The Return of the Condor Heroes Chapter 4 – Part 9

After fighting a while longer, the young Taoist had grown thoroughly timid. He only dodged and evaded, no longer daring to let Yang Guo get close. As the saying goes: one man fighting for his life is a match for ten thousand. Yang Guo had endured over half a year of resentment on Mount Zhongnan, and now he could not help venting it all. The young Taoist’s martial arts far surpassed his, but where could he find such fierce fighting spirit? Seeing he could not hold out, he could only run in circles around the arena. Yang Guo chased after him, cursing, “Stinking Taoist! You beat me well. Now that you’ve beaten me, you think you can run?”

By now, eight or nine out of ten of the spectators were Taoists. Hearing him curse “stinking Taoist” and “thieving Taoist,” they were both angry and amused. Everyone thought, “This boy needs a good lesson.” The young Taoist, driven to desperation, cried out, “Shifu! Shifu!” hoping Zhao Zhijing would call a halt. Zhao Zhijing shouted repeatedly, but Yang Guo paid no attention.

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Just when no one knew what to do, an angry roar came from the crowd. A portly Taoist burst out, leapt forward, grabbed Yang Guo by the back of the collar, and lifted him up. Slap, slap, slap, three heavy blows landed, and half of Yang Guo’s face immediately swelled. Yang Guo was nearly knocked unconscious by the three strikes. When his vision cleared, he saw it was none other than his old enemy, Lu Qingdu. On Yang Guo’s first day on the mountain, Lu Qingdu had nearly been burned alive by Yang Guo’s trick. Ever since, he had endured the mockery of his fellow disciples, who said he was less capable than a small child. He had nursed this grudge all along. Now, seeing Yang Guo causing trouble again, he could not resist stepping in.

Yang Guo had already thrown caution to the wind. Seeing it was Lu Qingdu, he knew even more that there was no hope. But with his collar seized from behind, he could not move. Lu Qingdu gave a savage grin and delivered three more slaps. “You don’t obey your shifu’s words. That makes you a traitor to our school. Anyone can beat you.” He raised his hand to strike again.

Zhao Zhijing’s shidi Cui Zhifang had noticed that Yang Guo’s moves showed no trace of their school’s martial arts. Knowing Zhao Zhijing’s narrow-mindedness, he suspected there was more to the story. Seeing Lu Qingdu striking with brutal force, he feared the boy would be injured and shouted, “Qingdu, stop!”

Though unwilling, Lu Qingdu had to obey his shishu’s command. He set Yang Guo down and said, “Shishu, you don’t understand. This boy is cunning and shameless beyond measure. If we don’t teach him a heavy lesson, what rules will our sect have left?”

Cui Zhifang ignored him and walked over to Yang Guo. He saw that both sides of the boy’s face were swollen high, black and purple, with blood around his nose and mouth, a pitiful sight. He said gently, “Yang Guo, your shifu taught you martial arts. Why don’t you practise diligently instead of brawling recklessly with your shixiong?” Yang Guo said bitterly, “What shifu? He hasn’t taught me a single bit of martial arts.” Cui Zhifang said, “I clearly heard you recite the formulas without a single mistake.”

Yang Guo thought of how Huang Rong had made him memorise the Four Books and Five Classics on Peach Blossom Island and assumed that what Zhao Zhijing taught was similarly unrelated to martial arts. He said, “I’m not trying to pass the imperial exams and become a top scholar. What use is memorising this rubbish?” Cui Zhifang decided to feign anger and test whether Yang Guo truly knew none of their school’s martial arts. He hardened his face and said, “How dare you speak so rudely to your elders?” He suddenly reached out and pushed Yang Guo’s shoulder.

Cui Zhifang was one of the top masters among the Quanzhen Order’s third generation. Though his martial arts were not equal to Zhao Zhijing’s, he had cultivated both internal and external skills and possessed considerable power. This push was perfectly calibrated in force and speed. At his touch, he felt Yang Guo’s shoulder shift slightly as neili arose of its own accord, deflecting a small portion of the push. Though Yang Guo stumbled back several steps, he did not fall. Cui Zhifang was startled, and a cloud of doubt rose in his mind. He wondered, “He’s so young and has been in our sect barely half a year. How can he have such power? If he possesses this neili, he should never have fought so chaotically in the match just now. Could there truly be deception?” What he did not know was that Yang Guo had been practising the neili technique taught by Ouyang Feng and had unwittingly made considerable progress. The neili of the White Camel Mountain¹ school was easy to begin and advanced rapidly, unlike the Quanzhen Order’s neili, which sought a solid foundation. In the first ten years of training, a White Camel Mountain disciple’s power would far exceed a Quanzhen disciple’s. Only after ten years would the Quanzhen disciple gradually catch up. The two schools’ internal energies were fundamentally different, and Cui Zhifang’s casual push could hardly distinguish between them.

