Chapter 10 - The Nine Yin Manual

IT WAS PAST MIDNIGHT. AFTER A NIGHT OF ADVENTURE, GUO Jing and Lotus Huang were ready to head back to the inn – until the pounding of hooves piqued their interest.

Who was hurrying north, this late at night? Silence reigned again. Why had the rider stopped? They picked up their pace and were surprised to find Yang Kang standing by the road, reins in hand, speaking to Gallant Ouyang. There was a furtive look about him.

They were too far away to hear much of the men's exchange, but they did not want to move closer lest they be discovered.

From Gallant Ouyang's hushed whispers, Lotus could only make out the words "Yue Fei" – the patriotic Song general – and "Lin'an" – the Song Empire capital. Meanwhile, Yang Kang kept muttering about "my papa". A short time later, Gallant Ouyang put his palm over his fist, in a gesture of farewell, and went east with his entourage of women.

She had heard too little to make head or tail of their conversation, but it was enough to gnaw away at the little faith she had in Yang Kang. She watched him closely. He seemed dazed. He stared into space for a good while before mounting his horse with a sigh.

"Brother!" Guo Jing called.

Visibly surprised, Yang Kang leapt down from his mount. "I thought you would be halfway to Zhongdu by now, brother?"

"I'm sorry, I've been delayed. I found Lotus here and we've just fought with Gallant Ouyang."

Yang Kang hoped his burning cheeks were cloaked by the night. Did they hear what I said to him? He scrutinised Guo Jing for clues and, to his relief, found nothing to suggest they had.

He wouldn't be this friendly if he knew what we were talking about, and he's too simple to hide it from his face, thought Yang Kang. "Brother," he said in his sweetest voice, "shall we find a place to rest for the night, or press on?"

Once they crossed the River Chu and then the River Huai, north of Baoying, they would be in Jin territory – the only home he had known.

Yang Kang then turned to Lotus with a smile. "Are you coming with us, Miss Huang?"

"No, I'm not coming with you. You are coming with us," Lotus corrected him.

"What's the difference?" Guo Jing laughed. "Why don't we stop at the ancestral temple tonight and set off after the banquet tomorrow?"

"Pretend we saw nothing. Don't ask him about Gallant Ouyang," Lotus reminded Guo Jing quietly.

They walked back to the ancestral temple together in silence. When they arrived, they lit the candles left behind by Gallant Ouyang and prepared a place to sleep. It was the height of summer, so the boys took down the doors of the main hall and set them up as makeshift beds in the cloister, in the courtyard. Lotus, meanwhile, stayed inside the main hall and gathered from the floor the needles she had flung in the fight.

They fell asleep as soon as they lay down, but, before long, the dull thud of hooves invaded their dreams. The noise grew louder and closer.

Eventually, Lotus could take it no more and rushed out into the courtyard.

"Three riders being pursued by . . . maybe a dozen?" Lotus Huang guessed.

"Sixteen." Guo Jing grew up on horseback in Mongolia and could tell the size of a herd by ear. "The first three are Mongolian horses. What are they doing so far from home?"

Lotus took Guo Jing's hand, eager to see what was going on.

Just as they stepped through the temple's main gate – whoosh! – an arrow zoomed past, inches above their heads.

The three Mongolian horses were charging straight at the temple.

Another arrow. It hit the rearmost horse in the thigh.

The steed buckled, whinnying in pain. The rider leapt off in one smooth motion, with the agility of a martial man, but his feet landed with a thump.

Not trained in lightness kung fu, then. The same thought flashed through the minds of both Lotus and Guo Jing.

"Keep going! I'll hold them back," the man shouted in Mongolian.

His companions halted their horses and one of them said, "I'll help you. Fourth Prince, you should go!"

"I won't leave without you both!"

Guo Jing could not believe his ears. Tolui, Jebe and Boroqul! What are they doing here? But there was no time to make himself known. The men hunting the Mongolians had arranged themselves in a semi-circular formation and were closing in.

The Mongols quickly let loose a series of arrows. These shafts tore the air with exceptional power, forcing their pursuers to check their advance and fire back from a distance.

"Up there!" One of the Mongols pointed at the ceremonial flagpole just outside the temple. They scaled it with ease and prepared to defend themselves from the podium at the summit. The high vantage point helped to even the odds against them.

The pursuing soldiers dismounted and surrounded the pole, but they kept out of range of the Mongols' arrows. Once they were in position, an order was shouted. Four men stepped forward and raised their shields high. They crept under cover, close to the ground, and, once in position, began to hack at the flagpole with their sabres.

"You're wrong." Lotus turned to Guo Jing. "There are only fifteen of them."

"The last one was shot."

A horse trotted close to the temple entrance, dragging a man along beside it. The soldier's left foot was stuck in the stirrup and an arrow protruded from his chest.

Guo Jing crawled to the body. He pulled out the arrow and felt along the shaft. As expected, he found an iron ring branded with the image of a leopard's head. This was the stiff arrow that Jebe preferred, heavier than a standard one by two jin.

"Brother Tolui, General Jebe and General Boroqul? It is I, Guo Jing," Guo Jing called in Mongolian.

"What brings you here?" The men replied in unison, surprised by the chance encounter.

"Who are they?"

"Jin soldiers!" Tolui replied.

Guo Jing picked up the corpse and hurled it at the bottom of the flagpole as he strode forward. Two of the soldiers were knocked out instantly and the remaining two scuttled back to take shelter among their comrades.

The air stirred and Guo Jing looked up. Two spots of white swirled in the night sky. The white condors he had raised with Khojin in Mongolia!

Catching sight of their master in the dark, the pair of condors swooped down next to Guo Jing, croaking with excitement.

Lotus Huang remembered Guo Jing telling her about these condors when they first met. He had tried to defend them against attack, and adopted the condors' orphaned chicks. These must be the orphans. She had hoped, one day, she might get a pair of condors for herself. Now she had a chance to meet these fabled creatures, the fight no longer held any interest.

"Can I play with them?" She reached out to pat the bird closest to her. It pecked at her defensively. If her reactions had been a fraction slower, she would have had a nasty wound on her hand.

"Oh, you naughty beast!" Giggling, she watched them with her head tilted. She decided she liked these magnificent predators very much.

"Lotus, watch out!"

She could hear two arrows flying straight at her, but she paid no heed to Guo Jing's warning. No weapon could pierce her Hedgehog Chainmail. The arrows simply bounced off her chest. Right now, she had a more important task at hand. The dead soldier must have some food stashed away in his pockets. At last, she found what she was looking for, and threw morsels of dried meat to the condors.

"Lotus, stay with the condors. I'll take care of the Jin soldiers."

Guo Jing darted forward and caught, barehanded, an arrow aimed straight for him. Then he thrust his palm into the shoulder of the soldier next to him.

Crack! The bone snapped on contact.

"Who are you, dog?" The question boomed out of the night, in Chinese.

I know that voice . . . Yet, before Guo Jing could place who it belonged to, he felt the air parting and the chill of a blade.

An axe – no, two axes – hacking down towards his chest and abdomen.

He knew such savage blows could not have come from a common soldier.

Stooping low to avoid them, Guo Jing swung his arm back in a Dragon Whips Tail. He could feel a shoulder blade fracturing into several pieces under his palm as a howl of pain tore at his ears.

Now he remembered: the Reaper Axe, Qian Qingjian, one of the Four Daemons of the Yellow River.

Guo Jing's counter sent Qian Qingjian flying back several paces. The man slammed to the ground, where he stayed, unable to stand up. Though Guo Jing was aware of the improvement in his martial skills since he fought the Daemons in Mongolia, back in the winter, he was astonished by his own prowess. He was not allowed the time to reflect, however, as he felt a metallic chill in the air once more. Then a sabre sliced down at his left side and a spear thrust at his right.

Flipping his right hand palm down and curling his fingers into a hook, Guo Jing latched on to the spearhead, inches from his ribs, and tugged.

The Dispatcher, Wu Qinglie, lost his footing and tumbled forward.

Guo Jing then leaned backwards, out of the sabre's reach. As Wu Qinglie tried to regain his footing, his head strayed right into the path of his martial brother Shen Qinggang's falling Spirit Cleaver.

Guo Jing kicked at Shen Qinggang's sword-wielding wrist. A glimmer of light arced up into the air – Shen's sabre. He then pushed Wu Qinglie in the back. Pang! The two Daemons smacked into each other and collapsed in an unconscious heap.

In a couple of moves, Guo Jing had subdued three of the Daemons. The fourth, Soul Snatcher Whip, Ma Qingxiong, had lost his life not long ago, on Lake Tai, defeated by Laurel Lu and his pirates.

Now, only ordinary Jin soldiers remained. Oblivious that their best fighters were already out of action, they were still firing arrows at the Mongolians.

"Are you still fighting?" Guo Jing cried as he lunged. Fists and feet flying, he hurled aside every soldier that crossed his path.

In the blink of an eye, the soldiers had scattered to the four winds.

Shen Qinggang and Wu Qinglie were coming to, stars flashing in their eyes. The two Daemons cared not who had defeated them. Their heads were splitting with pain and all they wanted was to get as far away as possible. They ran in opposite directions, while Qian Qingjian fled in a third, whimpering as he massaged his shoulder.

Jebe and Boroqul, both exceptional marksmen, shot three of the retreating soldiers. Tolui watched as Guo Jing broke up the rest of the pursuing force, in awe of his sworn brother's martial skills.

"Anda, my brother, how have you been?" he asked as he slid down the flagpole. The two young men regarded each other with joy, their hands grasped tight. The unexpected reunion had rendered them speechless.

"If it weren't for you, we would have never tasted the sweet water of Onon River again," Jebe said to Guo Jing, after his descent.

