The Return of the Condor Heroes Chapter 21 – Part 7

At that moment the State Preceptor’s golden wheel and Xiaoxiangzi’s staff came at him together. Guo Jing tugged at the Golden Dragon Whip and could not wrench it free, so with a great shout he sent a surge of hard qi down the whip. Yin Kexi felt as if a great iron hammer had slammed into his chest. Golden stars danced before his eyes, and with a retch he spewed a mouthful of fresh blood. Guo Jing had already let go of the whip and turned to parry. Knowing he was badly hurt, Yin Kexi backed slowly away, sat cross-legged on the ground and channelled his breath to his dantian, holding back the blood so as to spit no more. The State Preceptor, Xiaoxiangzi and Nimoxing dared not press in rashly, and kept their guard tight.

Guo Jing met each move as it came, while he studied the two strange weapons of Xiaoxiangzi and Nimoxing. The mourning staff was plainly of fine forged steel, but apart from its weight and solidity he could see nothing unusual about it at first glance. Nimoxing’s snake-shaped weapon, though, was very odd indeed: a perfect venomous snake with a triangular head, its body soft and pliant, no doubt made of countless tiny iron balls set together, with sharp spikes at head and tail. Most dangerous of all, there was no telling when the body would bend or which way the head and tail would point. The short iron-snake whip in Nimoxing’s hands leapt and danced one moment and coiled and rolled the next, changing in a hundred ways, quick and lively in ten thousand shapes.

The four had traded only a few moves when there came roar upon roar like a tiger’s, and someone came striding up, huge and towering, like a mountain of flesh. It was Ma Guangzuo. He held a long, thick staff of wrought bronze, and from behind Nimoxing he brought it smashing down at the top of Guo Jing’s head. The four masters were at the height of their fight, each keeping so tight a guard that there was not the slightest gap: Guo Jing’s palm-wind, the State Preceptor’s golden wheel, Xiaoxiangzi’s staff and Nimoxing’s iron snake crossed back and forth and wove a web of force. When Ma Guangzuo’s staff came down, it struck the web the four had made between them, and though there was no sound at all, the bronze staff came flying back up. Feeling that something was wrong, he gave a great shout, drove his strength into both arms and stopped the staff dead in mid-air by main force. Even so, the webs between thumb and forefinger of both his hands were split, and blood streamed from them. “Devilry! Devilry!” he bellowed. He put more strength into his hands, summoned all his hard force, and brought the staff crashing down again.

Yang Guo, standing to one side, saw it all clearly. He was fond of the big lummox for his simple heart, and Ma Guangzuo had stood up for him several times besides. Seeing that this blow would surely bring him to grief, he shouted, “Ma Guangzuo, watch my jian!” and the Junzi Jian¹ stabbed at his back. Ma Guangzuo stood dumbfounded, his bronze staff stopped in mid-air. “Brother Yang,” he said in bewilderment, “why are you fighting me?” Yang Guo swore at him. “You great oaf, what do you think you’re doing, blundering in here? Get back, now!” His long jian quivered and stabbed again and again, till Ma Guangzuo was all hands and feet, falling back without a pause. Yang Guo kept up his swift thrusts and forced him back step by step. Ma Guangzuo had long legs and big feet, and one of his strides was a good two of an ordinary man’s, so that after a dozen or more steps back he was already well away from Guo Jing and the others. With the jian flickering before his eyes he could barely defend himself even with all his might, let alone stop to wonder why Yang Guo had suddenly turned so vicious towards him.

When Ma Guangzuo had backed off a few more steps, Yang Guo drew back his jian and pointed it at the ground. “Big Brother Ma,” he said in a low voice, “I’ve just saved your life. Do you know that?” “What?” said Ma Guangzuo loudly. “Keep your voice down,” Yang Guo whispered. “Don’t let them hear.” Ma Guangzuo glared. “Why? I’m not afraid of this Guo Jing.” He said it at the top of his voice again. To him this was an ordinary tone, but from anyone else it would have been a shout. Yang Guo said, “All right, then don’t talk. Just listen to me.” And Ma Guangzuo, sure enough, did as he was told and nodded. Yang Guo said, “That Guo Jing knows sorcery. All he has to do is mutter a spell and he can take a man’s head off. You’d better get well away.” Ma Guangzuo’s eyes, big as bronze bells, opened wide, and he half believed it and half did not.

Yang Guo was set on saving his life. He knew that if he said Guo Jing’s martial skill was formidable, Ma Guangzuo would never admit he was beaten, but if he said Guo Jing knew sorcery, the oaf would very likely believe it. He went on, “You swung your staff at his head, and it didn’t hit anything, but it bounced back up. Isn’t that strange? And that foreigner who sells jewels is a formidable fighter, so how come he got hurt the moment they came to grips?” Ma Guangzuo believed it seven or eight parts in ten, and nodded again, but he glanced at the State Preceptor, Xiaoxiangzi and the rest.

