Chapter 4 - Haughty Dragon Repents

"TEAR IT IN THREE. GIVE ME THE RUMP."

Guo Jing and Lotus Huang turned in surprise. How could they not have heard the footsteps approaching?

A beggar stood grinning at them, his eyes fixed greedily on the chicken.

He looked middle-aged to Lotus; his hair was flecked with grey and a thin beard framed his angular jawline. Strong arms and large feet extended from his patched, but incongruously clean, clothes. He held a bamboo cane, green and polished like jade, and, on his back, he carried a large gourd coated in red lacquer.

He sat down with the young couple without waiting for an invitation and uncorked the canteen. The sweet fragrance of wine drifted into the air. He glugged several large mouthfuls before handing it to Guo Jing. "Go on, lad."

"I'm afraid I don't drink, but thank you, sir." The beggar's behaviour was almost rude, but Guo Jing sensed that there was something exceptional about him.

"What about you, lass?"

She shook her head, and, as she did so, she noticed the stranger was missing an index finger on his right hand. Her father's story about the Contest of Mount Hua came back to her. Could he be the Beggar of the North, the Divine Vagrant Nine Fingers? She decided to sound him out.

The beggar had scarcely taken his eyes off the chicken since he arrived. His Adam's apple bobbed in anticipation. Lotus thought he would take it by force if he had to wait a moment longer. She tore the bird apart and gave him the bottom half.

"Exquisite! Not a single one of my beggar ancestors could conjure up such a delicious beggar's chicken." He wolfed it down as he spoke. With a smile, Lotus handed him the remaining half.

"But you young 'uns haven't eaten yet!" Even as he protested, he grabbed what was left of the chicken and soon it all disappeared down his throat.

A moment later, he spat out a few pieces of chewed bone and patted his belly in contentment. "My dear tum, you haven't tasted such delectable chicken in a long time, eh?"

"What a supreme honour to have my beggar's chicken praised by this dish's namesake." Lotus smiled.

"The lass has a sweet tongue." The beggar chuckled and pulled out a handful of gold darts from his shirt. "I saw a fight the other day. One of the men had his darts gilded with gold. This old beggar couldn't help but filch a few. Here you go, lad. You can probably exchange them for a few maces of silver."

Guo Jing declined. "You are our guest, sir; we can't take your gift." According to Mongolian custom, it was a host's duty to feed his guests.

"Now, this is awkward. I'm a beggar and I'm used to scrounging for leftovers, but I took such a wonderful chicken from you kids before you'd even tasted it . . ."

"It's only a chicken!" Guo Jing protested. "And we stole it."

"We filch, you feast – it all works out well," Lotus added.

The beggar chuckled. "I like you two. Is there anything you want? Don't be shy."

Guo Jing shook his head. He had been taught that hospitality should always be freely given without expectation of repayment in any form.

"I'd love to cook you my favourite dish." Lotus, on the other hand, knew what she wanted from this new friend. "We can go to the next town together."

The beggar agreed heartily and the three of them headed south together, to a town called Jiang Temple.

"How should we address you, sir?" Guo Jing asked.

"My last name is Hong and I'm the seventh in the family. Why don't you call me Count Seven?"

So I was right, Lotus thought. He is the Beggar of the North! He doesn't look more than a couple of years older than Qiu Chuji and yet he's ranked as one of the Five Greats, alongside Qiu's Master. Actually, Pa is around the same age, and he's one of the Greats too. What does that say about the so-called Masters of Quanzhen? They're so thick they haven't got a dog's chance of getting anywhere with their kung fu.

Lotus had not forgiven Qiu Chuji for insisting Guo Jing marry Mercy Mu, nor had she forgiven her father.

When they reached the town, they stopped at a local inn and Lotus went to the market to buy ingredients for dinner.

"She's your wife?" Count Seven Hong grinned.

Guo Jing dared not confirm or deny the question, and so answered only with a blush. His awkwardness amused the old beggar no end. Eventually, he stopped laughing and immediately started snoring instead.

When Lotus returned, more than an hour later, she went straight into the kitchen. Guo Jing offered to help, but she pushed him out with a smile.

Another hour passed; the beggar yawned and sniffed noisily. "Curious! What's she cooking? Something's afoot!" He craned to peer into the kitchen, but he could not see much from his seat.

Guo Jing stifled a giggle as the man fidgeted, scratched his face, switched seats and paced the room, growing more and more impatient as the smell of cooking drifted in from the kitchen.

"The mere thought of food makes me lose my wits. You know the saying, 'The index finger pulses when food's about'? It's certainly true for me. This finger –" he held up his right hand – "throbs when I see or smell something delicious. I once botched a very important task because I got so distracted by my aching tummy, so I chopped it off . . ."

Guo Jing gasped.

"But I'm still just as much of a glutton as before," Count Seven said with a sigh.

Lotus finally emerged with a wooden tray: three bowls of white rice, one wine cup and two dishes piled high with her creations. She filled the cup with wine and said, "Count Seven, do let me know what you think of my cooking."

The beggar's chopsticks got straight to work on what Guo Jing thought looked like pan-fried beef strips. But Count Seven knew it was something much more complex than that, as new flavours and sensations unveiled themselves with every bite. One moment smooth, another moment crunchy – it was impossible to predict the next taste or texture. It was as if his tongue was sparring with a martial master. He examined the dish. Each strip was made up of five different layers!

"I can taste shank of lamb, ear of piglet, veal kidney and . . ." The beggar closed his eyes as he savoured each mouthful.

"I'll bow to you if you can identify the others!" Lotus grinned.

"Rabbit saddle . . . and . . . thigh of water deer!"

"Amazing!" She clapped and cheered.

Guo Jing could not believe how much effort she had put into each tiny strip. He was also full of admiration for Count Seven Hong for being able to distinguish the five ingredients.

"Pork and lamb bring out one flavour, water deer and veal another," Hong mused. "I can't work out how many there are in this dish alone."

"Twenty-five, if we ignore the variations you get from layering the meats in different sequences." Lotus smiled. "This dish is called Who Hears the Plum Blossom Fall While the Flute Plays? Five kinds of meat, the same as the number of petals on a plum blossom, and the strip is shaped like the dizi flute. It is meant to be a test of your palate, and your tongue affords you the title of Top Scholar."

Count Seven Hong moved on to the other bowl. "This broth is too precious to be devoured." He scooped up a few cherries, tasted them and – ah! – gasped with delight.

Refreshing lotus leaf, delicate bamboo shoot, honeyed cherry – their flavours are unmistakeable, Count Seven thought, as he helped himself to a few more cherries. He chewed with his eyes closed. What is the fruit stuffed with? It tastes meaty. Fowl. It has to be . . .

"Partridge?" he said out loud. "No . . . spotted dove!"

He opened his eyes and saw that Lotus had raised her thumb in agreement.

"What outlandish name have you given this lotus leaf, bamboo shoot, cherry and spotted dove soup?" the beggar asked.

"You missed out one ingredient."

"Oh, did I? You mean the petals?"

"Think about the five ingredients. The name is obvious."

"This old beggar doesn't like riddles. Just tell me, lass."

"Well, I'll give you a clue. Think of the Book of Songs."

Count Seven waved frantically. "That's no use. This old beggar doesn't know the first thing about books."

"Floral like a visage, cherry-red lips – that's a pretty lady, right?"

"Oh, Beauty Broth?"

Lotus shook her head. "The bamboo is upright and resilient, and, though the lotus grows in mud, its flowers are clean and pure. These are the qualities of a gentleman."

"Gentleman's Soup?"

"We're still missing the dove. Think about the first poem in the Book of Songs:

"Coo, coo, the doves sing from the river isle,

The fair maiden is perfect for the lord.

"The dish is called Made for Each Other Broth."

Count Seven bellowed with laughter. "Your creation certainly lives up to its peculiar name. I wonder what sort of eccentric man fathered a funny lass like you. I must say, this is in every way superior to the cherry broth I tried ten years ago, made by the chefs of the imperial household."

"Tell me about their dishes; maybe I can recreate some for you."

Count Seven Hong first satisfied his belly before turning his thoughts to a reply. "There was plenty of wonderful cooking, but nothing as good as this. Well, actually, they did have one outstanding creation, called Contrast of the Five Treasures. I don't know how it's made, though."

"You were treated to dinner by the Emperor?" Guo Jing asked.

"Yes, but he knew nothing about it. I made myself at home on the rafters of the imperial kitchens for three months. I tasted each course prepared for the Emperor. If I liked it, I kept the whole plate. I let him eat what I didn't care for. They thought they were being haunted by the fox demon." Count Seven Hong cackled at the memory.

Amazed by the lengths their new friend would go to for good food, Lotus picked her way through the leftovers while Guo Jing shovelled down four helpings of rice.

Count Seven turned to Guo Jing. "You lucky lad – your little wife is the best cook in the world! Why, by the mother of heavens, did I not meet a girl with her skill when I was young?" He watched as the young man ate, then shook his head. "An ox munching on peonies. What a pity!"

Lotus giggled, but Guo Jing was merely confused. He had looked after many herds, growing up in Mongolia, but he had never seen or heard of a peony. He did not realise that the beggar was lamenting his lack of appreciation for gastronomy.

"I can tell both of you know some martial arts from your physique, and that you have worked out I practise the art too. The lass is clearly trying to entice me, with her cooking, into sharing my kung fu knowledge. It'd be rude of me not to show my appreciation of her culinary kindness. Come, follow me." He patted his tummy happily and headed outside with his gourd and the bamboo cane.

Guo Jing and Lotus followed Count Seven to a pine forest on the edge of the town.

"What do you want to learn?" the beggar asked Guo Jing.

Not the quickest thinker, Guo Jing was stuck for an answer. Besides, there were so many branches and schools of martial arts. How could this man possibly teach him anything he could name?

Lotus answered for him. "He gets annoyed because he can't beat me."

"I've never—"

Lotus cut him off with a withering look.