"This is Lotus." Guo Jing took Lotus's hand and introduced her to the Mongols.

"Would you grant me the condors, Prince?" Lotus asked sweetly. Tolui understood no Chinese, but he was very taken by Lotus's sonorous voice.

"What brings you, anda? Why are the condors here?"

"Papa sent me to the Song Emperor to propose a joint military action against the Jin. We strike from the north and the Song attack from the south. Sister made me take the condors along, in case we met. And she was right! Here you are!"

Guo Jing was struck dumb by the mention of Khojin. He had barely given his betrothal to the Mongolian Princess a second thought since he had met and fallen in love with Lotus. He did not feel right about the arrangement, but he did not know what to do, especially since he had never desired the honour conferred by the Great Khan. He had just pushed the whole affair out of his mind.

Now Tolui had reminded him of her, he was at a loss how to respond. Then he remembered he had promised to go to Peach Blossom Island: I'm sure I will pay for Hurricane Chen's death with my life. None of this will matter then.

He turned to Lotus. "The condors are mine. Now they are yours." Happy to get her way, Lotus turned her attention back to the birds, throwing more dried meat at them.

Tolui told Guo Jing more about why he was so far south. In the past months, Genghis Khan had had great success in his campaign against the Jurchens, but the Jin Empire was vast and their reserves of soldiers ran deep. The Jin had managed to hold on to several strongholds that halted the Mongolian's advance, even though they had lost most of the battles. That was why his father the Great Khan sent him to the Song Empire for help to break this impasse. But the Jin army ambushed them before they could cross into Song territory. Only the three of them, out of the large entourage of guards and followers, escaped the slaughter.

Everything began to fall into place for Guo Jing. That was why Yang Kang had wanted Mercy Mu to go to Lin'an to see the Song Chancellor, when he was held at Roaming Cloud Manor. The Jin had received intelligence of Tolui's mission and sent Yang Kang to forestall the alliance.

"The Jurchens were determined to get rid of me to prevent our alliance with the Song," Tolui continued. "Their Sixth Prince personally led the attack."

"Wanyan Honglie?" Guo Jing asked.

"Yes, he wore a golden helmet. I saw him clearly. I fired three arrows at him, but his guards blocked them with their shields."

Guo Jing turned to Lotus. "Wanyan Honglie is here!"

"Let's get him!" Lotus turned, expecting to find Yang Kang nearby, but he was nowhere to be seen.

"I'll look on the east side; you search to the west." Guo Jing then raced off with his lightness qinggong.

Several li from the temple, he caught up with a couple of Jin soldiers fleeing from the fight. They confirmed that the Sixth Prince Wanyan Honglie led the mission, but insisted that they had no idea of his whereabouts.

"We deserted the Prince," one of them began. "Our heads will roll for it. Our only option now is to hide in the countryside and pretend to be ordinary Han Chinese."

The sky was growing light. Wanyan Honglie must still be in the vicinity, but Guo Jing could find no trace of his father's murderer. He started to run, fuelled by frustration. Then he saw a shadow moving through the woods and raced ahead. It was Lotus. One look at her face and he knew she had had no luck either. They headed back to the temple, dejected.

"Wanyan Honglie left his main force to pursue us with his fastest horses," Tolui said when Guo Jing and Lotus were back at the temple. "He must have turned back for reinforcements. Anda, I have further orders from Father; I must not tarry. Forgive me for this hasty departure. Khojin bade me to say this to you – come back soon."

Guo Jing hugged his friends one by one, knowing this was likely to be their final farewell. He watched as the yellow dust kicked up by their horses engulfed their silhouettes. He stayed standing in the road until he could no longer hear the sound of their hooves.

"Let's wait for Wanyan Honglie's return," Lotus said. "If he comes back with lots of soldiers, we can keep out of sight until it's dark. Then we'll kill him."

"I'll hide the horses in the woods." Guo Jing noticed something glittering in the grass as he led their mounts through the temple's rear courtyard.

A golden helmet, crowned by three spectacular gemstones, each as large as a longan fruit. He picked it up and showed it to Lotus.

"Wanyan Honglie's helmet?" she asked.

"It must be!" Guo Jing lowered his voice. "He's probably inside the temple!"

Lotus tapped a foot against the temple wall, flipped up and landed quietly on the roof. "I'll look from up here. You search on the ground."

Just as Guo Jing was about to dart inside the temple, he heard Lotus's voice: "How was my qinggong just now?"

He stopped, unsure why she asked. "Wonderful! Why?"

"Then why didn't you say so?"

"Oh, but I tell myself how wonderful you are all the time!"

Chuckling, Lotus waved and sprinted across the roofs towards the rear garden.

2

WHILE THE MONGOLIANS WERE BEING HARD PRESSED ATOP the flagpole, Yang Kang had caught sight of Wanyan Honglie among the soldiers, directing the onslaught. Even though he now understood that he was no blood relation of the Sixth Prince, he had always been treated as his own; he was raised as son and heir. This man was the only father Yang Kang had ever known, and his fortunes would always be bound up with his.

If Guo Jing sees Wanyan Honglie, the man is as good as dead, Yang Kang told himself. If he did nothing now, he would be letting Guo Jing rob him of the life of wealth and power he had been groomed to inherit.

No, he was not ready to give that up.

Just then, a soldier thrown by Guo Jing slammed into Wanyan Honglie. The Sixth Prince of the Jin could not turn his horse fast enough and was knocked off his mount. Yang Kang darted over and scooped up the fallen man.

"Sire, don't make a noise," he whispered, and, under the cover of darkness, he carried Wanyan Honglie to the rear courtyard of the temple.

Neither Guo Jing nor Lotus noticed what Yang Kang had done.

Yang Kang opened the door to a side chamber and set the Prince down. The clamour of the fight was dying down. He could hear footsteps fading into the distance, followed by a conversation in a language he could not understand, though he recognised one of the voices as Guo Jing's.

"Kang?" Wanyan Honglie was not sure if this was a dream. "How come you are here?"

"By sheer chance," Yang Kang said quietly. He sighed. "That Guo Jing has ruined everything."

Guo Jing was speaking in Chinese again. They could just about make out his words. He was telling Lotus to head west to look for Wanyan Honglie.

Wanyan Honglie had seen how Guo Jing had dispatched three of the Daemons of the Yellow River with his bare hands. If the boy turns those hands on me, he thought with a shiver, I won't stand a chance.

"I don't think they'll look this way, sire. Let's wait for them to go further before we make our way out."

"Of course . . . Why are you calling me sire, Kang? You've always called me Pa."

No answer.

Yang Kang was thinking of his mother, and his heart churned.

"Your mother . . ." Wanyan Honglie took his son's hand. It was ice cold, but clammy with sweat.

Yang Kang pulled away. "Stay away from Zhongdu for the next six months. Guo Jing is determined to avenge his father's death. His kung fu is strong and he knows a lot of martial masters. You won't be able to defend yourself."

The memory of Ox Village eighteen years ago washed over Wanyan Honglie along with a wave of grief, both then chased away by a surge of guilt. He did not trust himself to speak.

"Understood. I will keep away from the capital," he eventually muttered. "How was Lin'an? What did Chancellor Shi say?"

"I never got there."

Wanyan Honglie surmised that the coolness shown by his son must have been due to him learning of his true parentage. But, if so, why had he helped him just now? They had been close for eighteen years, doting father and filial son. Now, sitting in the dark in this small chamber, their bodies close, he could feel the bad blood between them.

A battle had been raging inside Yang Kang since they had taken refuge in this room. He realised this was his chance to avenge his parents. He could easily kill the man responsible for the death of his birth parents with a flip of his palm, but he was haunted by doubts.

Can I muster the resolve to kill him right now? Ironheart Yang might be my birth father, but what did he ever do for me? Ma was always kind to Father; if I kill him now, surely it won't please Ma's spirit in the underworld. Do I want to give up all that I've enjoyed since birth? Am I ready to renounce my privileges as a prince and wander around as a thief and a bandit with Guo Jing?

"Kang, my son, you will always be my true-born heir. No matter what."

Wanyan Honglie's words caused Yang Kang's heart to thump against his ribcage.

"Within ten years, our Great Jin Empire will finish the Song. The realm and its infinite wealth will be in my grasp, and one day they will be yours."

He means to usurp the throne! This new insight delivered Yang Kang from his dilemma. Now he could appraise his situation from a different perspective.

The Jin army will destroy the Song easily. The Mongols are a nuisance, but those savages on horseback will never amount to much more than a marauding horde. Not even our Emperor can match Father's wit and abilities. So, once he gets his way, I too will ascend to greatness.

Yang Kang took his father's hand. "Your child will stand by your side, Pa. Always."

His hand isn't cold anymore, Wanyan Honglie noted with joy. "We shall found a great dynasty and you will bring glory to our name."

A crack came from behind, cutting short Yang Kang's reply. The two men whipped around, their hearts gripped by fear.

Faint rays of light were now shining through the window lattice, heralding the break of dawn. They had been leaning against a stack of half a dozen coffins! This chamber must be where they stored unused coffins and placed their deceased before burial. The sound seemed to have come from inside one of the wooden caskets.

"What was that?" Wanyan Honglie was spooked.

"A rat?"

More alarming sounds followed.

Footsteps, voices. Coming their way.

Guo Jing and Lotus Huang.

We dropped the helmet outside, Yang Kang realised with horror.

"I'll create a diversion," he whispered. He opened the door as quietly as he could and leapt onto the roof.

"There!" Lotus raced after the fleeting shadow, but it turned a corner and disappeared.

"He must be in that bush!" As Lotus moved closer, the vegetation rustled and parted.

"Brother! Have you seen Wanyan Honglie?" Guo Jing asked.