Yang Guo guessed what was in his mind. “That big monk can draw charms,” he said. “He’s given them to the corpse-ghost and the little black dwarf, and wearing those charms, they’re not afraid of sorcery. Did the big monk give you one?” “No, he didn’t,” said Ma Guangzuo indignantly. “Right,” said Yang Guo. “That thieving baldpate is no friend. He didn’t give me one either. We’ll settle with him later.” Ma Guangzuo said loudly, “That’s right. So what do we do?” Yang Guo said, “We fold our arms and watch, and the farther away the better.” Ma Guangzuo said, “Brother Yang, you’re a good man. It’s lucky you told me.” He put up his bronze staff and watched from afar as Guo Jing fought the other three.

What Guo Jing was using now was that peerless art of the wulin, the Eighteen Palms of Dragon Subduing. The State Preceptor and the other two hemmed him in closely, thinking, However deep his neili, palm strokes as fierce as these can’t last long. What they did not know was that for nearly twenty years Guo Jing had diligently practised the Nine Yin Manual. At first the neili behind his palms did not show, but after some dozens of moves the force of the Eighteen Palms grew strong and then weak, now swallowing and now spitting, and out of the utmost hardness came the wonderful use of the utmost softness. Meeting the weapons of three great masters with it, not only did he not lose an inch of ground, but he struck back whenever he saw an opening, and the longer he fought the more freely and easily he moved.

Watching from the side, Yang Guo was lost in amazement and admiration. He too had practised the Nine Yin Manual in the Ancient Tomb, but with no one to guide him he had never known that its wonders could reach such heights. Testing Guo Jing’s palm play against the manual’s formulas, he suddenly grasped a great many deep principles of the fist and committed them silently to memory, and for a while he forgot the sea of blood-vengeance he bore, and his resolve to put Guo Jing to death.

State Preceptor Jinlun and Guo Jing had been very evenly matched in martial skill. Guo Jing had met with many rare opportunities, but the State Preceptor was twenty years older, which meant twenty years’ more cultivation, and fighting one against one it would have taken them more than a thousand moves to settle it. With two first-rate fighters like Xiaoxiangzi and Nimoxing to help him, the State Preceptor should have found victory easy. But the Eighteen Palms of Dragon Subduing were simply too powerful, and besides, Guo Jing had woven into his palm play the moves of the Quanzhen Order’s Big Dipper Formation, so that at the crucial moments he slipped in and out among them until one man seemed to have become seven. And because he had wounded Yin Kexi at the very start, he had taken the heart out of the others at a stroke: his three opponents thought first of their own safety and dared not attack all-out. So, though it was three against one, the fight was even.

After some dozens more moves, the State Preceptor’s golden wheel began to show its power, and Nimoxing’s iron snake attacked ever more fiercely. Guo Jing grew uneasy. If this goes on, I won’t be able to hold out in the end. Guoer and that big fellow are fighting over there, and the big fellow’s martial skill is ordinary, so Guoer should have finished him off by now. I must join Guoer as soon as I can, and we’ll find a way out together. The four of them were fighting with everything they had, and none dared take his eyes off the fight for an instant. Yang Guo and Ma Guangzuo were watching from more than a hundred feet away, and none of the four had a moment to spare for them.

Suddenly there was an eerie screech, and Xiaoxiangzi, legs rigid, sprang several feet into the air and brought his mourning staff stabbing down from above. Guo Jing turned sideways to dodge it, and all at once everything went dark before his eyes: a puff of black smoke had spurted from the end of the staff. A faint, rank, fishy stink reached his nose, and his head swam a little. This is bad, he thought, knowing that poison was hidden in the staff, and he quickly backed away. Xiaoxiangzi was astonished that Guo Jing had plainly breathed in the deadly poison and yet not fallen, and he sprang up a second time, stabbing down again from mid-air with his poison-sand staff.

Years before, practising his skills in the wild mountains of Hunan, Xiaoxiangzi had seen a toad hiding behind a broken coffin spit poison sand from its mouth and lay low a great python. It had given him an idea. He caught toads, took their venom and refined it into a poison sand, which he hid in his mourning staff. A spring was fitted in the butt, and at a press of his finger the poison sand shot out, and if he leapt high as he loosed it, its power was greater still. He had used the poison-sand staff on huge pythons and savage beasts, and whatever it struck fell senseless at once. How could he know that Guo Jing’s neili was so deep he could hold off the deadly poison by sheer strength?

The State Preceptor and Nimoxing were close beside Guo Jing. Though the cloud was not aimed at them, the little they breathed in was enough to make their chests heave with nausea, and they hastily leapt clear. Xiaoxiangzi had long since plugged his nostrils with an antidote, and he went straight through the black cloud, swinging his staff in pursuit. Guo Jing struck a palm, “The Dragon Appears in the Field”, at Xiaoxiangzi’s rigid knee. Xiaoxiangzi pulled back his staff to block it, and before he could release more poison the force of the palm had sent him floating five feet away.