"How can that be? From the way he moves I can tell he has a sound foundation in internal kung fu," Count Seven laughed. "Show me what you kids can do."

"I'm ready!" Lotus called from several paces away. But Guo Jing was still trying to figure out what to do, so she added, "If you don't show Uncle your skill, how is he going to teach you?"

"I hope the Master will provide guidance," Guo Jing said referentially.

"A little, perhaps. Not much."

"Here it comes!" Lotus cried, as she struck with her palm. He raised his hands to block, but Lotus's move had morphed into a sweeping kick aimed at his legs.

"Good move, lass!"

"Fight properly," Lotus whispered.

Guo Jing thrust and turned his palms in the Southern Mountain style his Fourth Shifu Woodcutter Nan had taught him, stirring the air noisily with each move. Lotus fought back earnestly, jinking, ducking and swerving. Her strikes grew faster. A flurry of arms and palms dazzled Guo Jing.

This was a system of attack Lotus's father, Apothecary Huang, had dreamed up while watching peach blossoms swirl in the wind. Cascading Peach Blossom Palm mixed strikes with feints: one sharp blow lurked amid five or eight defensive flourishes. Like flowers fluttering in a breeze, each move was graceful and unforced, yet sharp and sudden at the same time, like petals whipped by a gust.

Lotus had yet to master the sword-like strength that was key to the moves, and she was also holding back for fear of hurting her beloved.

But, to Guo Jing, her fluctuating tempo was enough to confound him. As she performed the flourishes with her arms, her palms struck at him from every conceivable angle. He was dazed by the technique's complexity and speed. He did not know how to defend himself.

Pak, pak, pak, pak! Four loud slaps fell on Guo Jing's shoulders, chest and back. Lotus beamed and leapt away.

"You don't need me to teach you anything, with a father like yours," Count Seven Hong said frostily.

How did he know? Lotus wondered. Papa said he'd never used Cascading Peach Blossom Palm in combat before. "You know my father?"

"He is the Heretic of the East and I'm the Beggar of the North. We've exchanged a few blows in our time."

"How do you know who I am?" Her respect for the beggar was growing. Not many people lived to tell the tale after fighting her father.

"Look in the mirror. Look at your eyes, your nose. He's not as good-looking, or else he would have plunged the world into chaos. I thought you looked familiar, and then your kung fu revealed the rest. I've never seen these moves, but they smack of Peach Blossom Island. Only your father could have come up with something like that, and I bet he named the dishes too."

"You think my father is a martial master?"

"He is certainly formidable, but perhaps not quite the greatest in the world."

"You must be the greatest, then."

"Not necessarily. It was years ago, now, when the five of us sparred at the summit of Mount Hua. We fought for seven days and seven nights, and, in the end, we all had to admit that Central Divinity was foremost among us."

"Who is he?"

"Didn't your father tell you about him?"

"He only told me a little. Whenever I pressed him for more, he'd say that the martial world was full of ill dealings not fit for a girl's ears, and then he'd clam up. He rarely spoke to me about the wulin, and then one day he shouted at me to be gone, so I ran away . . ." Lotus trailed off and lowered her head, once again upset by the memory of her last encounter with her father.

"That old monster."

"Hey, he's still my papa!"

Count Seven chuckled. "It's a shame no nice girl wanted to marry me, because I'm a beggar. If I had a good daughter like you, I'd never throw her out."

"That's for sure; otherwise, who'd cook for you?"

"That's true." He sighed, suddenly lamenting that he had no-one in his life to help him satisfy the epicure within. After a pause, he resumed his tale. "Central Divinity was the founder of the Quanzhen Sect. His name was Double Sun Wang Chongyang. It's hard to say who is the greatest, now he's gone."

"I knew three Quanzhen monks: a Qiu, a Wang and a Ma. Useless old cow muzzles! They're utter shams. They all got poisoned after a couple of moves."

"Really? They're Wang Chongyang's disciples. I've heard that Qiu Chuji is the strongest martially, but I doubt any of them could match their martial uncle, Zhou Botong."

"Elder Ma did speak of a martial uncle once, but he never mentioned the Venerable Elder's title," Guo Jing said.

Neither Count Seven nor Guo Jing had noticed Lotus's reaction to the name Zhou Botong. She was about to speak, but then thought better of it.

"He hasn't got a title, because he's not a monk! Heavens, you are a fool, aren't you? I bet your genius of a father-in-law isn't keen on you." Count Seven Hong's jibes reduced Guo Jing to tongue-tied splutters. It had never crossed the young man's mind who his father-in-law might turn out to be, and he knew he had better keep his mouth shut for now.

"Papa hasn't met him yet. But, if you'd give him some guidance, I'm sure Papa will like him," Lotus said, before adding coyly, "As a courtesy to you."

"You can't sweet-talk me into teaching your stupid husband anything! Only you would treat this dullard like some treasure! Trying to lick my boots to get your way!" The beggar was just warming up. "Let me be clear. I don't take on students, and who wants to teach such a dumb lad? You little knave! You haven't picked up one-tenth of your father's kung fu, but you've inherited every drop of his connivance."

Lotus blushed and lowered her head, embarrassed to see her ploy exposed so easily. She had not expected the glutton to be this sharp and she did not like being lectured, so she walked away.

She had never been that interested in kung fu training; she had not even bothered to learn much from her own father, so why would she be interested in the martial tricks of this beggar? She had been thinking of Guo Jing. She was angry his shifus had called her a she-demon and it had upset her to see him cowering before the Freaks and those smelly monks, like a mouse among cats. She had thought, perhaps, Count Seven Hong could toughen him up by teaching him some new martial skills.

"He's quite a character," Guo Jing said when he caught up with her.

Lotus heard the rustle of leaves overhead. Count Seven must have skimmed around the woods and hidden himself up a tree to eavesdrop on us, she thought. She answered Guo Jing, projecting her voice more than usual. "He's a good man. His kung fu is much stronger than Papa's."

"How do you know?"

"Papa told me. He said the only person that could overpower him was the Divine Vagrant Nine Fingers, Count Seven Hong. He said that he much desired another chance to spar with Master Hong, but it was impossible to track him down."

Count Seven Hong suspected they had been sent by Apothecary Huang to steal his martial secrets, but he could not help but feel a little pleased with himself at the news that the Heretic regarded his skills so highly. He had no idea Lotus was making it all up.

"I've barely scratched the surface of Papa's kung fu," Lotus continued. "You know me: anything to avoid hard work. I'm sure if Master Hong gave me some pointers, it would be even better than being taught by Papa. I feel so bad that I upset him."

She started to weep. It was all an act, at first, but soon her mind drifted to her mother's early death and the estrangement from her father, and all at once she found that she was really crying. Guo Jing's attempt to comfort her only made the tears flow faster.

"I remember Papa once said that . . ." Lotus choked out the words between sobs. "That Master Hong has gained incomparable kung fu skills . . . on a level unheard of before or since . . . and that even Wang Chongyang of the Quanzhen Sect was wary of him. His speciality is called . . . It's called . . . It's on the tip of my tongue. Anyway, I was going to beg him to teach you it . . ."

Lotus was making everything up. She assumed that Count Seven Hong would have such a particular martial move in his repertoire.

The beggar could not stand it any longer and jumped down. "It's called the Eighteen Dragon-Subduing Palms!"

Startled, the young couple stumbled back a few steps.

Guo Jing was genuinely surprised, while Lotus continued to spin her tale. "Count Seven, how did you end up in that tree? I can't believe I've forgotten the name of your kung fu. Papa always talks about it! It's the martial technique he admires the most."

"I thought your papa considered himself the greatest, now that Wang Chongyang is dead, but I guess even he has to speak the truth from time to time!" Count Seven said gleefully, before turning to Guo Jing. "Your kung fu foundations are as good as the girl's; you lose out when it comes to technique. Lass, go back to the inn."

Now that everything was going according to plan, Lotus left the two men, with a spring in her step.

2

"KNEEL!" COUNT SEVEN POINTED TO THE GROUND. "SWEAR you'll never teach anyone anything I've taught you, without my permission. And that includes your clever little wife."

Guo Jing knew he could deny Lotus nothing she asked of him, so he said, "Count Seven, I don't think I should learn from you."

"Why?" Such a refusal was a first.

"I would be doing you wrong if I taught her at her request, but I'd be doing her wrong if I refused."

"You may be slow, but your head's screwed on right." The beggar chuckled in approval. "I'll teach you one move: Haughty Dragon Repents. Anyway, I doubt Apothecary Huang would come down from his high horse for long enough to learn from you. The foundations of our kung fu are polar opposites: I could never master his and he could never master my palm strikes."

Count Seven Hong bent slightly from the left knee and raised his right arm, keeping it a little crooked at the elbow. He drew a circle with the right palm, exhaled and thrust it forward. His hand swept in the direction of a nearby pine tree. The trunk snapped with a loud crack.

Guo Jing was amazed by the force contained within this one simple movement of the arm.

"The tree can't move, but people can. The key is to make sure your opponent has nowhere to turn, no way to block. Then, one little push. Crack! They will snap like the tree."

The beggar repeated the movement twice before explaining patiently the breathing techniques vital to summoning internal strength, how to convert this strength into the external force of the palm thrust, and how to initiate and conclude the move. He stressed that the key to it, and its most difficult aspect, was not the expulsion of energy, but its retrieval.

Guo Jing was not a quick learner, but the simplicity of the movement suited his character, and his solid foundation in neigong inner strength was of great help. After about four hours, he began to grasp the basics.

"Your lass fights mostly with feints. You can never guess whether the next move is real or not. And you can't win if you're running blindly after her. She'll always be faster. The only way is to ignore whatever she's doing. Every move that comes your way – feint or real – you answer with a Haughty Dragon Repents. She'll see its power and she'll have to drop her charade."

"And then?"

"You think she can block it?"

"I don't want to hurt her!"

Count Seven rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Do you know why this kung fu is so special? Because it doesn't just blunder forward, it can be pulled back. It can be a blow or a caress!"