"Why would he be here?" Yang Kang asked, feigning surprise.

"He led the soldiers. This is his helmet."

"Oh, really?"

Lotus could tell something was not quite right. Yang Kang's furtive conversation with Gallant Ouyang came back to her.

"Where did you go?" she asked, with an accusatory tone. "We looked everywhere for you."

"Something I ate earlier disagreed with me." He pointed at the bush.

Lotus did not believe him, but she had no desire to be confronted by the proof, should he be telling the truth.

"Let's find Wanyan Honglie!" Guo Jing urged.

"What great news that he has come to us to meet his fate," Yang Kang said, trying to keep his face blank. He hoped he had given his father enough time to escape. "Why don't you and Miss Huang search the east side? I'll take the west."

Guo Jing was already through the eastern entrance, the Gate of Filial Integrity, before Yang Kang had finished his sentence, but the ploy did not work on Lotus.

"Brother Yang, I'll come with you."

"Well, we must make haste. We can't let him slip away!" Yang Kang prayed Lotus would not see through his show of enthusiasm.

The Liu clan was once a wealthy and important family in Baoying. However, as the town was close to the Jin border, the region had suffered numerous incursions from roaming troops. Buildings were torched and fields were trampled. The skirmishes brought about the Liu family's decline and their ancestral temple had fallen into disrepair.

Lotus watched Yang Kang as he searched. Though he kept stressing the urgency, he was moving with deliberate sloth through each room. The doors he opened were also long-sealed by dust and cobwebs.

She spotted a mess of footsteps stamped into the dust outside the westernmost chamber. As she approached, she saw a fresh handprint pressed into the grime on the door.

Her suspicions were confirmed.

"He's hiding in here!" Lotus cried as she kicked the door down.

Yang Kang rushed over, followed by Guo Jing. Barging ahead of Lotus, Yang Kang raised his voice. "Wanyan Honglie, where are you? Come out, villain!"

"Brother Yang, he heard our approach long ago. There is no need to be his messenger."

"This is no laughing matter!" he snarled back, but the shame of being found out had stained Yang Kang's face crimson.

"Please don't take offence, brother; Lotus loves to tease." Guo Jing smiled. He had never once suspected Yang Kang of wavering in his allegiance. "Look, someone was sitting here not long ago. He really was here."

"What are we waiting for?" The coffins were making Lotus jittery.

As she turned to leave, a muffled crack sounded.

It can't be!

She paused and cast her eye over the coffins. One of them appeared to be rocking from side to side. Yelping, she latched on to Guo Jing's arm.

"That . . . that villain must be inside." Fear had yet to cloud her wits.

"Over there!" Yang Kang pointed in another direction and gave chase.

Yet, before he had managed to step outside, Lotus grabbed his wrist and locked onto his pulse. "Enough of your games!"

"What are you doing?" Yang Kang felt his arm become numb.

Guo Jing approached the coffin – "He must be in here!" – and wrenched at its lid.

"Careful, brother. It could be one of the undead!" Yang Kang called.

"Stop it!" Lotus tightened her hold and yanked. She did not need Yang Kang stoking her fears.

"Press down on the lid." Her voice trembled. "Don't let that . . . thing come out."

"The undead don't exist," Guo Jing said, and sat on the coffin. "He can't come out now."

Lotus did not look convinced. "I'll hit the coffin with the Splitting Sky Palm. We'll be able to hear whether it's the cry of a man or the wail of a ghost."

She let go of Yang Kang and took two steps forward. She channelled strength into her hand and got ready to strike at the coffin.

But, of course, Yang Kang had no idea that Lotus had not mastered the technique and could do no damage to the coffin or its contents. She only intended to slap loudly on the wooden board to frighten whatever was within.

"Stop! What if you smash through the wood and it bites you on the hand?" he cried.

Aaaahh . . . yeeeee . . .

A woman's wail.

"A ghost!" Lotus screamed and ran outside.

The supernatural did not frighten Guo Jing. "Brother Yang, let's take a look."

Yang Kang was ready to defend his father, even though he knew he stood no chance. But Wanyan Honglie could not have made that noise. His relief was palpable, and so he went to help Guo Jing.

The lid lifted with ease. It was not nailed down.

Guo Jing summoned his strength and raised his arm as he peered inside, just in case. The coffin contained no creature of death. Only a beautiful young woman looked back at him, wide eyed. Mercy Mu!

Yang Kang could not believe his good fortune as he reached in to pull Mercy out of the coffin.

"Lotus, look who we found!" Guo Jing called. Lotus turned, but kept her eyes screwed shut. "It's Sister Mu!"

Lotus let her right eye open into a slit and saw Yang Kang's arm around a woman that looked very much like Mercy Mu. Gingerly, she approached.

Why does Mercy look so stiff? she wondered, before recognising that her friend's limbs were locked by her acupressure points. Two streams of tears were running down Mercy's cheeks.

With a few taps, Lotus freed Mercy from the bind. "Sister, who put you in there?"

Mercy Mu had been immobile for some time. Even though she was now free, she felt sore and numb all over. She focused on regulating her breathing, while Lotus massaged her joints. After the time it takes to finish a pot of tea, she eventually spoke. "I was captured by a villain."

"Gallant Ouyang?" Lotus asked quietly. She noticed Mercy's movement had been locked via the Gushing Spring pressure point in the arch of the foot. It was not one commonly used in the wulin of the Central Plains.

Mercy nodded, reliving the night of her capture. She shuddered at the memory of how Gallant Ouyang had locked her acupressure points beside the stack of skulls made by Yang Kang's shifu. When Gallant Ouyang ambushed the blind woman with his snakes, a stranger in a green robe had appeared from nowhere and played a seductive tune on the xiao flute, sending Gallant Ouyang's women and snake herders into a frenzy, and the awful lecher himself running for his life. When Gallant Ouyang's followers came to, the next day, they found her still bound by her pressure points on the ground and brought her back to their Master.

After that, things got worse for Mercy. Gallant Ouyang made several advances, but she insisted she would rather die than compromise her chastity. Fortunately, the Master of White Camel Mount felt forcing himself on her was beneath him. He believed his looks, his charm and his martial knowledge were sufficient to melt the coldest of hearts. His conceit preserved Mercy's virtue.

When Gallant Ouyang and his retinue arrived in Baoying, they set up base in the ancestral temple of the Liu clan and placed Mercy in a coffin, for safekeeping. His disciples went around the town, seeking out its beauties, but their abduction of Miss Cheng brought the Beggar Clan out in force, along with Guo Jing and Lotus Huang. Once more, Gallant Ouyang had to run for his life, and everyone forgot about Mercy. The libertine did not much care about leaving one or two of his prizes behind. After all, he had captured many women in his life and knew there would always be more.

If Guo Jing had not searched the temple for Wanyan Honglie, Mercy would have starved to death in this empty coffin, forgotten by the world.

Thrilled by this unexpected encounter with his sweetheart, Yang Kang's face was a picture of loving tenderness. "My dear, do rest a bit. Let me boil some hot water for you."

"Have you ever boiled water?" Lotus grinned. "I'll do it. Guo Jing, come with me." She wanted to give the lovers some privacy.

Stern and without the merest hint of a smile, Mercy's face shared none of the excitement visible on Yang Kang's. Once they were alone, she spoke quietly. "Congratulations, Yang Kang." She spat out his last name with frosty disdain. "I hear you shall come into infinite wealth one day."

She heard my exchange with Father! Yang Kang felt his spine turn to ice and his face sear with embarrassment. He was at a loss how to respond.

Seeing his discomfort, Mercy's heart softened. If they find out he helped Wanyan Honglie escape, they might . . . She decided to keep his secret and vented her annoyance another way. "But why did you suddenly start calling him sire instead of Pa?"

Yang Kang stared at the ground in awkward silence.

Though, by now, Lotus had moved too far away to make out what Mercy was saying to Yang Kang, she could tell the tone between them was cold. She assumed it was a lovers' tiff, that her friend was angry with Yang Kang for not coming to her rescue sooner.

"Let's go." She tugged on Guo Jing's sleeve. "I'm sure they'll make up in no time." Guo Jing smiled and followed quietly.

Yet, once they were in the courtyard, Lotus said, "Let's spy on them."

"Don't be silly, I'm not doing that."

"Fine! But I won't tell you what I find out!" She hopped onto the roof and tiptoed back towards the westernmost chamber.

". . . you called that villain Father. Perhaps you can't quite let go of the past yet, your heart hasn't quite adjusted to reality. But harbouring treacherous thoughts, talking about bringing ruin to the land of your birth, this . . . this . . ." Lotus could tell Mercy was very angry – so worked up that she could not finish her sentence.

"Sweetheart, I—"

"Who are you calling sweetheart? Don't touch me!"

Smack!

She must have slapped him! I need to do something. Lotus flipped down from the roof and entered through the window.

"My, my! Surely, whatever it is, there is no need for violence? We can talk it through, can't we?" Lotus said.

Mercy's cheeks flushed crimson, while the blood had drained from Yang Kang's face.

Before Lotus could say another word, Yang Kang said loudly, "Well, clearly you have met another and I am to be discarded. That's why you're treating me like this!"

"What . . .? What do you mean?"

"You've been with that Gallant Ouyang. We all know he's ten times the man I am in every way – his kung fu, his learning – I can't compare. After him, why would you still keep me in your heart?"

It was now Mercy's turn to go pale. Her hands and feet had turned ice cold. She almost fainted.

"Brother Yang, you mustn't make up lies," Lotus said. "Why would the villain lock Sister Mu's acupressure points and keep her in the coffin, if she liked him?"

"I don't care whether she really likes him or just pretends to. She's been with that man for days. She is no longer pure. What is there left for me?" Yang Kang's shame at having his true allegiance revealed had turned into blind rage at Mercy.