The push left Yang Guo gasping for breath. He assumed Cui Zhifang was also beating him. By now, he feared neither heaven nor earth. Even if Qiu Chuji himself came, he would still fight. How could he fear some Cui Zhifang or Cui Zhiyuan? He lowered his head and charged straight at Cui Zhifang’s stomach. Cui Zhifang could hardly lower himself to tussle with a child. He smiled faintly and sidestepped, intent on observing Yang Guo’s true skill. He said, “Qingdu, exchange a few moves with Yang shidi. Hold back a little, don’t be too heavy!”

Lu Qingdu could not have asked for more. He immediately blocked Yang Guo’s path and feinted with his left palm. Yang Guo dodged right, and Lu Qingdu’s right palm struck out. This “Tiger Gate Hand” carried considerable force. With a thump, it landed square on Yang Guo’s chest. Had Yang Guo not already cultivated the White Camel Mountain neili, he would have spat blood on the spot. Even so, his chest ached unbearably, and his face turned white as paper. Lu Qingdu was secretly surprised that one palm had not knocked him down. He threw a right punch at Yang Guo’s face. Yang Guo raised his arm to block, but, not understanding boxing principles, he did not know even the most basic parries. Lu Qingdu’s right fist feinted, and his left shot out. With a thump, it struck Yang Guo’s stomach. Yang Guo doubled over in pain. Lu Qingdu showed no mercy. The edge of his right palm chopped down fiercely, striking the nape of Yang Guo’s neck. He had aimed this chop at a vital point, expecting to knock Yang Guo unconscious immediately and avenge his past humiliation. But Yang Guo’s body swayed several times. He held on desperately and still did not fall, though his head spun and he had completely lost the ability to fight back.

By now, Cui Zhifang knew for certain that Yang Guo truly did not know martial arts. He shouted, “Qingdu, stop!” Lu Qingdu said to Yang Guo, “You little brat, do you submit to me now?” Yang Guo cursed, “Thieving Taoist! One day I’ll kill you!” Lu Qingdu flew into a rage and struck Yang Guo’s nose bridge with two rapid punches.

Beaten senseless, Yang Guo swayed and was about to collapse. But somehow, a surge of hot qi suddenly rushed up from his dantian. He saw Lu Qingdu’s third punch coming at his face. There was no dodging it, no blocking it. Instinctively, his legs bent, a strange cry burst from his throat, and his palm shot out, striking Lu Qingdu square in the stomach. The crowd watched as Lu Qingdu’s massive body suddenly flew flat through the air. With a crash, dust flew up, and he lay motionless a zhang or so away, never to move again.

The watching Taoists had all felt indignant at Lu Qingdu’s bullying of the younger and weaker Yang Guo. All the senior disciples except Zhao Zhijing had been calling for him to stop. Then, in a sudden and bizarre turn, Lu Qingdu was sent flying by Yang Guo’s palm force and lay there rigid. Everyone was astonished and rushed over to examine him.

Yang Guo had never known how to use the neili of the Toad Stance.² It had only erupted instinctively in a moment of desperate crisis. The first time, on Peach Blossom Island, he had knocked out Wu Xiuwen. Several months had passed since then, and his neili had grown considerably. Moreover, his hatred for Lu Qingdu far exceeded anything he had felt towards the Wu brothers. Strength born of emotion: he had sent Lu Qingdu flying. The Taoists cried out in confusion: “Oh no! He’s dead!” “He’s not breathing! His internal organs must be shattered!” “Quick, report to the zhangmen!” Yang Guo knew he had caused a terrible disaster. In his dazed panic, he did not stop to think. He turned and ran.

The Taoists were all checking whether Lu Qingdu was dead or alive. Yang Guo slipped away quietly, and no one noticed. Zhao Zhijing saw Lu Qingdu’s eyes rolled back, his fate uncertain, and was both terrified and furious. He shouted, “Yang Guo! Yang Guo! What sorcery have you learned?” Though his martial arts were strong, he had spent most of his time guarding Chongyang Palace and had little experience of the wider world. He did not recognise the Toad Stance technique. He called several times, but Yang Guo did not answer. The Taoists turned around and found him gone. Zhao Zhijing immediately issued orders for everyone to split up and search, confident that a small child could not have gone far in such a short time.