Guo Jing made a mental note not to show Lotus the move until he had mastered how to pull it back.

"If you don't believe me, try it yourself!"

Guo Jing picked the smallest tree and settled into the starting stance. Exhaling, he pushed. The tree began to shake a little.

"Why are you shaking the tree? Are you trying to catch squirrels? Pick pine cones?"

Guo Jing blushed and laughed nervously at Count Seven's frustration.

"I told you already, you need to make sure your opponent has nowhere to turn, no way to block. It's not that your thrust was weak, but it shook the tree and that took the sting out of your attack. Work on how to hit the tree without it shaking, then practise how to snap the trunk."

"So, I have to do it so quickly and suddenly that my opponent has no time to react," Guo Jing said out loud to himself, in a moment of epiphany.

"Obviously! You've been sweating over the move for half a day and you only just realised? You really haven't got much in there, have you?" Count Seven tapped the side of his skull in exasperation. "Remember the name: Haughty Dragon Repents. The essence of the move is not about being 'haughty', it's in the 'repent'. Anyone with a few muscles can muster up fast, brute force. Do you think that's enough to win Apothecary Huang's approval?

"'The haughty dragon repents, what waxes must wane.' Propel and withdraw. For each palm thrust you launch, you must have at least twice the strength reserved in your body. When you understand what 'repent' means in action, then you will have grasped about a third of what this move is about. It's like a vintage wine: smooth on the palette, a powerful kick at the end. This is 'repent'.

"It's the same with everything in this world: once at the peak, the only way forward is down. Dragon-Subduing Palm is rooted in the I'Ching: 'From prosperity's peak, adversity grows; from adversity's trough, prosperity climbs.' That's the theory underlying Haughty Dragon Repents. You reserve your strength for the descent, before you even reach the climax. That is why it is a technique that can never be defeated. How often do you hear that? Even if you lose, it's no big deal, because you've got plenty of power left in reserve."

Seeing confusion etched on Guo Jing's face, Count Seven Hong changed tack. "When I first started, I thought, if I put more energy into the thrust, surely it would make it better, so I channelled more and more strength into it. Suddenly, my shifu slapped me very hard in the face and said, 'The spirit of this move is the exact opposite of a bull running into a wall. You may be able to summon a force of tens of thousands of jin in one move, but you will always reach your limit. A skilled opponent will attack you the moment your strength is drained. Then all it takes is a nudge to overpower you.'

"Haughty Dragon Repents is the cornerstone of the Eighteen Dragon-Subduing Palms. If you master this, the rest will come naturally. The character 'haughty', here, means fearsome, mighty, spirited. A dragon soaring high in the sky. Fangs and claws glistening. It can't possibly be more frightening, more majestic. And therefore, from this point, it can only dwindle, slow down, fall.

"The character 'repent' is a reminder of the saying, 'After might and hardiness, decline and weakness come.' A ship sailing at full speed, say. It may be fast, but it's also at its most vulnerable should it collide.

"I'm teaching you this because I can see that you are honest and loyal, I can tell you always put others first. This is not a move used to intimidate or subjugate, but rather to get you out of a tight corner, to save yourself."

"I don't want to kill anybody, but I would like to avoid getting killed!" Guo Jing said.

"Good lad." The beggar patted the young man on the shoulder. "You may not be the smartest, but your temperament is perfect for my kung fu. As you have no desire to hurt or kill, you will always hold something back when you channel your strength. This is what 'repent' means, and this is also why, the stronger the enemy, the stronger you will become, to the point where you can even subdue dragons, the strongest opponents of all. This kung fu can also be called Tiger Taming Palm, because the rationale behind it is the same. The hardest part is to find the balance between propelling and reserving. You can't hold back everything. There has to be something behind your strike."

Hong continued his explanation, but he doubted Guo Jing was grasping much of what he was saying. It took him years, after all.

"The theory behind this kung fu extends to how we live our lives. In our actions and our dealings, we should always leave room to turn, to retreat. You probably can't understand it fully, right now. That's fine. Just learn these passages. Their meaning will come to you eventually.

"The first one: 'Perceive before the heavens, and the skies shall not intervene; conceive after the heavens, and the celestial times will decide.'

"The second one: 'Haughty knows only of advance but not retreat, of existence but not demise, of gain but not loss. Is this the basis of a sage? Knowing when to advance, retreat, persist and desist, to be simultaneously upstanding and unerring – is that not the basis of a sage?' "

Count Seven Hong recited the passages slowly. When Guo Jing had memorised them, the older man said, "My clan's martial interpretation is different from Taoist understanding of these phrases. Laozi wrote, 'A master of warcraft once said, "I would rather lead a defence than launch an attack, I would rather retreat a foot than advance an inch." ' Taoist martial arts suggest a practitioner should first guard and protect, not attack. They believe in using suppleness to overcome firmness and toughness.

"Whereas, my clan, we adapt, we become firm or supple as the situation requires. It is about noting an opponent's flaws before they are revealed through the moves. Haughty Dragon Repents should be aimed at the cracks that are about to surface. If your opponent has already shown their weaknesses, then you must exploit their vulnerability.

"And when you launch a move, you don't just think about attacking, you must also keep your retreat in mind. You may be alive now, but you could be dead within moments. You must never forget that, though this one move may win you the fight, it can also cost you everything. We all want to come out on top, but losing is not the real catastrophe.

"After all, Haughty Dragon Repents will make sure you never end up screaming 'Mercy!' as someone pins you down and punches you in the face."

Guo Jing committed Count Seven's words to memory, without understanding much. He had always learned kung fu this way, cramming what he had been told into his head without questioning its purpose or meaning. He also knew that what would take an average person one morning to learn would take him ten days.

When he tried the move again, he paid special attention to reserving and retrieving his strength. The pine tree continued to sway after his first dozen palm thrusts, but, as he gained more control of his energy, the trunk only quivered. His palm was now red and swollen, especially along the sides, but he was not one to be deterred by a little pain.

Meanwhile, the tedium had put Count Seven Hong to sleep. The beggar was lying on the forest floor, snoring loudly.

Guo Jing drew a deep breath into the Elixir Field in his lower abdomen, thrust his hand forward then pulled back his strength immediately. He could feel the reserved energy in his body. Nothing happened. The tree did not move. He repeated the movement, keeping the force focused on the edge of his palm.

Crack! The tree fell.

"Wow!" Lotus Huang had appeared with a tiffin on her arm.

"Hmm . . . Delicious!" Count Seven Hong sniffed theatrically before he had even opened his eyes. He leapt up, snatched the food box and ripped off the lid, exclaiming with joy at the contents: smoked frogs' legs, eight-treasures duck and silver-thread rolls. His hands shuttled back and forth between the carrier and his mouth, making grunts of pleasure and praise as he swallowed the delicious meal. By the time he remembered Guo Jing, nothing but a pile of chewed bones remained.

"The rolls are delicious . . . Even better than the duck!" he said sheepishly.

"You haven't tried my best dishes yet," Lotus said.

"Tell me more!"

"There are too many to name. Stir-fried pak choi, steamed tofu, egg stew, slow-cooked white radishes, sliced belly of pork . . ."

Any connoisseur knows that it is only through the simplest dish that a chef's true skill is revealed. The same goes for the martial arts – a true master can perform magic in the most ordinary move. The dishes Lotus named were enough to make the glutton hungry again. "I'll get the ingredients for you right now. I've always said this lass is my favourite person."

Lotus chuckled at Count Seven's eagerness. "It's alright – you don't know what I need, anyway."

"Of course, of course," he said humbly.

Lotus went over to examine the tree Guo Jing had snapped in two. "I saw him break it with just a thrust of his palm. He's much too strong for me now."

"He will need a lot more practice. The trunk should break neatly. Look how it's all bent and splintered. This tree is tiny. Like a chopstick. No. More like a toothpick. He's still got a long way to go."

"But what if he hits me with it? I can't block a move like that!"

"I'd never do that!" Guo Jing protested.

"What do you propose, then?" Count Seven knew that Lotus was tricking him into teaching them more kung fu. And yet his stomach overruled his rational brain.

"Teach me how to beat him. Then I'll cook for you."

"It would be my pleasure! I'll teach you a set of moves I call Wayfaring Fist." Count Seven leapt into the air, darting high and low with grace and ease, his sleeves fluttering in a breeze of his own making.

Lotus watched intently, committing a good half of Wayfaring Fist to memory during Count Seven's initial demonstration alone. A couple of hours later, she had mastered all thirty-six moves. Now she tried the whole set together, with Hong. One started from the left and the other from the right. One light and elegant, like a swallow, the other fierce and quick, like an eagle. At the end of the thirty-sixth move, they landed at the same time, to loud cheers from Guo Jing, and exchanged a smile.

"The lass is a hundred times sharper than you!" Count Seven said.

"How does she memorise so much in a few short hours?" Guo Jing scratched his head. "If I try to learn a new move, the previous one immediately disappears out of my head."

The beggar chuckled. "This kung fu wouldn't suit you, it's true. You could memorise the moves, I don't doubt, but I imagine, when put together, they would better resemble the Distress Crawl. All bogged down and lumbering."

Guo Jing laughed in agreement.

"I learned the Wayfaring Fist in my youth. I dug it out now, for the lass, because it matched her style, but it doesn't fit with my current martial practice. I haven't used it in more than a decade."

"Poor Guo Jing," Lotus said. "Now I have the tools to beat him again, he must be very upset. Perhaps you could teach him a few more moves?"

"This simpleton hasn't even mastered the move I taught him this morning. Don't make him bite off more than he can chew. But, if you keep cooking for me, your wish may come true." Count Seven Hong laughed and headed back to the inn, leaving Guo Jing to practise in the woods until nightfall.