"I . . . I . . . am no longer pure? What do you mean?"

"You've been in his power for days. He must have held you in his arms and who knows what else! Can you deny it?"

Mercy had suffered enough already. A rush of pure anger flooded her heart. A heart-wrenching wail escaped her body. She spat out a mouthful of blood and collapsed.

Yang Kang regretted his harsh words. He wanted nothing more than to whisper sweet nothings and comfort Mercy. But, as he reached out, he remembered the conversation Mercy had overheard – she knew his secret – and Lotus's obvious doubts about him. If Mercy let on what she knew, not only would she endanger his own life, she would also thwart his father's escape, jeopardising his grand plans.

Steeling his heart, Yang Kang ran out of the room and across the courtyard, vaulted the wall and disappeared.

3

LOTUS CAUGHT MERCY AS SHE FELL AND TRIED TO REVIVE HER by rubbing her chest, over the heart. Gradually, Mercy came to. She collected herself and looked around, as if nothing had happened. Her eyes were now dry.

"Sister, may I borrow the dagger I gave you?"

"Guo Jing, can you come here?" He ran over at Lotus's call. "Give Brother Yang's dagger to Sister Mu."

He pulled out the dagger Zhu Cong had retrieved from Cyclone Mei at Roaming Cloud Manor. The name Yang Kang was carved into the hilt.

"I have Guo Jing's dagger here with me." Lotus reached for the short sword she kept inside her shirt. "And Brother Yang's blade is yours now."

She felt more secure about her future, as well as Mercy's, now they each held the tokens Skyfury Guo and Ironheart Yang had exchanged when they made the pact to join their yet-to-be-born children in brotherhood or matrimony. "Sister, your union is predestined. Don't worry about the fight just now. Don't let it hurt you. Papa and I argue all the time! Why don't you come with us to the Jin capital? We're going to find Wanyan Honglie, and I'm sure Yang Kang will come along too."

"Where's Brother Yang?" Guo Jing asked.

Lotus stuck her tongue out. "He upset Sister Mu and received a slap. Then he ran away. Sister, you know he loves you dearly. Why else would he stand there and let you strike him? He's the stronger martial artist, as we all know from the Duel . . ."

Lotus was going to make a joke about how they had met in the Duel for a Maiden and were used to getting physical. But one look at Mercy made her check her tongue.

"I'm not going to Zhongdu and there's no reason for you to go there either. You won't find the villain there for the next six months at least. He knows you're coming after him and he's afraid. Brother Guo, sister – you two are perfect for each other and fortune smiles on you . . ." Mercy was overcome by sobs. She buried her face in her hands and ran outside. Then, with a tap of her foot, she leapt onto the roof.

Lotus looked down at the splatter of blood Mercy had spat onto the floor, and then turned to run after her friend. She spotted her in the distance, under a large willow tree. There was a flash of light – the sun dancing on metal!

"No!" But she was too far away to do anything.

Mercy Mu raised the dagger Lotus had given her high over her head and pulled back her hair. Then she swung the blade down.

"Sister!"

Paying no attention to Lotus, Mercy let her hair fall to the ground and walked away without looking back.

As Lotus watched the strands of black silk dance in the air, a strange new sensation rose inside her.

Her eyes followed the threads of Mercy's hair as they flew over fields and streams, settled on roads, grazed treetops, fell amid dust and earth, and drifted on the water.

A spoilt child who had grown up without companions, Lotus never felt the need to hide her emotions. She had always laughed when she was happy, cried when she was upset. But this scene has caused a kind of grief, anxiety, loss – something she had never felt before – to well up in her heart. For the first time, she tasted the bitterness of life. Pondering this new feeling, she walked back to the temple.

She told Guo Jing what she had seen, and the young man could not understand Mercy's reaction either. "Why would Sister Mu do such a thing? She's too hot tempered."

Of course, neither knew the true reason behind the quarrel.

Troubled by Mercy's actions, Lotus's thoughts turned to Yang Kang's parting words, and questions swirled in her mind.

Can a woman lose her chastity because a man embraces her? Is that why her sweetheart, who once loved and respected her, now looks down on her? Is that why he doesn't want to have anything more to do with her?

Lotus wandered through the temple's rear garden and sat down against a pillar, haunted by these ideas. She could not fathom the logic behind Yang Kang's response, but she soon fell asleep, accepting this as the way of the world.

4

THAT EVENING, VIGOUR LI RETURNED TO THE TEMPLE TO SET up the banquet. Knowing Lotus Huang would be fastidious about cleanliness, he made sure the cups and plates and everything else were presentable enough for their guests.

Miss Cheng arrived with several dishes she had prepared personally, while her servants carried four large urns of vintage wine. She raised a toast to thank her rescuers, but did not stay for the meal. Guo Jing and Lotus drank and talked merrily with their hosts, but Count Seven Hong did not make an appearance. The beggars knew their Chief's temperament and paid little attention, continuing their feasting and their conversations with the young couple.

After the banquet, Guo Jing and Lotus discussed what they should do next. Wanyan Honglie was in hiding and there would not be enough time to seek him out before the rendezvous on Peach Blossom Island. Guo Jing suggested they go to Jiaxing to meet with his shifus to work out a plan before crossing the sea together.

"Actually, it's probably for the best if your shifus don't come," Lotus said. "I doubt any good will come of it. You won't mind kowtowing to Papa to apologise? I'll make it up to you. However many bows you have to make, I'll return twice the amount."

"You're right. And you don't need to bow to me. For you, I'll do anything."

IT WAS now the first half of the sixth lunar month. The people south of the Yangtze used to say, "On the sixth day of the sixth month, duck eggs cook under the sun."

A firmament of fire seared the earth. The young couple travelled early in the morning and after sunset to avoid the scorching heat.

Before long, they had arrived in Jiaxing. Guo Jing left a letter for his shifus with the manager of the Garden of the Eight Drunken Immortals. He explained that he had met with Lotus Huang on his way to Yanjing and they were now heading to Peach Blossom Island together.

Since I am travelling with Apothecary Huang's daughter, he wrote, rest assured that no harm shall come to me. Please do not concern yourselves with travelling to Peach Blossom Island on my behalf.

Though he sounded confident in the letter, he knew his prospects were grim, faced with a man as unpredictable as Apothecary Huang. He kept his concerns from Lotus, as he did not wish to worry her. He simply comforted himself that he was keeping his shifus from a dangerous encounter. He knew, if he had told them personally, they would all have insisted on coming with him.

The young couple travelled east from Jiaxing and reached the coast by Zhoushan. Lotus hired a boat for Xiazhi Island, as she knew the local people feared Peach Blossom Island as much as venomous snakes and scorpions. No amount of money could tempt any boatman to venture even within forty li of its shore.

Once they had come out of the bay and sailed into open waters, Lotus commanded the helmsman to steer north, revealing their true destination. Before the frightened man could refuse, Lotus jabbed her dagger into the deck with a casual flick of her hand, and then plucked it out, turning it on the helmsman. With the chill of the blade against his chest and the gleaming metal dazzling his eyes, the sailor bemoaned his misfortune and complied meekly.

Soon, they were approaching Peach Blossom Island and an overwhelming fragrance washed over Guo Jing. Lush and verdant, the island was colourful like a swatch of silk brocade – clusters of green, dashes of red, dots of yellow and streaks of white.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Lotus asked.

"I've never seen so many flowers in my life. Nor such beautiful ones!"

"It's already summer, the flowers now are nothing compared to the spring peach blossoms. Though Shifu won't say Papa's kung fu is the greatest under the heavens, I'm sure he'd admit that Papa is unrivalled when it comes to horticulture. But our shifu cares only for food and drink; he probably knows nothing about what makes a flower or a tree exceptional. He's really awfully common."

"You can't speak so rudely about Shifu."

Lotus stuck her tongue out and pulled a face. She then explained to Guo Jing the story behind the island's name. Once upon a time, a master known as Ge Hong practised Taoism on the island, and, when he departed for the next realm, he splashed ink on the shore, leaving deep marks, shaped like peach blossoms, in the rocks. When her papa moved in, he planted peach trees to match the name.

The boatman, having long heard that the murderous Lord of the Peach Blossom Island took pleasure in disembowelling his victims, steered close to the shore without anchoring. Lotus leapt onto land, followed by Guo Jing and their Fergana horse, Ulaan.

The moment his unwelcome passengers had disembarked, the man shifted the tiller, keen to put as much distance as he could between himself and the dreaded island. Then he heard a thud as something landed on the deck.

"We've got to go back to the mainland. You'll be rewarded handsomely!"

A piece of silver, worth ten taels, glimmered from the bow. He promised the generous lady he would return, as he sailed away as fast as he could.

"Papa! Papa! I'm home!" Lotus cried happily, excited to be back on the island.

She beckoned Guo Jing and zigzagged through the jungle of flowers. Guo Jing only had to blink to lose sight of her. He ran along the path, calling her name, but before long he was hopelessly lost.

There were tracks leading east, west, north, south. Which way did Lotus go?

He picked a path and soon noticed that the surroundings looked awfully familiar. He had gone round in a circle and now he was back where he had started! He remembered Lotus telling him that Peach Blossom Island's layout was far more complex than the labyrinthine Roaming Cloud Manor. If he barged ahead blindly, he would only find himself more tangled up in the maze, and probably further and further away from Lotus. So he sat beneath a peach tree and waited.

An hour passed, then two, but there was still no sign of Lotus. Only silence to keep him company. Not a soul in sight.

Guo Jing was getting anxious. He climbed up to the top of a nearby tree to get a better view. To the south was the sea, to the west nothing but rocks, and to the east and north an ocean of flowers of every hue, as far as the eye could see. Their vibrant colours sent his head spinning.

