cut off. The shock nearly stopped his heart. The onlookers too let out a collective gasp of surprise.
Li Mochou’s skill with her cloud duster was extraordinary. Yang Guo, intending to defeat her with the great scissors, had carefully thought through every detail in advance. How her duster would coil, how the scissors would thrust, how the duster would strike, how the scissors would clamp. He had never expected that instead of Li Mochou, he would encounter this dwarf who used his beard as a weapon here in the Passionless Valley. Yang Guo thought, “Your beard technique, however formidable, can never surpass Li Mochou’s cloud duster.” With fury and desperation driving him, he pressed the attack with the great scissors. Fan Yiweng had trained his beard for over ten years. With both palms free to assist, it was even more formidable than an ordinary soft whip or cloud duster. Shaking his head and swaying his neck, he drove his beard while simultaneously launching palm strikes at Yang Guo.
Earlier, when Zhou Botong had used the great scissors to cut Fan Yiweng’s beard, his beard had instead coiled around the scissors, forcing Zhou Botong to concede. Everyone had witnessed Zhou Botong’s skill and judged themselves far beneath him. Yet now Yang Guo wielded those same great scissors, cutting and clamping, twisting and dancing, with technique that actually surpassed Old Imp’s handling. All were astonished. In terms of pure martial ability, Yang Guo was of course far inferior to Zhou Botong. But he had carefully studied Li Mochou’s cloud duster techniques beforehand and devised scissor techniques to counter them. Fan Yiweng’s beard happened to be used in much the same way as a cloud duster. Wielding the scissors thus came naturally to Yang Guo, giving him a great advantage. Compared to Zhou Botong, who had simply grabbed the great scissors and snipped and clamped at random with no systematic approach, the difference was enormous. Jinlun Guoshi and the others did not know the reason. They had only seen Old Imp hand the great scissors to Yang Guo and assumed that, given Zhou Botong’s personality, this bizarre, playful weapon must have been his own whimsical creation. That Yang Guo excelled with the sword was something Guoshi already knew well.
Fan Yiweng narrowly avoided the scissors several times. His contempt for Yang Guo as young and incapable vanished at once. He changed his technique, whirling his beard in wild circles, striking from all eight directions. Vertical sweeps and horizontal slashes, it had indeed become a systematic style. Yang Guo snapped the scissors repeatedly but caught only air. He also saw that his opponent’s palm wind was fierce and penetrating. Sometimes the beard was a feint and the palm strike the real attack. Sometimes the palm technique lured while the beard seized the opening to strike. Real and feint intertwined, a marvellous martial technique never before seen in the jianghu. After several dozen exchanges, Yang Guo thought, “This Valley Master is sinister and ruthless. His martial skill must far surpass this dwarf’s. If I cannot defeat the disciple, how can I challenge the master?” A faint anxiety stirred in his heart. But Fan Yiweng’s beard was both long and thick, far larger than Li Mochou’s cloud duster. Spread out in attack, it truly had no openings.
After several more exchanges, Yang Guo fixed his gaze on his opponent. He saw the man shaking his head and swaying his neck with a comical expression. The faster he wielded his beard, the more vigorously that round little head bobbed. An idea stirred. He had found the counter. With a click of the scissors, he leaped back half a zhang and called, “Hold!” Fan Yiweng did not pursue. “Young Brother,” he said, “since you concede, you had best leave the valley quickly.” Yang Guo smiled and shook his head. “Once this great bush of a beard is trimmed short, how long will it take to grow back?” Fan Yiweng said angrily, “What business is that of yours? My beard has never been cut.” Yang Guo shook his head. “A pity. A pity.” Fan Yiweng said, “What’s a pity?” Yang Guo said, “Within three moves, I will cut your great beard off. You are not a bad man. If you are afraid, it is not too late to withdraw now.”
Fan Yiweng thought, “You and I have already exchanged several dozen moves and it has always been a draw. You think to win in three moves? Humph, dreaming.” He roared, “Watch this!” He chopped with his right palm. Yang Guo blocked with his left hand while the right-hand scissors smashed down toward the opponent’s left temple. Being tall, when attacking the head or face, the scissors came from above. Fan Yiweng tilted his head to dodge. He never expected Yang Guo’s left palm to follow, chopping at his right temple. This chop was ferocious in power. Fan Yiweng hurriedly tilted his head the other way. The opponent’s strike was fast. His dodge was equally swift. His long beard swung up with the motion. Yang Guo’s great scissors had long been spread open, waiting on the right. With a click, they cut off more than a chi of beard.
Everyone gasped “Ah!”, all deeply astonished. They had seen him, in only three moves, shear off Fan Yiweng’s beard.
After fighting for so long, Yang Guo had finally discovered the truth: when Fan Yiweng’s beard swept left, his head must first turn right. When the beard struck upward, the head must first dip down. He cursed himself for his stupidity. “His beard grows on his head. If he wants to swing the beard, naturally he must first move his head. Instead of striking at the root, I kept tangling with his beard. A complete fool.” Having settled on the strategy of striking the head to cut the beard, he had declared he would cut it in three moves.
Fan Yiweng stood frozen. He watched the beard he had spent half a lifetime cultivating drift to the floor strand by strand, filled with both regret and fury. In one bound, he seized the steel staff and roared, “Today, unless we fight to the death, do not think of leaving this valley.” Yang Guo laughed. “I never wanted to leave in the first place.” Fan Yiweng swept the steel staff horizontally at his waist.
Ma Guangzuo, who had suffered greatly in his earlier tussle with Fan Yiweng, was now enormously pleased. He shouted, “Old Dwarf! Your looks were never good to begin with. Without that great bush of beard, you’re even more of a freak.” Fan Yiweng ground his teeth and added another thirty percent of power to his strike.
Yang Guo had been grappling with the soft force of the beard throughout their fight and did not know Fan Yiweng’s brute strength. Seeing the steel staff sweep toward him, he extended the scissors to block. With a deafening clang, his arm went numb. The scissors were bent out of shape by the steel staff, ruined beyond use. In that single exchange, the great scissors had become useless. The onlookers had seen Yang Guo already victorious, but with the change of weapons, the balance of power instantly reversed. Fan Yiweng now wielded a long, heavy, and formidable weapon, while Yang Guo held a piece of scrap metal. Gongsun Lü’e could not help crying out, “Young Master Yang! You cannot match my eldest shixiong’s strength. Why continue fighting?”