That evening, Lotus made stir-fried pak choi and steamed tofu. She hand-picked the most tender shoots of pak choi from the core and sizzled them in a hot wok with chicken fat and finely diced, deboned duck feet. She then sliced a whole leg of dry-cured ham in half and carved twenty-four holes into the flesh and filled them with perfectly sculpted balls of beancurd, before placing the tied ham into a steamer. Once it was cooked, the meat was discarded, since its flavours were infused into the tofu. Count Seven was dazzled by the depth of flavour in this simple dish, the name of which, Twenty-Four Bridges on a Full Moon Night, referenced a Tang-dynasty poem.

The Orchid Touch kung fu invented by Apothecary Huang had made Lotus's hands nimble and strong. Without such dexterity, it would be impossible to craft such tender tofu, which was liable to disintegrate upon touch, into perfect balls. Such a skill was comparable to the traditional craft of engraving an essay onto a grain of rice, or carving an olive pit into the shape of a boat. Of course, it would have been easy to simply cube the beancurd, but who ever heard of a square moon? The meal was a demonstration of martial skill as well as gastronomic flair.

3

SINCE GUO JING AND LOTUS HUANG HAD SET OUT ON THEIR wanderings, they had often shared the same room. However, now that they were in Count Seven Hong's company, they took separate chambers. Their sleeping arrangement piqued the beggar's curiosity. "Why aren't you sleeping side by side? Isn't that what couples do?"

"One more silly question and I won't cook for you," a blushing Lotus threatened.

"What? Did I say the wrong thing?" Count Seven laughed. "Oh dear, what an old fool I am. You're still dressed as a maiden. You two arranged your future together without your parents' consent or a matchmaker's promise, am I right? I bet you haven't even bowed to the heavens and earth! Don't worry, this old beggar will be your marriage broker. If your father refuses you, I will fight him for seven days and seven nights, or until he gives you his blessing."

Lotus had been worrying that her father would not like Guo Jing, but with Count Seven as go-between, their future together felt more secure. Thanking the martial master profusely, she resolved to put even more care into crafting the most exquisite dishes for him.

The next day, Guo Jing was back in the pine forest at the break of dawn to practise Haughty Dragon Repents. After twenty or so repetitions, he was drenched in sweat. Just as he was beginning to feel pleased with his progress, a voice broke his concentration.

"Shifu, we must have travelled more than thirty li by now."

"Indeed, both the strength in your legs and your pace have improved."

Guo Jing thought the second voice sounded familiar.

Four men burst through the trees, and Guo Jing's stomach sank. Striding at the head of the group was a white-haired man with a jarringly youthful face. Greybeard Liang, the Ginseng Immortal.

"Where do you think you're going?" Old Liang spotted Guo Jing trying to get away, and dashed after him. His three disciples spread out to close off Guo Jing's escape.

Guo Jing started to run using his fastest qinggong. I'll be fine if I can get to the inn, he told himself.

But Greybeard Liang's lead protégé was faster.

"Kneel, thief!"

He grabbed Guo Jing by the chest in a Power Grapple technique usually only found in China's north-eastern borderlands.

Guo Jing bent his left knee and raised his right arm until not quite straight. He traced a circle with his right hand, exhaled and pushed.

He aimed the Haughty Dragon Repents at his attacker's torso.

The man pulled back to block.

Crack! The bone in his arm snapped. The force of the thrust threw his body back several paces, where he crumpled in a heap.

The result amazed Guo Jing. He had not even used half of his strength.

He turned to run, but Greybeard Liang had already planted himself in his way. Guo Jing bent his knee and raised his arm again. Another Haughty Dragon Repents.

The older man ducked and rolled. The move was too powerful to counter head on.

While Old Liang was finding his footing, Guo Jing grabbed the chance to make one last dash for it. The inn was now in sight.

"Lotus, help! That man is here! The one who wants to drink my blood!"

"Don't worry! We'll teach him a lesson!" Lotus was keen to try out the Wayfaring Fist.

Before Guo Jing could chide Lotus for openly slighting their opponent, Greybeard Liang lunged with fearsome might. Guo Jing scrabbled together another Haughty Dragon Repents, forcing his attacker to twist left.

The Ginseng Immortal managed to dodge Guo Jing, but he still caught a glancing blow to his right arm. The pain halted him.

How can this boy's kung fu have improved so much in just a few weeks? My python's blood! Incensed by the thought, Greybeard Liang dived at Guo Jing again. He could not have known that Guo Jing was receiving guidance from one of the greatest martial masters of their day.

Guo Jing fought back with the same formidable thrust of his palm.

"Is that your only move?" The older man's confidence was returning.

"It's enough to hold you back!" Guo Jing responded, with another Haughty Dragon Repents.

Satisfied that the boy had revealed the extent of his kung fu, Greybeard Liang hopped to one side, then shifted his weight in the opposite direction, whirling around to land securely behind Guo Jing.

Guo Jing spun to face his attacker and settled into his opening stance. He was ready to launch another Haughty Dragon Repents, but his target was gone.

Old Liang was already behind him again. His fists shot towards the young man's back. Guo Jing turned. Within just three moves, the old man had Guo Jing spinning in circles.

The young man flapped his arms this way and that in a feeble attempt to protect his exposed back, then torso. There was no chance for him to launch another Haughty Dragon Repents.

"Let me deal with him!" Lotus flew up and landed between them, simultaneously thrusting with her left palm and kicking with her right foot. Guo Jing took two steps back to catch his breath.

Old Liang pulled in his chest and retaliated with a double punch. Lotus fought back with the Wayfaring Fist. Her interpretation was full of unexpected feints and twists, and yet she was unfamiliar with its power and unable to tap into the technique's full potential. Soon, she began to struggle. After all, Greybeard Liang had decades of combat experience. By this point, her Hedgehog Chainmail was her only real protection. Without it, she would have taken many punches and already be out of the fight.

Greybeard Liang's two remaining disciples, who had been helping their injured martial brother, cheered as their shifu steadily gained the upper hand.

Guo Jing was about to come to Lotus's aid when Count Seven Hong called from inside the inn, "His next move will be Rabid Dog Blocks the Way!"

Greybeard Liang had lowered himself into the horse-riding stance, with his feet apart and his fists raised. Count Seven Hong was right, he was about to launch a move known in the wulin as Fearsome Tiger Blocks the Way.

Count Seven knows the move before he even makes it! How does he do it? Lotus asked herself.

"His next one is Rancid Snake Fetches Water!" Hong's voice again.

Lotus knew he meant Blue Dragon Fetches Water, a forward punch that left the upper back unprotected. Armed with this knowledge, she darted in behind Old Liang and aimed a fist at his spine.

Already more than a foot off the ground, the older man threw himself forward at the last moment. If he had been a less experienced fighter, he would not have been able to dodge the blow.

The Ginseng Immortal tapped the ground with the tip of his foot and flipped upright. "Who presumes to predict my kung fu? Show your face!"

No answer.

Now that Count Seven Hong was watching over her, Lotus attacked with renewed confidence. Greybeard Liang fought back with his deadliest moves. Lotus quickly found herself in a tight corner once more.

"No need to fear!" the beggar called from his room. "The Bare-Arsed Monkey is Mounting the Tree!"

Chuckling, Lotus raised both fists over her head and smacked down hard. Greybeard Liang was about to vault high and strike in mid-air. But, if he followed through on his move, Gibbon Climbs the Tree, he would be jumping head first into her punch, so he wrenched sideways awkwardly.

When an opponent can predict one's kung fu in a fight, mortal danger awaits within a handful of moves. Luckily for Greybeard Liang, he was fighting a novice.

"Show your face, sir! Or I won't show mercy!" Greybeard Liang rained down a torrent of overlapping attacks, each move launched before the last one had connected, too fast for Count Seven to call them out. Even if he were able to, there would be no time for Lotus to react.

Hard pressed, Lotus's responses became jumbled as she scurried and scrambled out of harm's way. Guo Jing stepped up and launched a Haughty Dragon Repents.

Old Liang tapped his right foot and hopped away from Guo's thrust.

"Give him three more like that!" Lotus shouted as she ran back to the inn.

Guo Jing lowered into the opening stance once more and waited. The Haughty Dragon Repents was only set loose midway through one of Greybeard Liang's attacks.

Has he only got one move? The Ginseng Immortal was infuriated by the absurdity of the situation. And yet, it was enough to keep him at bay. There was no obvious way to overpower the young man.

Frustrated by this impasse, Greybeard Liang had an idea. He sprang with a roar of defiance, knowing Guo Jing would answer with his only move. Yet, this time, the older man spun mid-flight and flicked with his right wrist.

Three Bone-Piercing Needles. Coming straight at Guo Jing's chest, abdomen and hip.

The young man managed to scuttle out of the way, but his panicked retreat gave Liang the chance to charge. With lightning speed, he pinched the back of Guo Jing's neck.

Guo Jing elbowed back at him. But, somehow, Old Liang's chest was as soft as a bale of cotton.

Greybeard Liang had at last caught the boy who killed his precious python. He could take back what was his. He raised his arm, ready to discharge the death blow.

"Ginseng Codger, look what I've got!" Lotus cried from the inn.

Knowing that the young woman was full of tricks, he immobilised Guo Jing by jabbing his Shoulder Well pressure point, then looked up.

She had raised in one hand a bamboo cane as green and glossy as jadeite.

"Let him go!" Lotus demanded as she ambled over.

"Chief Hong . . ."

The old man was visibly dismayed. His arms dropped to his sides.

Guo Jing was free!

It had badly shaken Greybeard Liang to have his moves called out before he even initiated them. Now, the bamboo cane confirmed that the voice belonged to the one man he feared the most.

"The Divine Vagrant Nine Fingers Count Seven Hong wishes to know why you insist on behaving in such an abominable manner." Lotus held up the bamboo cane with both hands. "Explain yourself!"

The Ginseng Immortal sank to his knees. "Your humble servant had not realised that Chief Hong had graced this region with his presence. Your servant would never dream of attempting anything that might displease the chieftain."

Why is he so frightened? And why does he call him Chief Hong? Lotus tried to hide her surprise.