No whitewashed walls, no black tiles, no smoke from the chimney, no dogs barking. No sound at all. It was uncanny.

The silence was beginning to unnerve him. He leapt from branch to branch, plunging deeper into the woods. What if I've gone so far off track that not even Lotus can find me? He decided to retrace his steps, but the harder he tried, the less familiar his surroundings became.

The light was failing, so he sat down once more, hoping Lotus would locate him before nightfall. Thankfully, the ground was covered by a soft blanket of grass. It was quite comfortable to sit on, but soon his stomach started to rumble and his mind wandered to all the delicacies Lotus had cooked for Count Seven. The hunger was becoming unbearable.

What if Lotus has been locked up by her papa? Guo Jing's thoughts grew dark, in step with the sky. I'm going starve to death here!

And he had not avenged his father's death yet. Nor had he repaid the kindness his shifus had shown him. What about his mother? All alone in the Mongolian desert. Who would look after her, if he died?

Despite these worries, he was soon asleep.

He was back in Zhongdu. Lotus was there too. They were on the lake, sharing a meal. She hummed a song. A xiao flute answered. Guo Jing opened his eyes with a jolt.

The moon was high. The fragrances of the island's lush vegetation were more intense at night. Flute song drifted from afar on the breeze. He was not dreaming anymore.

Re-energised, Guo Jing decided to head towards the source of the music. Sometimes the path disappeared, but he could still hear the xiao ahead of him. He remembered treading similar meandering and interrupted paths in Roaming Cloud Manor, and he decided to ignore the landscape and layout. He followed the flute song resolutely, climbing into the treetops to push forward whenever he reached a dead end.

Soon, the music grew clearer. He sprinted after it and followed it round a bend in the path. A vista opened up suddenly. A lake of white flowers shimmered in the moonlight. Then he spotted a man-made structure peeking from behind the vegetation.

Now the music grew louder, now it softened. Sometimes it sounded ahead of Guo Jing, sometimes it whispered from behind. He listened. It was coming from the east! But, when he started to follow it, the music suddenly seemed to originate from the west. When he dashed north after it, it would suddenly call from the south. Could there be a dozen musicians signalling each other and toying with him? He grew dizzy from running in circles and decided to ignore the music for now and investigate the mound.

Here lies Madam Feng, Mistress of Peach Blossom Island. The characters were carved into a stone slab over the tomb.

Lotus's mother, Guo Jing thought. It must have been so hard on Lotus to lose her mother so young.

He fell to his knees and bowed reverentially four times, his forehead touching the ground. It was an earnest gesture of respect borne out of his love for Lotus.

The music stopped. But the moment Guo Jing was back on his feet, it resumed. Once again, it was ahead of him.

Be it good or evil, I'll follow it.

The flute song led Guo Jing back into the woods. The tune shifted key. It was now smiling at him, murmuring into his ears. Softly, gently, seductively. His heart fluttered, his mind swirled.

Why does this melody sound so good? he asked himself.

The tempo now quickened, urging him to dance. Somehow, the music was causing his blood to rush through his veins, his face was flushed and his ears burned. He sat down and began to regulate his breathing with the neigong formula Ma Yu had taught him, but he so wanted to jump up, wave his hands and kick his feet about to the tune. Eventually, he managed to gather his mind, uniting his thoughts and spirit. All concerns and desires were swept from his being, leaving only a bright hollowness within.

The music had lost its allure suddenly. It had become no more beguiling than lapping waves or whispering branches. The Elixir Field below his navel glowed warmly; his body was energised and relaxed at the same time. He did not even feel hungry anymore. He knew he was in a state in which nothing external could trouble his mind, and he opened his eyes slowly.

A pair of glowing green orbs stared at him from the darkness, several paces away.

Guo Jing leapt to his feet and backed away.

What kind of beast is that? he asked himself, frightened.

The eyes vanished.

Not even a creature as fast as a leopard or a raccoon could disappear in the blink of an eye like that!

Then he heard heavy breathing. It sounded human.

Silly me – the man just closed his eyes! That's why they disappeared! He didn't go anywhere! Guo Jing laughed inwardly at his stupidity, but remained vigilant, as he could not tell if the stranger was friend or foe.

Now the tone of the flute fluttered, cooing into his ears, beguiling like a woman's sigh. Now a moan, now whispering sweetly, now beckoning gently. The tune had grown more bewitching, but it had little effect on Guo Jing – he had yet to be acquainted with the music made by a man and a woman between the sheets. However, the stranger was desperately resisting the temptations of the flute, panting harder and faster.

Concerned by the man's painful gasps, Guo Jing crept forward. The night was clear, but the lush canopy of vegetation blocked out the moon.

Only a few steps away, Guo Jing was finally able to discern the outline of the stranger's features. His wild hair tumbled down to the ground. His unusually long eyebrows and overgrown beard obscured most of his face. Sitting cross-legged, the man held his left hand over his chest and his right hand on his back.

Guo Jing recognised the stance. He had learned it from Scarlet Sun Ma Yu atop the cliff in Mongolia. This position kept heart and spirit contained, so no sight or sound could disturb one's internal peace – not the crashing waves, the crumbling mountain, the booming thunder or the flashing lightning.

This man knows orthodox Taoist internal kung fu. Why can't he resist the flute song? Guo Jing could not fathom the reason for his own immunity.

The music now swelled with renewed urgency, causing the stranger to shudder and jump. He leapt up several times, rising more than a foot from the ground. Then he managed to force himself down again, with great mental effort.

Watching the stranger flit between serenity and agitation, Guo Jing grew worried. The man's internal state was growing more precarious as moments of peace were increasingly shortlived. The flute made two coloratura twirls and the stranger sighed, "Let it be . . ." Muscles tensed, he was ready to leap to his feet.

There was no time to think. Guo Jing pressed firmly on the man's right shoulder, pushing him down, then slapped his other hand onto the Great Hammer acupressure point at the back of the man's neck.

Two years ago, when Guo Jing first started training under Ma Yu, the Taoist would gently massage this pressure point, channelling warmth through his palm, when Guo Jing's mind strayed and his spirit grew restless. It prevented the young man's qi from misfiring into the demonic way and causing damage to his mind and body.

Guo Jing tried to do the same. His internal kung fu was not sufficiently cultivated to help the stranger resist the music, but he had managed to light upon the very spot that would allow the bearded man to quash the noise within. The agitation was gone. The stranger propelled his energy around his body in peace, with his eyes closed. His breathing grew even and smooth.

Happy with the result of his intervention, Guo Jing then heard "Little bastard!" muttered behind him. The flute song had come to a sudden halt.

He turned. The voice sounded like Apothecary Huang's. But, of course, he could not make out so much as a shadow.

Helping the man must have angered Lotus's papa further. What if he is evil? I really have made a big mess.

And, with that thought, his mood sank.

5

SINCE HE HAD NOWHERE TO GO AND NOTHING TO DO, GUO Jing sat down facing the bearded man and started to work on his own internal energy. He closed his eyes and turned his sight inwards. Before long, all worries were purged from his mind and he entered a state where neither he nor the world existed. By the time he opened his eyes again, the morning dew had formed on his clothes and stars were fading in the dawn twilight.

The sun shone through the canopy of flowers and leaves, painting the stranger's face with blossom-shaped shadows. Guo Jing could finally get a good look at him.

It must have been years since the man had groomed his hair and beard. They were long and straggly, and bristled, like a wild creature. Curiously, they were jet black, without a speck of grey.

"Which of the Seven Disciples of Quanzhen is your shifu?" The stranger smiled, his eyes twinkling brightly.

Startled, Guo Jing shot to his feet. But the man seemed kindly enough, so he bowed. "Your student Guo Jing pays respect to the Elder. The Seven Heroes of the South are my teachers."

"The Seven Heroes of the South? Ke Zhen'e and his gang? How could they teach you Quanzhen neigong?"

"Elder Ma Yu the Scarlet Sun instructed me on internal kung fu techniques for two years, but I was not initiated into the Quanzhen Sect officially."

The man roared with laughter and made a face – the kind of expression a child would make after pulling a prank. "Aha! What brings you to Peach Blossom Island?"

"I came here at the command of the Lord of Peach Blossom Island."

"Why?" His countenance darkened.

"I offended Lord Huang and now I am here to receive my death."

"You're not pulling my leg, are you?"

"I wouldn't dare."

"Good!" The bearded man nodded. "There's no need for you to die, really. Sit down."

Guo Jing obeyed, perching on a rock. He now realised the man was sitting in a cave in a hillside.

"Who else has taught you?"

"The Divine Vagrant Nine Fingers—"

"Count Seven Hong?" The man flashed a half-smile.

"Yes, Master Hong taught me the Dragon-Subduing Palm."

"Wow! You know that? It's an amazing technique!" Envy and enthusiasm poured forth. "Teach me! I'll kowtow and call you Shifu." Then he shook his head, vigorously. "No! That won't work! That Old Beggar and I are the same age. I wonder if I'm older or he . . .? I can't be his martial grandson. That wouldn't be right!"

He turned once more to Guo Jing. "Did the Beggar teach you neigong?"

"No, sir."

"Even if he started training in his mother's belly," the man mumbled to the clouds, "he'd still only have been doing it eighteen or nineteen years. Why can he resist the flute song, when I can't?"

He scrutinised Guo Jing from head to toe and back again, before holding up his right hand. "Push against my palm. Show me your kung fu."

Obediently, Guo Jing touched his palm against the man's.

"Let your qi sink to the Elixir Field, then channel your energy."

Guo Jing did as he was told.

"Good! Now, watch out!"

The man drew back slightly, then thrust. A potent force gushed forth.