Yang Guo fled in panic, crashing through wherever the trees grew thickest. After running for a while, he heard shouts rising behind him. From every direction came cries of “Yang Guo! Yang Guo! Come out!” His panic grew. He stumbled wildly over uneven ground. Suddenly, a figure flashed before him: a Taoist had spotted him and was rushing over. Yang Guo turned and fled, but another Taoist appeared to the west, shouting, “He’s here! He’s here!” Yang Guo ducked low and scrambled under a thick bush. The Taoist was too large to squeeze through. By the time he circled around the bush, Yang Guo had vanished.

Yang Guo burst through the bush and sprinted forward. After running for some time, the shouts of the Taoists grew distant, but he dared not stop. Avoiding the paths, he ran madly through grass and over rocks until his whole body ached and he could run no more. He sat on a rock, gasping for breath. After sitting a while, his mind repeated only: “Run, run.” But his legs felt as heavy as a thousand jin,³ and no matter what, he could not stand. Suddenly, he heard a cold laugh behind him. Yang Guo jumped in terror and turned his head. His heart nearly leapt out of his mouth. Standing behind him was a Taoist with fierce brows, furious eyes, and a long beard hanging down his chest, none other than Zhao Zhijing.

The two glared at each other in silence for a long moment, neither moving. Yang Guo suddenly let out a great cry, turned, and fled. Zhao Zhijing lunged forward, reaching for Yang Guo’s back. Yang Guo threw himself forward desperately. The hand missed by inches. He snatched up a stone and hurled it backward with all his strength. Zhao Zhijing sidestepped and quickened his pace. The distance between them shrank. Yang Guo ran madly for a dozen more paces when a deep gully suddenly appeared before him. There was no path forward. Not knowing whether it was a deep valley or a mountain stream below, he did not hesitate. He threw himself over the edge.

Zhao Zhijing reached the cliff’s edge and peered down. He watched Yang Guo roll down a grassy slope and disappear into the undergrowth. The drop from where he stood to the slope below was at least six or seven zhang. He dared not jump. He quickly detoured around to the grassy slope and followed the trail Yang Guo’s body had flattened through the grass into the trees. But Yang Guo was nowhere to be seen. The deeper he went, the denser the forest grew, until the sunlight was completely blocked. He walked a dozen-odd zhang further when it suddenly struck him: this was the site of the Tomb of the Living Dead, where the Chongyang Patriarch⁴ had once dwelt. The sect had a strict prohibition: no one was to take a single step inside. Yet if he let Yang Guo escape like this, he could not bear the frustration. He raised his voice and called, “Yang Guo! Yang Guo! Come out!”

He called several times. The forest was utterly silent, without the slightest sound. Plucking up his courage, he advanced a few more steps. In the dim light, he saw a stone tablet standing in the ground. Looking down, he read four large characters carved upon it: “No Entry for Outsiders.” Zhao Zhijing hesitated for a long while, then raised his voice again. “Yang Guo, you little thief! If you don’t come out, when I catch you I’ll beat you to death!” As his shout ended, a strange buzzing arose from the forest. Then grey shapes flickered, and a swarm of white bees flew out from among the leaves, rushing towards him.

Zhao Zhijing was horrified. He flailed his sleeves, trying to drive the bees away. His neili was profound, and the force in his sleeves was considerable. But after a few waves, the swarm suddenly split in two: one group attacked from the front while the other struck from behind. Zhao Zhijing grew even more alarmed. Not daring to be careless, he whirled both sleeves, protecting his entire body. The swarm scattered, attacking from above, below, left, right, from all eight directions. Zhao Zhijing no longer dared to resist. He covered his head and face with his sleeves, turned, and fled from the forest.

The jade bees buzzed in pursuit. Though they did not fly especially fast, they clung stubbornly and would not retreat. When Zhao Zhijing fled east, the jade bees pursued east. When he fled west, they pursued west. The moment his sleeves slowed even slightly, two bees darted through a gap and stung him, one on each cheek. In moments, Zhao Zhijing felt an unbearable itching, as though even his internal organs itched. He thought, “Today, my life is over!” Before long, he could no longer keep his footing. He collapsed on the grassy slope at the forest’s edge, rolling back and forth, howling loudly. The bee swarm circled and hovered above him. A few more bees took the opportunity to sting him again before returning to the forest.

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Footnotes

1. 白驼山 – Báituó Shān. White Camel Mountain, home of Ouyang Feng in the western regions, known for its distinctive school of martial arts and its venomous snakes. ↩

2. 蛤蟆功 – Hámá Gōng. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

3. 斤 – jīn. Traditional Chinese unit of weight, approximately 500 grams or 1.1 pounds. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

4. 祖师 – zǔshī. Rendered Patriarch. Founder of a school or tradition — the source of a lineage rather than a rung on it. Distinct from 师祖 (Grand Shifu), which is reckoned two generations up from whoever is speaking. ↩