Guo Jing turned his body aside and saw Nimoxing’s iron snake darting in at him, and at once he struck with “The Hidden Dragon Does Not Act”. Nimoxing quickly brought the iron snake across in front of him, right hand gripping its tail, left hand gripping its head, to block at his chest. But the force of this palm lay all around the place it was aimed at: though the palm was pointed at his chest, his chest felt no force at all. Nimoxing’s block met empty air, and he knew he was in trouble, for he could already feel the force of the palm on his face and belly. Luckily he was small and quick. He flung himself to the ground and went rolling away in a string of little somersaults, like a great leather ball.

Seeing an opening, Guo Jing called, “Guoer, let’s go!” and leapt several paces towards open ground. State Preceptor Jinlun saw him break out of the ring and darted after him. Behind Guo Jing the Mongol soldiers were now no more than a few dozen feet away, with a dozen or more long spears pointed at his back. Guo Jing flung out both arms and knocked the spears aside, then, reaching back, seized two soldiers and hurled them at the State Preceptor. “Catch!” he shouted. If the State Preceptor caught them, the delay would let Guo Jing get still farther away, so instead he turned his left shoulder and barged them aside, sending the two soldiers flying more than ten feet, and brought his golden wheel smashing down at Guo Jing’s back.

Guo Jing knew that if he answered even one move, he would be entangled at once, and after a few exchanges Nimoxing and Xiaoxiangzi would be on him again, and then breaking free would be a hard business. He snatched two long spears and stabbed backwards with them. His feet never stopped for an instant, yet as if he had eyes in the back of his head, one spear went for the State Preceptor’s right shoulder and the other for his chest, without the least loss of aim or force. The State Preceptor silently applauded and swept his golden wheel across. Crack, crack: both spears snapped. But when he looked for Guo Jing, Guo Jing had already plunged in among the Mongol ranks.

Among the soldiers and horses, Guo Jing was like a man who has gone into a thick forest, and it was easier to get away there than in the open. A few bounds brought him to the horse of a captain of a hundred. He pulled the man from the saddle, leapt on its back, and charged this way and that through the troops until he had come out behind their lines. Then he gave the horse its head and galloped, whistling long and loud. His treasured blood-sweating horse, standing far off, heard its master’s call and came racing like the wind.

Watching from far off, Yang Guo suddenly saw the blood-sweating horse racing towards Guo Jing. Damn! he thought. Once Guo Jing was on that horse, Kublai could gather every crack soldier under heaven and still not catch him. In desperation he gave a great cry, “Ow, the pain, it’s killing me!” and swayed as if about to fall, then said in a low voice to Ma Guangzuo, “Don’t say anything, get away, quick! The farther the better.” He had put the breath of his dantian into that cry, so that even amid the din of the army Guo Jing would be sure to hear it. And once he heard it, Yang Guo reckoned, he would certainly come to the rescue, and if Ma Guangzuo were still nearby, a single palm might cost him his life. Ma Guangzuo was very willing to do what Yang Guo told him, and though he did not understand why, he stretched his long legs and ran full tilt for the royal tent.

When Guo Jing heard Yang Guo’s cry he was, as Yang Guo had expected, frantic with worry. Without waiting for the red horse to reach him, he wheeled his mount at once and charged back into the ranks, riding for the place where Yang Guo stood. A thought flashed through the State Preceptor’s mind, and he saw what Yang Guo meant to do. He let Guo Jing sweep past him unhindered, then turned back to cut off his retreat.

Guo Jing rode up to Yang Guo. “Guoer! What is it?” he cried. Yang Guo made a show of swaying on his feet. “That big fellow was no match for me, but somehow, when I put out my neili, the breath went the wrong way, and there’s a pain in my dantian like a knife twisting.” The lie was flawless. Ma Guangzuo’s martial skill was ordinary, and Guo Jing had seen that much from the single blow he struck. If Yang Guo had said Ma Guangzuo had wounded him, Guo Jing might have grown suspicious, but a mishap in using his strength could never be seen from outside. Besides, the night before, Guo Jing had believed that Yang Guo’s practice had gone astray, and for the old injury to break out again in the heat of a fierce fight was the most natural thing in the world. Seeing Yang Guo’s left hand pressed to his belly and his forehead drenched in sweat, Guo Jing judged that he was badly hurt. “Climb on my back,” he said quickly. “I’ll carry you out.” Yang Guo pretended to protest. “Uncle Guo, go quickly. My life doesn’t matter, but you are the bulwark of Xiangyang. All the soldiers and people of the city have pinned their hopes on you.” Guo Jing said, “You came here for my sake. How could I abandon you? Climb on, quick.”

Footnotes

1. 君子剑 – Jūnzǐ Jiàn. One of a legendary pair of swords. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