Guo Jing could not hold his ground. His left hand darted up instinctively to swat at the bearded man's arm, hoping to break the palms' contact. Yet the man twirled his hand, and stopped the strike, placing four fingers on the back of Guo Jing's wrist. He followed up with a casual backhand flick. Immediately, Guo Jing's footing was lost.

He stumbled back seven or eight steps, until his back smacked into a tree. Luckily, he had followed Count Seven Hong's training and held back some of his strength. With the reserved energy, he was able to stand firm again.

"Not bad, but nothing special either. How did he resist the 'Ode to the Billowing Tide'?" The man was talking out loud to himself again.

Guo Jing inhaled deeply to calm the blood and energy rushing around his torso.

This man's martial skill is on the same level as Count Seven and Apothecary Huang. Could he be . . .?

The idea that this man could be the Venom of the West sent a chill through Guo Jing. He lifted his hand towards the light to check for signs of poison – no angry swelling, no black streaks – and heaved a sigh of relief.

The bearded stranger grinned. "Do you know who I am?"

"I have heard that there are five supreme martial masters in the world. Immortal Wang, the Leader of the Quanzhen Sect, has already passed on. I've had the honour of meeting Count Seven Hong, the Divine Vagrant Nine Fingers, as well as the Lord of Peach Blossom Island. Could the Elder be Master Ouyang or His Majesty the King of the South?"

"You think I'm a match for the Heretic of the East and the Beggar of the North?"

"Your student is a novice and has seen very little of the martial world. Yet, of the martial masters I have had the honour of meeting, other than Count Seven and Lord Huang, I cannot think of any who could have equalled the Master a moment ago."

The man was extremely pleased. A childlike joy radiated from his unkempt face.

"No, no, I'm not the old Viper and I'm not a king. Try again."

"I have also met a man called Qiu Qianren. He had us believe he was on the same level as Count Seven, but his claims were without substance, his kung fu average. I'm afraid I am very thick and cannot even guess at the Master's great name."

"I'll give you a hint." He chuckled. "My last name is Zhou."

"Zhou Botong!" Guo Jing blurted out. He bowed deeply in embarrassment. "Your student begs the Elder's pardon."

"Correct! That's me, Zhou Botong." The man was still chuckling. "Zhou Botong is my name, and you called me by my name. What's there to pardon? Double Sun Wang Chongyang was my elder martial brother, and Ma Yu, Qiu Chuji and the rest are my martial nephews. But you're not in the Quanzhen Sect, so there's no need to be so long-winded with all these elders and masters and what not – just call me by my name."

Was he suggesting they throw all the social hierarchies and codes of behaviour of the age out of the window? Flabbergasted, Guo Jing took some time to mumble a limp, "I wouldn't dare," in reply.

Meanwhile, an even more outlandish idea had hatched in Zhou Botong's brain. He had been bored senseless living in isolation on Peach Blossom Island all these years. The young man's sudden appearance meant that, at long last, he had someone to talk to, someone to amuse him!

"Little one, what do you say if we become sworn brothers?"

Guo Jing's jaw dropped at the proposal. He did not mean it, surely! But the man looked very serious, nothing in his demeanour suggested that it was a joke.

After a stunned silence, Guo Jing answered weakly, "Your student is a junior to Elder Ma and Elder Qiu. I should address you as Grandmaster."

Zhou Botong swatted the answer away with both hands. "Why do we need to make such a fuss between generations? My martial brother taught me all my kung fu, and I'm not that much older than Ma Yu and Qiu Chuji. They don't treat me as an elder, anyway, because I don't act like one. I know that you are most likely not my son, and I fear I am not your child, so—"

Footsteps cut him short. An aged servant approached with a tiffin.

"Food!" Zhou Botong announced, visibly excited.

The servant laid out the meal on a rock before Zhou Botong – four dishes, two flasks of wine and a wooden bucket of rice – and stood meekly in waiting.

"Where is Miss Huang? Why hasn't she come to visit?" Guo Jing asked.

The servant shook his head, pointed at his ears, then his mouth.

"Apothecary Huang pierced his eardrums," Zhou Botong explained. "Tell him to open his mouth."

Guo Jing signalled and the man opened his mouth. Half of his tongue was missing!

"All the servants here are the same. Now that you're here, on Peach Blossom Island, if you survive, you'll probably end up like him!"

How could Lotus's father be so barbaric? Guo Jing was in shock.

"The Heretic tortures me every night with that song, but I refuse to admit defeat. And yet, if it hadn't been for you, last night, he'd have broken me." Zhou Botong rambled on without stopping to draw breath. "Ten years of resolve, gone in a puff of smoke! Come, come, come, little brother, we've got food and drink, here. Let's pledge to the heavens and become brothers. From this moment on, we shall share our blessings and bear each other's troubles.

"I remember Wang Chongyang found all kinds of excuses to refuse my invitation, back then, too . . . What? You really don't want to? My brother didn't want to swear brotherhood because his kung fu was much stronger. Are you stronger than me? I don't think so!"

"My skill is too insignificant for me to be your sworn brother."

"If only people with the same level of kung fu can swear brotherhood, are you saying I should be brothers with the Heretic or the Venom? They're nasty, nasty people – I won't do it! Are you saying I should be brothers with that deaf-mute fellow?" He waved his left hand and sent the servant flying in a somersault. Then he started pulling at his beard, yanking his hair and stamping his feet on the ground. Just like a toddler having a tantrum.

Guo Jing tried to explain. "Your student is two generations the Master's junior. If I do as the Elder instructs, I shall be laughed out of the martial world. And when I meet Elder Ma, Elder Qiu and Elder Wang again, would it not be very awkward for me?"

"Only you have so many qualms! I know you don't want to be my brother because you think I'm too old. My beard is long, but actually, in age, I am not so old . . ." Zhou Botong wailed into his hands. "I'll pluck out my beard, then I will look younger!" He yanked out a fistful of facial hair.

"Your student shall do as the Elder commands."

"Nay!" Zhou Botong shouted through his tears. "You're still calling me Elder! You're only saying yes because I've made you do it! If people ask, you'll blame me. No, no, no. I know you don't want me as your sworn brother."

Zhou Botong picked up a plate of food and hurled it to the ground. He sank further into the tantrum, refusing to eat. The servant picked up the debris in evident panic, unable to fathom the older man's mood swing.

Amused by the absurdity of the situation, Guo Jing realised he must play along.

"It was rude of me to refuse this honour from Brother," he said with as much gravity as he could muster. "Shall we make our pledge of brotherhood here and now?"

"The Heretic and I have a pact. I can't leave this cave until I've beaten him. Except when nature calls, of course!" Zhou Botong giggled merrily, but his beard was still glistening with tears. "I'll kowtow from inside and you do it out there."

Guo Jing got down on his knees, wondering if this eccentric man would end up living in the cave his whole life. But, in the short time he had known Zhou Botong, he had already learned that some questions should never be asked.

Zhou Botong, too, sank to his knees. "I, Zhou Botong the Hoary Urchin, pledge to be a brother to Guo Jing from this day forward, to share all my blessings and to bear all his troubles. If I break my word, may I lose all my martial skills, leaving me incapable of fighting a puppy or a kitten."

Guo Jing could not help chuckling at the man's strange title and bizarre vows.

"What are you laughing at? Your turn!"

Guo Jing solemnly promised to be a brother to Zhou Botong the Hoary Urchin. If he broke his word, he would not be able to fight a baby mouse or an infant turtle. They poured wine on the ground and Guo Jing kowtowed to his elder brother.

"On your feet!" Zhou laughed heartily and poured himself a cup of wine. "The Old Heretic is such a miser. His wine tastes like water. A pretty girl came here once, and she brought a delicious vintage. Such a shame she hasn't been back since."

Guo Jing remembered Lotus telling him of this encounter and its aftermath, how her father's reprimand had led her to run away from the island in a fit of anger. Looks like Brother knows nothing about that, he told himself, and the thought of Lotus consumed him as he wolfed down five bowls of rice. After all, it had been a whole day since he last ate.

6

AFTER THE SERVANT HAD PACKED UP THE LEFTOVERS AND DISAPPEARED into the forest, Zhou Botong said, "How did you offend the Heretic?"

Guo Jing began to explain his childhood encounter with Hurricane Chen, how he had accidentally killed this feared man of the wulin in Mongolia, before moving on to his encounter with Apothecary Huang at Roaming Cloud Manor. He also described the fight with Cyclone Mei, and Apothecary Huang's determination to intimidate his shifus, the Six Freaks of the South. Then he described how he had offered to come to Peach Blossom Island to meet his death.

Zhou Botong was engrossed. He loved nothing more than a good story. He listened with his eyes half closed, his head cocked to one side. When he felt Guo Jing had been sparing with the details, he would probe him further, until his curiosity was satisfied.

After Guo Jing had described how he arrived on the island, Zhou Botong asked, "And then what happened?"

"Then I came here."

"So the pretty girl was the Heretic's daughter," Zhou Botong said, after a pause. "Why did she disappear after you arrived on the island? There must be a reason. The Old Heretic must have locked her up."

"Your student thinks so too . . ." Guo Jing frowned, sick with worry.

"What did you just call yourself?" Zhou Botong barked.

"Brother, it was a slip of the tongue. Please forgive me."

"You must never make that mistake again. It's unforgiveable! If we were in a play, it would be terribly confusing, like calling me wife when I'm in fact your mama or daughter!"

Eventually, Zhou Botong was satisfied with Guo Jing's apologies. "Now, guess why I'm here?" He began his tale before Guo Jing could answer: "Well, it's a long story. You know about the martial contest at the summit of Mount Hua? Between the Five Greats – the Heretic of the East, the Venom of the West, the King of the South, the Beggar of the North and Central Divinity."