"What should be your punishment?"

"I entreat my lady to speak a few kind words on my behalf. Greybeard Liang regrets his trespasses and begs Chief Hong for mercy."

"I will say one kind word and no more. You must never trouble the two of us again."

"Your humble servant has offended my lady and lord out of ignorance. Rest assured that I shall never be so reckless again."

Satisfied, Lotus took Guo Jing's hand and disappeared inside the inn. Count Seven Hong was seated at the table, wine cup and chopsticks in hand, busying himself with four plates piled generously with the finest food.

"His knees are nailed to the ground," Lotus reported gleefully.

"Do what you want with him. He won't fight back now."

Guo Jing looked out of the window. Greybeard Liang was kneeling stiffly; his three disciples had joined him in this show of repentance. Guo Jing was starting to feel sorry for them. "We should let him go."

"Heavens, what's the matter with you? You were defeated and I rescued you. And now you want to let him go?" Count Seven Hong fell into a thoughtful silence. "Actually, forgiveness is the higher virtue. It is the underlying idea of Haughty Dragon Repents."

"I'll send him away." Lotus picked up the bamboo cane and headed outside once more.

Greybeard Liang was still on his knees, his deferential stance barely hiding the whiff of panic.

"Count Seven Hong would have taken your life today for your misdeeds, but Guo Jing is merciful and he entreated on your behalf." At this, she smacked his backside with the cane. "Shoo!"

"Chief Hong, please grant me an audience. Please allow me to thank you personally for your magnanimity," Greybeard Liang called out in the direction of the inn.

Silence.

Eventually, Guo Jing stepped outside, waving for him to be quiet. "Count Seven Hong is sleeping. He should not be disturbed."

Greybeard Liang glared at the young couple, climbed back onto his feet and left with his disciples.

Count Seven Hong was snoring, face down on the table, by the time Guo Jing and Lotus returned inside. Lotus shook him lightly by the shoulder. The beggar yawned and stretched.

"Your little bamboo cane is very powerful. Can I have it? You don't use it, anyway."

He grinned. "A beggar can't do without his cane. Or else how do I chase the dogs away? Not for nothing does it have the name Dog-Beating Cane."

Lotus would not be brushed off so easily. "Your kung fu is so strong, and your voice alone instills fear. What do you need the cane for?"

"Make something nice for me and I'll tell you the whole story."

Lotus disappeared into the kitchen and soon re-emerged with three more delicious plates.

"You've heard the saying, 'Things gather by kind and people band together by groups', haven't you?" Hong began, waving his wine cup while chewing a mouthful of dry-cured pork knuckle. "Landlords belong to one class. Highwaymen another. Beggars—"

"You're the Chief of the Beggar Clan!"

"Indeed! Beggars are abused and looked down upon, even by dogs. If we don't work together, we can't survive. There are very few of us who don't need to belong, deep down. Grand figures, like your father. He can get by on his own and no-one dares cross him. Our northern folk are ruled by the Jin, for now, and those in the south by the Song Emperor, but beggars of both realms are—"

"Ruled by you!" Lotus completed the sentence for him.

Count Seven nodded, with a smile. "This cane is the emblem, the sign that I am Chief of the Beggar Clan, like the Emperor's jade seal or an official's golden stamp. It's several hundred years old, passed down through generations of chieftains since the end of the Tang dynasty."

"Thank the heavens you didn't give it to me, then." Lotus stuck her tongue out. "It would be horrible if the world's beggars came after me, pestering me with all their troubles."

"You have the right of it. I love food and I hate dealing with all their petty complaints. It's a burden, being the chieftain, but I can't find anyone to take my place."

"That's why Greybeard Liang was so afraid of you. If every beggar put a flea into the old Codger's hair, he'd scratch himself half to death!"

The room erupted in laughter.

"But that isn't the reason he fears me," Count Seven Hong said, after some time.

"What is it, then?" Lotus asked.

"About twenty years ago, I happened upon him while he was up to no good . . ."

"Tell us!" Lotus loved a good story.

"Well . . . the Codger fell for some evil notion . . . of gathering yin to replenish yang. He captured a lot of maidens and . . . deflowered them in the hope of gaining immortality."

"What do you mean?"

The beggar struggled for words. He could not have known that Lotus's mother died in childbirth, nor that she had grown up around male and female servants who had been forbidden to speak by her father. She knew nothing of the physical matters that connected a man and a woman. She thought that a husband and a wife would always stay together, like she and Guo Jing would. She knew the sweetness she felt around Guo Jing, and the pain when they were forced apart. But what happened between the sheets . . .?

"Did he kill them?" she pressed on.

"No . . . For a woman, it's a fate worse than death. You've heard the saying, 'Grave is the loss of chastity, trifling is the loss of life', right?"

"Did he cut off their ears and noses?"

"Fie! Stop pestering me! Ask your mother!"

"I don't have one."

"Oh . . . Then you'll find out on your wedding night."

She finally understood – that act of shame – but her curiosity was not bound by modesty. "What happened next?"

Count Seven sighed, relieved that she did not press him further for the details of Liang's misdeeds. "I caught him and gave him a good beating, before pulling out his whole head of hair. I made him send the girls home and swear never to do it again. He knew, if I caught him at it one more time, I'd make him beg for death. I heard that he has stayed away from it since, so perhaps I was right to let him go. Has he got hair now?"

"A head full!" Lotus chuckled. "It must have hurt."

With a laugh, Count Seven Hong turned back to the more important business of eating. When they had finished the meal, Lotus said, "I won't take your cane, even if you give it to me. But we won't be travelling together long, anyway. What if we bump into him again? 'I backed down to please Chief Hong,' he'll say, 'but, now you're alone, I'll avenge myself and pull out all your hair!' What should we do then? Haughty Dragon Repents is powerful, but Guo Jing only learned this one move from you. I bet you the Codger will tell people, 'Chief Hong's kung fu is powerful, but he hasn't got much to teach others.'"

"I know what you're trying to do. You won't be short-changed if you keep the tasty food coming."

Lotus took Count Seven by the hand and led him and Guo Jing back to the forest. The beggar taught Guo Jing the second move of the Dragon-Subduing Palm – Dragon Soars in the Sky. It was three days before Guo Jing grasped the essential technique of springing up and using his own momentum to strike down, while Count Seven was treated to a dozen new delicacies by Lotus, who no longer pestered him to teach her kung fu.

4

A MONTH PASSED. BY NOW, GUO JING HAD LEARNED FIFTEEN out of the Dragon-Subduing Palm's eighteen moves, from Haughty Dragon Repents all the way to Dragon in the Field.

Dragon-Subduing Palm had long been regarded as the ultimate external kung fu, invincible and indomitable. During the Northern Song period, at the turn of the first millennium, Xiao Feng, then Chief of the Beggar Clan, staged a contest with the heroes of the martial world. Few could withstand more than three moves of his Dragon-Subduing Palm, and no-one had ever found a way to overcome its might. At the time, there were twenty-eight moves, but Xiao Feng and his sworn brother, Hollow Bamboo, later distilled it down to eighteen, making this already matchless kung fu even more impregnable. Decades later, Count Hong used the repertoire to win the respect of the martial Greats at the summit of Mount Hua.

Count Seven Hong only intended to teach Guo Jing two or three moves, more than enough to keep the young man alive against any opponents. Yet the culinary magic conjured by Lotus Huang had ensnared the gourmet in Count Seven Hong. He could not find the will to tear himself away. The young man might be slow on the uptake, but he compensated with persistence, practising night and day. He had already grasped the essence of the moves; the rest would come as his internal strength and control grew. In this short space of time, Guo Jing had become a formidable martial artist.

One day, as the three of them were eating breakfast, Count Seven Hong said, "It's time to go our separate ways."

"But I've still got lots of dishes I want to cook for you," Lotus replied.

"As the saying goes, 'There's no such thing as a never-ending banquet', but there are more delicacies than one can eat in a lifetime. I've never taken on any disciples or taught any one fighter for more than three days. Yet we've spent more than thirty together. If I stay any longer, I'll be in big trouble."

"Why's that?"

"You'll have learned all my tricks."

"Wouldn't it be nice to teach him all eighteen moves?"

"Fie! Nice for you, perhaps, but not for me!" Count Seven Hong picked up his gourd and left without another word.

Guo Jing hastened after Count Seven, but the beggar's lightness kung fu was extraordinary. In the blink of an eye, he had vanished out of sight.

"Master Hong! Master Hong!" Guo Jing ran into the pine forest. Lotus followed, calling his name too.

Count Seven stopped and came back to meet them. "Why are you following me? I'll never teach you again!"

"Sir, your student is deeply grateful and has no wish to test your patience. Please allow me to thank you for your generosity." Guo Jing kneeled and kowtowed, knocking his head audibly on the ground before standing up.

"Stop! I taught you in order to satisfy my belly. You've paid me fair and square. I'm not your shifu and you're not my disciple." Hong dropped to his knees and began to kowtow.

Flabbergasted by such an unorthodox response, Guo Jing kneeled once more. Count Seven caught him mid-motion and jabbed at the pressure point in his armpit. Guo Jing was frozen. The beggar then kowtowed at Guo Jing four times before he let him move again.

"Never speak of your kowtows. You are not my protégé."

Guo Jing understood that Count Seven meant what he said, and kept quiet.

"You've been so kind to us. I was hoping to cook for you again, when we next meet, but . . . I fear . . . it won't be possible." Lotus was starting to sound teary.

"What do you mean?"

"There's a host of dangerous men out there who wish to do us harm. The Ginseng Codger is just one of them. They mean to kill us!"

"We all die sooner or later."

"That's not what I'm afraid of," Lotus said with a shake of her head. "They're going to find out that I cooked for you and, in exchange, you taught me kung fu. They'll force me to make Floating Moon in the Fragrance of Twilight or When Will the Moonlit River Shine on Her? – delicacies you haven't tried yet. What an insult to your name!"