"I have heard it mentioned." Guo Jing nodded.

"It was the depths of winter – at the year's rump – and snow lay everywhere. Indeed, there was so much snow that all roads up and down the mountain were inaccessible. The five men sparred and debated for seven days and seven nights in the blizzard. In the end, everyone agreed my martial brother Wang Chongyang was the Greatest Martial Master Under the Heavens. Do you know why there was a contest?"

"No, I don't."

"It was for a martial manual—"

"The Nine Yin Manual?" Guo Jing was thinking aloud.

"That's right! Little brother, you may be young, but you have heard rather a lot about the martial world. Do you know the Manual's history?"

"Not at all . . ."

Zhou Botong tugged at a lock of hair by his ear, looking rather pleased with himself. "Well, you told me a rather exciting story just now—"

"It wasn't a story! It's all true!"

"As long as they're amusing, what's the difference between real events and good stories? A lot of people spend their whole life eating, sleeping, defecating and doing nothing else. If you told me every little thing they did, every chicken feather or garlic peel in their pointless, boring lives, every vegetable and chunk of tofu, their every pee and poo, you'd bore the Hoary Urchin to death."

Guo Jing nodded, knowing his brother would always have the last word on any matter. "You're right, brother. Please tell me the story of the Nine Yin Manual."

"Our Great Song once had an Emperor called Huizong. He reigned about a hundred years ago. A devout believer of Taoism. During the Zhenghe regnal era, he collected every single Taoist tract in existence and had them carved into woodblocks, then printed as The Taoist Canon of Ten Thousand Longevities. There were, altogether, five thousand, four hundred and eighty-one volumes. A man called Huang Shang was appointed by the Emperor to carve—"

"His name is Huang too," Guo Jing said, under his breath.

"Pah! What do you mean? That man has nothing to do with Apothecary Huang! Don't get funny ideas! There are plenty of things named Huang in the world. The yellow dog is named Huang. So is the yellow cow!"

Guo Jing knew the character "Huang" meant "yellow", but he doubted that dogs and cows had last names. Nonetheless, he was well aware of the consequences of arguing with his brother, the Hoary Urchin.

"So, this Huang Shang, who had nothing to do with Old Heretic Huang," Zhou Botong continued, "was incredibly clever."

Guo Jing nearly blurted out, "He was incredibly clever too?" Luckily, he managed to hold his tongue.

"He was terrified of making mistakes. Because, if he carved a single character wrong and the Emperor found out, his head would not long remain attached to his neck. So he checked each volume carefully. After a few years, he became an expert in Taoist ideas and sorcery, and, from there, absorbed profound martial theories as if they were part of his being. He didn't have a shifu. He learned it all by himself, cultivating exceptional skills internally as well as externally. A true martial master. I know I am definitely not as smart as Huang Shang, and I'm sure he's much cleverer than you."

"Of course – for me, it'd take more than a lifetime to read that many books. There would be so many words I wouldn't recognise. I wouldn't gain any martial insights."

"There are some exceptionally clever people in this world. But, I can tell you, nothing good – no, indeed, only the very rotten – comes of running into one of their kind." Zhou Botong gave a sad sigh.

Lotus is exceptionally clever, Guo Jing said to himself, but meeting her is the best thing that's ever happened to me.

"Huang Shang was now a martial master, but he still worked as a government official. One year, a very odd religion appeared in his jurisdiction. Some people called it Manichaeism, others the Religion of Light. Apparently, it was brought over by the Persians in the west. They worship neither the Grand Supreme Elderly Lord, nor the Great Sage, the First Teacher Confucius, nor the Tathagata Buddha. Their deity was an ancient demon from abroad. And they don't eat meat – only vegetables!

"I told you the Huizong Emperor was a devout Taoist, didn't I? When he found out about the Manichaeans, he sent an imperial edict ordering Huang Shang to lead an army and get rid of these apostates and infidels.

"Who would have thought that there were so many martial masters among the hearers and elects of the Religion of Light? Or that they fought without fear of death? They were more than a match for the useless imperial army. After a few battles, they completely crushed the soldiers led by Huang Shang. But he refused to give up. He challenged his enemies to single combat and he killed a handful of their legates as well as a smattering of their protectors.

"Some of the people he killed were disciples of major martial schools. Suddenly, their martial uncles, aunties, brothers, sisters, godfathers and godmothers – you name it – came out of the woodwork, bringing friends from other kung fu branches to demand revenge. All of them cursing him for violating the moral code of the wulin.

"Huang Shang tried to explain. 'I am a government official. I'm not part of your martial world; how would I know your rules?' But these aunties and uncles with their many mouths cried, 'How could you have learned kung fu without being part of the wulin?' 'Did your shifu teach you how to fight, but not the code that governs us?' To which Huang Shang replied, 'I have no shifu.' Of course, they swore on their lives that he was lying and kept on bickering. What do you think happened next?"

"They fought?"

"Indeed! They started exchanging blows, but Huang Shang's moves were very odd. It was like nothing anyone had ever seen before. In no time at all, he killed a few more aunties and uncles. But, although Huang Shang's kung fu was exceptional, one man cannot prevail against a mob. Eventually, he was injured and ran for his life. They were so angry, they sought out his family and took it out on them, killing his parents, his wife, his children. Every last one of them."

Guo Jing sighed at the needless loss of life. A voice within told him, Death haunts the martial arts. If Huang Shang had gained no martial knowledge, tragedy would not have befallen his family.

"Huang Shang ran away to a wild, desolate place, far, far away, and kept himself hidden. He had memorised every single martial move his enemies used on him, and spent every waking moment devising countermeasures – so he could kill them and avenge his family.

"After who knows how long, he finally cracked them all. He was so very happy, because, even if they now all attacked at once, he could deal with them on his own! He left his hideout to seek revenge, yet each and every one of his adversaries had disappeared. Do you know why?"

"Did they hear about his new kung fu? Were they hiding in fear?"

"No, no. My martial brother asked me to guess, when he told me the story, too. But I couldn't get it, even after seven or eight tries. Now, it's your turn. Try again."

"I won't get it, even if I try seventy or eighty times," Guo Jing said sheepishly.

"Don't be so useless, boy! You can't admit defeat already!" Zhou Botong chuckled. "Well, I'll spare you the agony. They were all dead."

"Huh? How? Did Huang Shang's disciples kill them? Maybe his friends?"

"No! You're ten thousand li off the mark!" Zhou Botong shook his head wildly. "He never had any disciples. Remember he was a civil servant? His friends were all scholars. You know, reciting poetry and writing prose. They couldn't kill a thing!"

"Was there a plague?" Guo Jing scratched his head. "A disease that wiped out all his enemies?"

"No, no, no, you're still very wrong. His enemies were all over the country, from Shandong in the north-east, to Huguang in the south, in Hebei, in the two Zhes. How could they die of the same plague? Hang on, actually, there is one plague every one of us will fall victim to eventually. You can run to the ends of the earth and you still won't escape it. Can you tell me what it is?"

Guo Jing started listing every illness he knew: typhoid, smallpox, measles, malaria . . . Zhou Botong kept shaking his head.

"Foot and mouth!" Guo Jing slapped a hand over his mouth in a fit of giggles, then knocked himself on the head. "I am so silly. It only affects cattle – not us!"

"You're getting further from the answer!" Zhou Botong laughed at Guo Jing's wild guesses and felt very smug that he knew the answer. "Huang Shang journeyed to far-flung corners of the country, and at last he tracked down one of his foes. When they had first fought, she was a girl of sixteen or so. Now, she was an old grandma of nearly sixty . . ."

"How? Did she disguise herself? Pretend to be an old lady so Huang Shang wouldn't recognise her?"

"No, she really was that old. Huang Shang had scores of enemies. Each one a martial master. Their kung fu came from different schools and branches. Imagine the complexity, the variety! How much time and effort do you think it would take to break down each of their most deadly moves? He spent day and night alone, deep in the mountains, thinking about kung fu. He even dreamed about kung fu. He thought of nothing else, and, meanwhile, a good forty years flew by!"

"Forty years?"

"Yes, if you put your heart and soul into the martial arts, forty years will disappear very quickly indeed. I've been here for fifteen, and it doesn't feel more than a day.

"The girl Huang Shang fought was now a wrinkly old woman, sickly and infirm. She lay in bed, gasping for breath. She'd be dead in a few days, without him lifting a finger. All the hatred and grievances Huang Shang had been harbouring all those decades vanished in an instant. Instead, he looked after her, spoon-fed her congee and medicine.

"Brother, everyone dies one day – this is the plague none of us can hide from. When death comes to you, there's no escape."

Guo Jing nodded solemnly.

"My martial brother and his disciples talked about cultivating nature and nurturing life, day in, day out, but can they really become immortal? I don't believe in that longevity business. That's why I refused to be a rotten monk.

"Huang Shang's enemies were in their forties, fifties and sixties the first time they fought," Zhou Botong continued, after a pause. "Of course no-one was left alive, forty years later. Actually, he needn't have wasted his energy coming up with countermoves. He could have just competed with them to see who could live the longest. He managed to stay in the game for forty years, so the Lord of the Heavens took care of his foes for him!"

Guo Jing began to question whether it was right to seek out Wanyan Honglie to avenge his father's death, but Zhou Botong would not give him a moment's peace to think.

"Kung fu is a store of infinite fun. What else in life is worth doing? Even fun things get boring and flavourless after a while. Only the martial arts grow more interesting the more time you spend with them. Don't you agree?"

Guo Jing gave a non-committal grunt. He never saw kung fu learning as fun. How he had suffered, acquiring martial knowledge in the past decade, forcing himself onwards, head down, teeth clenched. It was his stubbornness that pushed him through. There was nothing fun about any of it.