Count Seven Hong knew she was bluffing – provoking him, in fact – but the thought that someone else might taste dishes he had yet to try upset him all the same.

"Who are these men?" Hong asked.

"The Dragon King Hector Sha, for one. The way he eats is most disgusting. Spitting everywhere. Onto my beautiful dishes!"

"Hector Sha is a nobody," Count Seven snorted. "Your silly lad will beat him easily, in a year or two."

Lotus then named Lama Supreme Wisdom Lobsang Choden Rinpoche and Tiger Peng, the Butcher of a Thousand Hands, who were both dismissed by Count Seven Hong as nobodies too.

The last name Lotus mentioned piqued the beggar's interest. Listening closely to Lotus's explanation of his moves and stance, Count Seven nodded and said, "It's him, then."

"Is he scary?" Lotus was surprised by how grave his expression turned upon hearing the name of Gallant Ouyang, Master of White Camel Mount.

"Another nobody. But his uncle, the old Venom—"

"Surely he can't beat you?"

Count Seven fell silent.

"We were about equal, but that was two decades ago . . ." he said at last. "He works hard on his kung fu, whereas I just like to eat. But, then again, it's not easy beating this old beggar."

"I'm sure he couldn't."

"It's hard to say . . . We'll see. If the Viper's spawn wants to make trouble for you, then we must be careful. I'll stay with you for another fortnight, on the condition that you won't cook me the same dish twice, or else I'll slap my arse and go. And you must serve me your very, very best. So, if you are caught one day, they won't get better food than me."

Delighted, Lotus put her heart into preparing every meal – even the side dishes and staples were unique. Pot stickers, siu mai, steamed dumplings, boiled dumplings, wontons, pak choi rice, fried rice, rice soup, rice cake, flower rolls, rice noodles, shredded tofu, bean noodles, scallion pancake, garlic chive buns . . . Count Seven Hong also honoured his part of the bargain, honing their reactions and giving them guidance on self-defence during combat. And yet, he did not quite get round to teaching Guo Jing the last three moves of Dragon-Subduing Palm. He did continue to help the young man consolidate his understanding of the first fifteen moves, which only increased the potency of the kung fu he had learned from the Six Freaks of the South.

Count Seven Hong was a vast repository of martial arts techniques in every style known to the wulin. He selected the more quirky ones for Lotus, to keep her amused. They were full of dizzying flourishes, to be sure, but none of them could overpower opponents as effectively as the straightforward Dragon-Subduing Palm.

One evening, at dusk, Guo Jing was finishing up his daily practice in the woods as Count Seven Hong lounged on the forest floor, half watching and half dozing, and Lotus Huang foraged for pine nuts nearby. She had already begun naming the dish she was going to prepare for dinner: Three Friends of Winter, if she matched the pine nuts with bamboo shoots and salted plums; or Longevity Pine and Crane, if she added chicken broth to the three ingredients. Her deliberations were making Count Seven Hong's mouth water.

Hmm! The beggar huffed and hopped onto his feet. He stooped and swept his arms through the undergrowth. When he straightened up, he had a snake pinched between the thumb and index finger of his right hand. Two-foot long and bright green. He pushed Lotus lightly with his other hand, sending her stumbling back.

"Snakes!" Lotus yelped.

The shrub rustled. More serpents reared their heads. Count Seven Hong brandished his bamboo cane. Each flick of his wrist felled an unsuspecting snake instantly, as he struck it seven inches from the head.

Lotus cheered. But, even as she did so, Count Seven noticed two vipers slithering up her dress. At that moment, they lodged their fangs into her back. He was familiar with the venom of the green tree viper. There was no time to lose if he was going to neutralise their lethal poison.

A crescendo of hisses. From all directions. The grass had come alive. Flickering and slithering.

Count Seven Hong grabbed Lotus's belt and took Guo Jing's hand. Using his fastest qinggong, he flew out of the woods until they reached the inn.

"How are you feeling?" He was surprised by how unaffected Lotus seemed to be by the snake bites.

"I'm fine." She smiled.

Guo Jing now noticed the snakes dangling from her back and tugged at one of them. Count Seven shouted – "Stop!" – but he had already pulled it off.

"Of course, your father gave you his Hedgehog Chainmail." The beggar looked at the snake that was still stuck to Lotus's back.

Just as Guo Jing was about to remove it, a mass of the creatures emerged from the forest. Count Seven took a yellowish cake of herbal medicine from his shirt and chewed it vigorously. Hundreds of luminous green snakes were slithering towards them. Countless more were spilling out between the trees.

Guo Jing grabbed Count Seven Hong's hand. "Let's go inside!"

Ignoring Guo Jing, Count Seven pulled the gourd from his back, unplugged it and took a big gulp of wine. He gurgled loudly, mixing the wine with the chewed herbs. Then he pursed his lips and a jet of wine shot out from between them like an arrow. Turning from left to right, he sprayed a perfect arc of wine across the ground before him.

The scent instantly put the nearest snakes into a stupor and they were paralysed on the spot. Those further back hesitated, then turned on their tails, tangling with the thousands more swarming in the opposite direction.

Shrill calls emanated from the trees and three men in bright white robes emerged. They each waved and jabbed a wooden staff, more than two zhang in height, through the sea of snakes, herding them like cattle. Lotus found it amusing at first, but soon she began to feel as if hair had sprouted from her throat and she was overcome by nausea.

Count Seven Hong flicked a snake up with his cane and caught it between the index and middle fingers of his left hand. He then sliced open its belly with the extra sharp nail of his little finger and pulled out a green blob.

"Swallow this whole. Don't chew. It's very bitter."

Lotus gulped it down and felt better at once.

"Do you feel sick?" she asked Guo Jing.

He shook his head. He had not noticed that the snakes were avoiding him as he fled from the forest. He did not realise that the blood of Greybeard Liang's python, which he had sucked in a desperate attempt to free himself from its stranglehold in the Jin Prince's palace, had imbued him with a scent repellent to serpents. Not only that, but it made him immune to most venoms.

"They keep the snakes!" Lotus squealed in alarm.

Count Seven nodded, his eyes fixed on the three men.

The snake herders were incensed by the beggar's audacity. How dare he kill their snake and give its gall bladder to the girl! They whistled a command to settle their flock and started marching, side by side, towards them.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" one of them bellowed.

"Are you?" Lotus retorted.

Count Seven patted her on the shoulder in approval.

The snake herder nearest Lotus swung his staff at her. He looked jaundiced and past the prime of his youth, yet he wielded the weapon with strength.

Count Seven Hong tapped his cane lightly against the man's staff, halting it in mid-air. He then turned his wrist and cried, "Shoo!"

The man sailed backwards and landed flat on his back, crushing at least a dozen snakes. He too must have taken a herb mixture, as the snakes refrained from attacking him.

Frightened by the unexpected turn of events, his companions stumbled back several paces. "What's going on?" one of them managed to stutter.

Meanwhile, the first man tried to scrabble to his feet, but he was still winded from his fall. He crashed to the ground once more, killing even more snakes. Grabbing the tip of the staff offered by his fellow herder, he hauled himself upright. Together, they retreated to stand among the snakes.

"Who are you?" the jaundiced man cried.

Count Seven Hong laughed, ignoring the question. Once again, it was Lotus who spoke. "Why are you herding these snakes?"

The snake herders exchanged a look and one of them made as if to respond. Just then, a fourth man emerged from the woods. Dressed in a snowy white scholar's robe, the man walked among the serpents as if they were not there, lazily wafting his gentleman's folding fan. The creatures parted as he approached. Guo Jing and Lotus watched in astonishment.

The snake herders approached the newcomer deferentially and whispered a few words, stealing glances at Count Seven Hong. A flash of surprise crossed the scholar's face. He collected himself immediately and nodded at his men.

He put his hands together in greeting and addressed Count Seven Hong. "Pardon my servants; their ignorance has caused offence and I am grateful for your forbearance." He then turned to Lotus. "What good fortune that my lady is here. I have been searching far and wide for you."

"Count Seven, he is a nasty man; you must teach him a lesson." Lotus ignored him completely.

The beggar nodded. "There are specific rules and standards governing the herding of snakes. And none of them permits it in broad daylight."

"These snakes have travelled a long way and they are famished. It is not possible to abide by the rules always." The scholar spoke politely, but his demeanour was defiant.

"How many people have fallen prey to your creatures?" Count Seven asked.

"Hardly any; we only herd them through the wilderness."

"Your name's Ouyang, isn't it?"

"My lady must have told you. May I ask the Elder's name?"

"His name alone will leave you cowering in fear," Lotus interjected.

The man was not bothered by the insult. Instead, he cocked his head and leered at her.

"You're Viper Ouyang's son, aren't you?"

"How dare you use our Master's name, beggar!" one of the herders cried.

Count Seven Hong tapped his cane, flew up and swooped down like a bird of prey.

Smack, smack, smack!

Another tap of the cane and the beggar glided back to the inn. His feet never touched the ground.

"Teach me, please!" Lotus was amazed.

The men groaned in pain and cradled their chins. Count Seven had dislocated their jaws using a Split Muscles Lock Bones move.

"Sir, you know my uncle?" The scholar was shocked by the display.

"I haven't seen the Venom for more than twenty years. I trust he still lives?"

Furious as he may have been, Gallant Ouyang knew his kung fu was no match for the beggar's; he must tread carefully. "Uncle often jokes that he intends to cling to life long enough to see all his friends meet their end."

"Think you're smart enough to insult me?" Count Seven laughed, then pointed at the snakes. "What are you doing with these precious little creatures?"

"This is my first trip to the Central Plains; I picked them up along the way to keep me entertained—"

"Enough of your lies," Lotus cut in. "Surely the women you brought provide entertainment enough."

Gallant Ouyang unfolded his fan and tapped it against his chest.

"My heart quivers for you alone,

You are the reason for these heavy sighs."

Unimpressed by his quoting from the Book of Songs, Lotus pulled a face. "I'd rather you didn't think of me at all."

Gallant Ouyang was pleased just to have elicited a reaction. For a moment, his soul faltered and his voice disappeared.

"You and your uncle may tyrannise the Western Regions, but if you think your philanderings will be tolerated on the Central Plains, you are wrong! But, as a courtesy to your uncle, I shall let you pass in peace today. Be off with you!" Count Seven said.

Gallant Ouyang knew he should bite his tongue and walk away, but he was not in the habit of letting slights pass. "Allow me to take my leave of the Master. Should you not fall prey to ill health or calamity in the next few years, it would be my honour to receive you at White Camel Mount."

"A stripling like you dares to challenge me?" Count Seven chuckled. "This old beggar never makes dates with anyone. There is no enmity between your uncle and I, nor do we fear each other – we had a good fight twenty years ago. He couldn't overpower me, but neither could I defeat him. We don't need to meet again." Suddenly, the good humour disappeared from the beggar's face. "Get out of my sight!"

Gallant Ouyang was taken aback. I haven't mastered a third of Uncle's kung fu. If this man's claim is true, then I'd better keep my distance. A wise man does not walk knowingly into a swamp.

So, with gritted teeth, he reset the jaws of his men and stole one last look at Lotus Huang before retreating into the woods.

Shrill whistles were once more heard echoing between the trees, but now they were muffled with many a Yi! and Ah! as the three men in white cradled their bruised faces. The snakes heeded the call, and the wave of green ebbed into the forest.

"Can he really keep so many snakes?" Lotus could hardly believe her eyes.

Count Seven Hong took a large swig from his canteen and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. "We had a lucky escape . . . They could have swarmed over us like a tide, and there is nothing I could have done. It was fortunate that they weren't experienced enough to see through my tricks. If the Venom had been here . . ."

"We could have run," Guo Jing suggested.

"You think you young 'uns can outrun the Venom of the West?" Count Seven laughed.

"Is he really that dangerous?" Lotus asked.

"There are Five Greats, as you know. Your own father, the Eastern Heretic. And me, the Northern Beggar. Then we have the Southern King and the Western Venom – that's the boy's uncle. Now that the greatest amongst us, Immortal Wang, has passed, we four that remain are of roughly equal prowess. Think about my kung fu, or your papa's. Then you'll have an idea of what Viper Ouyang can do."

With a harrumph, Lotus fell silent. Eventually, she said, "I don't like people calling Papa the Heretic."

"Your father likes the name very much. He's an eccentric, unorthodox. He cares not for conventions. He disagrees with Confucianism, the court, the state, and all the traditions they uphold. What does that make him, if not a heretic? He stands firm and acts alone, he doesn't fawn over wealth or power, and I have always respected him for that. But, when it comes to the martial arts, the Quanzhen Sect is the orthodox school, and I admire them unreservedly." Count Seven turned to Guo Jing. "You've trained with them, haven't you?"

"Elder Ma Yu taught me for two years."

"That's why you can attain this level of prowess with the Dragon-Subduing Palm in just a month."

"Who is the Southern King?" Lotus asked.

"His Majesty, of course."

"The Song Emperor in Lin'an?"

"Him?" Count Seven laughed. "He barely has enough strength to lift a golden rice bowl. Southern Fire overcomes Western Gold – the Venom's nemesis."

Count Seven looked at the sky. He seemed troubled. His face bore no trace of his usual joviality. Guo Jing and Lotus wanted to hear more about the Southern King, but they did not feel they should press him further.

Eventually, the beggar made to move inside. As he passed through the doorway, his sleeve caught on a nail, but he was so lost in his thoughts that he did not notice the material rip.

"Let me mend it." Lotus approached him with a needle and thread she had borrowed from the innkeeper's wife.

Count Seven snatched the needle and rushed outside. With a flick of his right hand, he sent a silver thread through the air.

The needle skewered a grasshopper and pinned it to the ground. Lotus clapped in delight at the display.

"Yes, this could work," Count Seven muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "Viper Ouyang has always loved to keep snakes and poisonous insects. It is most impressive how he controls so many with such ease. He must use some powerful drugs . . . That nephew of his is no doubt as crafty as the old man. He will speak ill of me, for sure. I need a plan to hold back the Venom's creatures the next time we meet."

"Pin them down with needles!" Lotus had reached the same conclusion.

Count Seven rolled his eyes. "You little imp! You always know what I'm thinking."

"And you've got the herbs, too. They stopped when you sprayed them with it."

"That will only hold them back for a moment." Count Seven was still mostly talking to himself. "I could try the Skyful of Petals technique with needles, but if there are as many snakes as today, it would take a week or two to skewer the lot, and by then I'd have died of hunger . . ."

"You could cook the snakes in chicken broth, then scatter some chrysanthemum petals and finely-shredded lemon leaves over it. Delicious!"

Count Seven's left index finger pulsed at the thought of snake soup, a welcome – if momentary – distraction from the prospect of an encounter with Viper Ouyang.

"Right, I'll find you your needles!" Lotus dashed out of the inn.

Count Seven sighed. "You really should get her to give you a little of her wit."

"I'm not sure that's possible." Guo Jing grinned sheepishly.

In no time at all, Lotus returned with two large packets. "I've bought every single needle in the town. The local men will know all about it tomorrow when they don't manage to buy any for their wives!" Lotus giggled.

Count Seven bellowed with laughter. "Thank the heavens this old beggar was smart enough to avoid the trap of marriage! Come, come, let's start. I know you kids are desperate to learn this little trick."

Lotus jumped to her feet immediately, but Guo Jing stayed seated.

"I don't think I'll join you."

That was not the response Count Seven was expecting. "Why?"

"I've learned more than I can remember already today."

Count Seven Hong was impressed by Guo Jing's sense of honour. Though the beggar had insisted that he would not teach the young man again, he was prepared to go back on his word to ready him for their next encounter with Gallant Ouyang's snakes. Yet Guo Jing had no interest in taking advantage of his great idea.

So, while Count Seven taught Lotus the basics of the Skyful of Petals technique, Guo Jing practised the first fifteen moves of Dragon-Subduing Palm. He now felt as if he had glimpses of its subtle intricacies, but still suspected he would never be able to master the true depth and breadth of the moves.

A fortnight later, Lotus had grown quite competent at the Skyful of Petals needle throw. She could send more than a dozen sewing needles flying at a target's fatal points with a flick of her hand. However, she had yet to master the art of hitting several attackers at once with just one handful of needles.

When not practising, Lotus also made use of the snakes, preparing them in a myriad different ways – stir-fried, stewed, boiled into soups . . . She braised one coiled up, tucking its head under its tail.

"I name this Haughty Dragon Repents, for this snake is as flexible and adaptable as a true hero!" Lotus declared, making Count Seven Hong and Guo Jing howl with laughter.

That morning, Count Seven Hong had succeeded in casting several dozens of needles over an area of two zhang in one throw. He laughed heartily, but his delight was short-lived. "What is the Venom planning with those snakes?" he asked himself for the hundredth time.

"If there are only three masters of the wulin who can match Viper Ouyang's kung fu, why does he need to use the snakes at all?" Lotus said.

"You're right, he must be planning to use them on us – the other three Greats. The Beggar Clan and the Quanzhen Sect have many followers and allies. The Southern King obviously has his guards and soldiers. Your father is most skilled in divination and strategy – he can defeat an entire army on his own. If the three of us take on the Venom together, he won't stand a chance . . ."

"That's why he needs his creatures!"

"Catching and keeping snakes is a trick of the beggar's trade. A handy way to swindle a few coins out of rich young ladies. It's a feat to capture even a dozen snakes, but the Venom is herding thousands at a time. He must have spent a lot of time and energy on honing this skill. This is not a game to him."

"He must be planning something nasty, but we're lucky that his nephew exposed their scheme. He couldn't help showing off!"

"I'm not so sure. Those snakes couldn't have travelled thousands of miles from the west. He must have collected them in the mountains around here. He's flippant, to be sure, a most slippery young man, but I doubt he would have done it just to show off. There's something else at play here."

The Beggar Chief began to pace up and down. "What if the Venom keeps me so busy that I can't spare a hand? What if his minions herd all the snakes towards me, all at once? What should I do?" he wondered aloud.

Lotus laughed. "Well . . . there's one strategy that never fails – run!"

"Fie! What kind of a man would do that?"

"I've got an excellent idea," Lotus said, after a moment.

"What is it?"

"You can keep us with you. You fight the Venom, Guo Jing keeps his nephew busy, while I throw needles to skewer the snakes. The only problem is, Guo Jing hasn't even learned the whole of Dragon-Subduing Palm. He'd probably struggle to beat that smarmy rogue."

Count Seven glared at Lotus. "You're the rogue, here! All you ever think about is how to trick those last three moves out of me. Guo Jing is a good soul. I wouldn't mind teaching him the rest of the moves. But that would make him my disciple and I'd be a laughing stock for taking on such a doltish protégé. And that won't do."

Lotus knew nothing she could say or do would change Count Seven Hong's mind, so she headed to the market to provision a spectacular meal to thank him. As she sauntered back to the inn with a basket full of fresh produce, she made little flourishes with her right hand, practising Skyful of Petals kung fu.

5

A PINTO HORSE CANTERED PAST LOTUS HUANG IN A TINGLE OF bells and stopped at the inn. She recognised the dismounting rider immediately. A resentment she had not felt for weeks resurfaced.

Why do they want Guo Jing to marry her? What's so special about her? Lotus decided to make her feelings known. She set down her basket and followed Mercy Mu inside.

Lotus watched Ironheart Yang's god-daughter sit at a square table, and noted how her whole being seemed weighed down by melancholy.

When the waiter came for Mercy's order, she responded without lifting her eyes from the table. "A bowl of noodles and four taels of boiled beef."

"Boiled beef! How boring."

Mercy looked up and was surprised to see the girl who had ridden away with Guo Jing standing by her table.

"Please join me, sister," she said as she got out of her seat.

"Are you travelling with the short, fat man and the filthy scholar? What about those meddling Taoists?"

"I am alone."

Her answer brought a grin to Lotus's face. She did not have to worry about Qiu Chuji or Guo Jing's shifus, then.

Mercy seemed scrawnier than when Lotus had last seen her, a couple of months ago, yet her despondent air somehow enhanced her beauty. Her travelling boots stood out from her white mourning clothes, as did the mourning flower in her hair.

Lotus noticed the dagger tucked into Mercy's belt – the marriage token – and asked sweetly, "Sister, would you let me look at your dagger?"

Mercy glanced at the outstretched hand, unsure what to do. She found the glint in the young woman's eyes unsettling, but common courtesy compelled her to oblige. She removed it from her belt and handed it over.

Lotus examined the carving on the hilt. Two characters: the surname Guo, and Jing, meaning "serenity".

I can't let her carry a dagger with Guo Jing's name, Lotus told herself. She drew the blade. The chill of the metal instantly cooled the air. What a weapon!

"I'll return it to Guo Jing." Lotus resheathed the knife and put it inside her shirt.

"What are you doing?"

"His name is carved on the hilt. It clearly belongs to him."

"This is the only memento I have of my parents." Mercy sprang to her feet. "Give it back!"

"Catch me if you can!" Lotus darted out of the inn and turned left, heading away from the pine forest where Count Seven Hong was napping and the clearing where Guo Jing was practising the Dragon-Subduing Palm.

Mercy followed as fast as she could, calling out after Lotus. I'll never be able to catch her if she gets on her red horse, she thought.

Lotus took a few sharp turns before stopping near a row of scholar trees. "If you can beat me, I'll give it back to you. Duel for a Sword, this time, instead of Duel for a Maiden."

"Sister, please don't make fun of me," Mercy begged, her face flushed with embarrassment. "It's the only connection I have left to my godfather."

"Who are you calling 'sister'?" Quick as the wind, Lotus swerved close to Mercy and struck out with her palm.

Mercy twirled aside. But Lotus's Cascading Peach Blossom Palm was much faster.

Smack, smack!

Pain rattled Mercy's ribcage. She skittered to the left and turned to face Lotus. Her palms flew hard and fast.

"Wayfaring Fist – how awfully common!"

How does she know? It's Count Seven Hong's unique kung fu! Mercy was taken aback.

Lotus cut a backhanded slice with her left palm and thrust her right fist forwards.

She knows it too! Mercy scuttled back, surprised. "Who taught you Wayfaring Fist?"

"I invented it." Lotus fired off two moves from that very same repertoire: Alms at the Gates and Hands Extended for Charity.

Mercy blocked with a Roam the Four Seas. "You know Count Seven Hong?"

"He's an old friend," Lotus said with a dazzling smile. "You fight with the kung fu he taught you and I'll use mine. Let's see who wins!"

Mercy could not recognise a single move of Lotus's rapid-fire onslaught and she did not stand a chance against a girl who had been taught by two of the greatest martial artists of the age.

Lotus's left palm shot up and hewed to the side, like a longsword. Mercy swerved away from the sharp edge of the strike. All at once, she felt the back of her neck growing numb. Lotus had flicked her Great Hammer pressure point with the Orchid Touch.

This was an important intersection of the Governing Vessel Meridian along the spine and the Triple Heater Channel that extended down the arm. A touch on this spot drained all energy from the limbs.

Mercy watched helplessly as Lotus took a step closer and jabbed at the Will Chamber point on her right flank. She felt herself tipping backwards.

She had lost all control of her body.

She looked on as Lotus unsheathed the dagger and brought it sweeping down towards her face.

This is it, she thought, squeezing her eyes shut.

The swish of the sword, the chill of the blade . . . a dozen times over, but she felt no pain. She opened her eyes to the flash of the dagger. Its point glided past her cheek and ear. No more than an inch away.

"Just kill me. Don't play games!" Anger swelled through Mercy's veins.

"Why would I want to kill you? I have no quarrel with you." Lotus paused, then added, "I'll let you go if you do as I say. If you make this promise."

"No! Kill me, if you dare. I never beg!" Mercy closed her eyes and prepared to die.

"It would be a shame to perish at such a tender age." Lotus fell silent. When she spoke again, her tone had softened. "We are true to each other. Even if you marry him, he won't like you."

"What do you mean?" Mercy's eyes flew open and she stared at Lotus.

"It's fine if you don't want to promise. I know he won't marry you."

"Who are you talking about?"

"Guo Jing."

"Guo Jing? What do you want me to promise?"

"Swear you'll never marry him. Swear on your life."

Mercy smiled. "I would not marry him, even if you forced me at knifepoint."

"Really? Why?"

"It might have been my godfather's dying wish, but . . . he wasn't in his right mind then . . . He had forgotten . . . he betrothed me to another . . ." Mercy's voice had suddenly gone very quiet.

"I'm so sorry. I got it all wrong . . ." Lotus quickly released the lock on Mercy's pressure points and massaged her limbs to ease the discomfort. "Sister, who is your betrothed?"

A blush spread across Mercy's cheeks. "You've met him," was all she was able to whisper.

"Have I?" Lotus tried to recall all the men she had encountered in the past few months, but no suitable candidate came to mind. "I can't think of anyone good enough for my peerless sister, here."

"Your Guo Jing isn't the only good man in this world."

"But why wouldn't you want to marry Guo Jing? Is it because he's too thick?"

"Not at all! I admire him very much. So pure-hearted, so righteous. He was kind to Papa and me. He stood up for us, with no regard for his own safety. I am forever indebted to him. He is a rare breed."

"Then why?"

Mercy took Lotus by the hand. "Brother Guo is in your heart and you will never look at another man. Isn't that so, sister? Even if they are more wonderful than him in every way."

"Of course, but there can't be anyone better than him."

"So you understand . . . The Duel . . . I lost . . ."

"The Jin Prince Wanyan Kang!"

"It doesn't matter if he's a prince or a beggar, kind or cruel, my heart and my being will always be his." Mercy's voice was still barely audible, but she spoke with absolute certainty.

Lotus took Mercy's hand and they sat, side by side, under one of the trees. She felt a profound connection to Mercy. Somehow, this young woman was able to put into words what she had been feeling all these weeks.

"This is yours." Lotus offered Mercy the dagger.

"You should keep it. It has his name on it. It is . . . inappropriate for me to carry it on my person."

"Thank you, sister," Lotus said, putting the dagger back inside her shirt. She wondered how she could return this gesture of kindness. "What brought you to the south? Is there something I can help you with?"

"Nothing in particular." The blush returned to her cheeks.

"I will take you to Count Seven."

"He is here?"

Lotus heard a creak overhead, then saw a faint shape hopping from branch to branch, retreating through the treetops. She stood up, just as a piece of bark fell from above. On it was carved a short message, inscribed with a needle: Should Lotus misbehave again, she will be boxed on her ears. There was no signature, just the outline of a gourd.

Count Seven heard everything! It was Lotus's turn to blush. She showed Mercy the note.

The young women could not find any sign of Count Seven Hong nearby. They headed back to the inn, arm in arm, but found only Guo Jing.

"Sister Mu, when did you last see my shifus?" he asked.

"We travelled south together, but parted ways in Shandong. I haven't seen them since."

"Did they seem well?"

"Don't worry, they coped after your departure."

The answer did not set Guo Jing's mind at ease at all. All he could think about was how angry his martial teachers must be.

Noticing the effect of her words on Guo Jing, Mercy chose to change the subject. "Sister, you are so blessed to have spent all this time with Master Hong. I've longed to see him again, but he hasn't even let me catch so much as a glimpse of him!"

"He was watching over you, though," Lotus said. "If I'd tried to hurt you, he would have intervened."

"Lotus, you tried to hurt Sister Mu?"

"Of course not!"

"She was afraid that I . . ." Mercy paused, feeling slightly awkward.

A flustered Lotus resorted to tickling Mercy's armpits. "Are you sure you want to continue?"

"No, of course not! Would you like me to swear?" Mercy stuck out her tongue.

Lotus turned a deeper shade of red as she recalled how she had threatened Mercy earlier.

Never one to read into any exchange, Guo Jing was just happy to see how close the young women seemed.

After dinner, the three took a stroll in the woods. Mercy told her friends about her encounter with Count Seven Hong.

"I was very young then. Papa and I were in Bianliang. I was playing by the entrance of the inn where we were staying. I saw two beggars collapse, all bloodied and covered in stab wounds. No-one helped them because they were so filthy. I felt sorry for them, so I helped them into the room I shared with Papa. I didn't really have any medical knowledge. I could only help them clean and bind their wounds. When Papa returned, he was pleased with what I had done. He said I was kind-hearted, just like his wife. He gave them a few taels of silver and they left full of thanks. A few months later, we came across those same beggars in Xinyangzhou. They had made a full recovery. They brought me to an abandoned temple to meet Master Hong. He was pleased with my actions and taught me moves from the Wayfaring Fist, for three days. When I returned on the fourth day, he was gone, and I never saw him again."

"Count Seven forbade us to share his kung fu," Lotus said. "But, if you are interested, we can spend a fortnight or so together and I can teach you some of the moves I learned from Papa." Relieved that Mercy had so resolutely refused to marry Guo Jing, and grateful for her generous gift of the dagger, Lotus wanted to do something to repay the kindness of her new bosom friend.

"Thank you, sister. That's very sweet of you, but I'm afraid I can't stay. There's something I have to attend to first. Once that's done with, I'll come back begging to learn!"

Lotus was curious. What did Mercy have to do that was so urgent? But she could tell from Mercy's expression that she did not wish to speak about it. Over the past few hours, Lotus had come to realise that, although Mercy looked meek and bashful, she was headstrong and firm. Once she had made up her mind, she would not waver. Since Lotus would not be able to prise anything out of Mercy that she did not wish to divulge, she would have to find out her friend's secret another way.