"Hey, why aren't you asking me what happened next?" Zhou Botong noticed his audience had grown reflective.

"Oh, so . . . then what?"

"You have to ask, or it's no fun for me!"

"Yes, brother, do tell me what happened next!"

"Well, Huang Shang thought to himself, I too have grown old, I don't have many years left. All the amazing martial discoveries he had made over those forty years would die with him. He knew he too would fall prey to that inevitable plague in a few years' time. He couldn't let his efforts just go to waste like that, could he? So he wrote down everything he knew in two volumes. Do you know the name he gave the book?"

"What?"

"Guess!"

After a lengthy silence, Guo Jing asked, "Is it the Nine Yin Manual?"

"Isn't that the stupidest question you've ever heard? Have we talked about anything else today?"

Guo Jing grinned. "I don't want to be wrong."

7

"HUANG SHANG EXPLAINED EVERYTHING I'VE JUST TOLD YOU in the Manual's preface, that's how my martial brother came to know of it, and he told me. Huang Shang hid the book very well. For decades, no-one knew about it. But, one day, it surfaced. Of course, every martial artist under the heavens wanted a peek. They would do anything to get their hands on it. It was chaos.

"My martial brother said that at least a hundred wulin masters have died trying to get hold of the Manual over the years. And, when they did, it didn't matter how well they hid themselves; once they started learning the Manual's kung fu, it only took a year or two before they were discovered. Then hordes of martial men would hound them for the text. This kept happening, so no-one who got hold of the Manual ever lived long enough to learn much. So much bloodshed, all because of one book."

Guo Jing was horrified by the death and destruction the Manual had caused. "If Hurricane Chen hadn't taken the Manual, he could have easily lived a quiet, happy life with Cyclone Mei in a village somewhere," he said. "Even Apothecary Huang might not have found them. If Cyclone Mei hadn't got hold of it, she wouldn't be alone and blind. The Manual has only brought harm to the world."

"What? No, no, no, you're wrong! The Nine Yin Manual contains the most wondrous, mystical kung fu. Just one glimpse can ensnare a martial man for life. It may bring death, but so what? Everyone dies eventually! Didn't we just agree on that?"

"Brother, perhaps you're a little obsessed with the martial arts."

"Of course I am. Nothing is as enriching and fascinating as learning kung fu. Most people are stupid. They worship books because they are the means to becoming a government official, or they love gold and jade, or beautiful women – those are the stupidest. None of these things can give you a sliver of the enjoyment you get from martial training."

"I've learned a little, but I've never experienced any enjoyment practising kung fu."

"What? Why do you learn, then?"

"Shifu says I should—"

"You really are hopelessly stupid!" Zhou Botong shook his head with dramatic disapproval. "Skipping meals is of no import; sacrifices, I can make many. But I would never give up on learning kung fu!"

Guo Jing pretended to agree. He suspected his brother's single-minded focus on the martial arts had left him a little unhinged. "I've seen Twice Foul Dark Wind practising the kung fu from the Nine Yin Manual. The moves were truly evil and malicious. They should never have been written down."

"That can't be! The Manual comes from an honourable orthodox tradition. Twice Foul Dark Wind must have got it wrong."

Nothing Zhou Botong said could persuade Guo Jing. After all, he had been at the receiving end of Cyclone Mei's infernal talons and had seen her take lives without a crumb of remorse.

"Oh, I know what you mean! Huang Shang did write down some nasty moves used by his enemies. You've got to master the really bad moves before you can overcome them. So, he set down the training methods for both – the moves and the countermoves – but the purpose of the Manual was to subdue malevolent kung fu, not to spread it. I'm sure the Heretic's wicked little apostates learned the vicious skills, instead of the ways to vanquish them."

Zhou Botong did not realise that Hurricane Chen had only managed to steal the second volume of the Manual, and that, without the foundation of internal strength explained in the first volume, it was impossible to learn the countermeasures. That was why Twice Foul Dark Wind only acquired relatively basic techniques, like Nine Yin Skeleton Claw, Heartbreaker Palm and White Python Whip, and had to give up on the ways to overpower them.

The Hoary Urchin took a moment to bask in his own glory for having uncovered the twisted truth behind Twice Foul Dark Wind's kung fu, then he turned back to Guo Jing. "Where did we get to?"

"You were telling me how the heroes of the wulin fought over the Manual."

"Oh, yes . . . So, more and more people got embroiled. In the end, my martial brother Wang Chongyang, Lord of Peach Blossom Island Apothecary Huang and Chief Hong of the Beggar Clan all got involved. Together – with two others, as you know – they decided to hold a contest at the summit of Mount Hua, and the greatest among them would be accepted as the custodian of the Manual."

"So that was how the Manual ended up in Immortal Wang's possession?"

"Indeed!" Zhou Botong grew visibly excited as he approached his favourite part of the tale. "I told you that my brother taught me all the kung fu I know, didn't I? He and I were close friends before he became a monk. He used to say that I was too obsessed with the martial arts and had no grasp of the Taoist way – attaining peace through inaction and all that. And he said again and again that I should not become a monk, even though I belong to the Quanzhen Sect. I couldn't agree more! Who in their right mind wants to be a monk?

"You know, of my seven martial nephews, Qiu Chuji is the best fighter, but my brother liked him the least. He thought Qiu placed too much emphasis on his kung fu and neglected his Taoist self-cultivation.

"Brother loved talking about how martial learning is about practice, hard work and improvement, yet the search for Tao – the Way – isn't about fame or fortune, it's about looking for a path to return to the natural self. So kung fu and the Taoist practice are, in actual fact, antagonistic. Ma Yu inherited my brother's philosophical side, but his kung fu can't measure up to Qiu Chuji's or Wang Chuyi's."

"How did Immortal Wang balance the two opposites, being a Taoist and a martial master?"

"He was so naturally endowed. He could understand martial theories and ideas, just like that, whereas I have to work so hard to get there . . . Where did we get to? Why did you distract me, asking all these irrelevant questions?"

"You were telling me how Immortal Wang got the Nine Yin Manual." Guo Jing chuckled, amused by Zhou Botong's childlike mood swings.

"That's right! So, Brother brought the Manual back. He put it in a wooden casket and placed it under a flagstone. Under his prayer cushion. The spot he always sat in when he meditated. He didn't look at it. He wasn't interested in the instructions contained within. It was all very strange, and I kept asking him why. But he just smiled and said nothing. But I didn't give up, and eventually he told me to work it out for myself. Now, why do you think he put it there?"

"Was he worried people would steal it? Or take it by force?"

"No, no! You're way off the mark!" Zhou Botong kept shaking his head. "Who'd be so stupid? To steal from the leader of the Quanzhen Sect would be asking for death!"

Guo Jing thought long and hard. "Actually, perhaps it should be hidden away. No, in fact, it would be better to burn it."

Zhou Botong looked at Guo Jing sharply. "Brother said exactly the same thing! How did you get it, this time? You haven't got anything right all day! Brother told me he tried to destroy the Manual a few times, but he couldn't summon the resolve to go through with it."

"Well, Immortal Wang was already the Greatest Martial Master Under the Heavens," Guo Jing mumbled, his face flushed with embarrassment. He wasn't used to being praised. "He'd be the greatest whether he learned the kung fu in the Manual or not. I don't think he went to Mount Hua to prove his martial prowess. He was there for the Manual. But not for what it contains. He just wanted it for the sake of the heroes of the wulin. So it couldn't cause more senseless killing."

Zhou Botong looked up at the sky and said nothing for a long time.

Did my words offend him? Guo Jing was unnerved by his sworn brother's silence.

At last, Zhou Botong sighed and turned his eyes to the ground. "How did you come to that conclusion?"

"I don't know how to put it." Guo Jing scratched his head. "So many lives were lost because of the Manual. It doesn't matter how valuable the content is, it should still be destroyed . . ."

"What you said makes good sense, but somehow I just can't see it that way. My martial brother also said that, though I'm naturally gifted and very interested in martial learning, I'm too obsessed with it and I don't have any real urge to help people or make the world a better place. Because of this, he said, however hard I work, my martial skills will never reach beyond a certain level. Of course, I didn't believe him. I used to think he was wrong.

"Tell me plainly, what does learning to fight, to wield weapons, to swing fists and launch kicks have to do with the size of one's heart? What does it have to do with personality and magnanimity? Yet, in my fifteen years on this island, I've begun to understand . . .

"Too bad he passed away; he would have liked you so very much, little brother. You're kind, honest and forgiving. He'd have been able to pass on all his knowledge to you. Everything."

Tears began to roll down Zhou Botong's face. "How I wish he were still alive! But even he, with all his martial might, still couldn't escape from the plague that is death."

He buried his face in his hands and began to sob loudly.

Guo Jing had not quite grasped Zhou Botong's point, but his grief was infectious.

Suddenly, the Hoary Urchin stopped crying and looked up. "Hey, we haven't finished the story yet! I can cry later. Where were we? Why didn't you stop me crying?"

Guo Jing was amazed by how quickly his brother's moods could flip. He answered, with a smile, "You were telling me how Immortal Wang hid the Manual under a flagstone and sat over it, on his prayer cushion."

"Ah, yes, that's where we got to!" Zhou Botong slapped his thigh. "Of course, I asked Brother if I could take a peek. He fixed me with a really stern stare and gave me a proper scolding. He had never snubbed me like that and I knew better than to ask again. Anyway, the wulin got to enjoy a bit of peace and quiet after Mount Hua, but things began to stir up again in Brother's last days."

Zhou Botong was speaking louder and faster, his emotions running high in anticipation of the drama to follow.

"He knew the end was nigh, the plague that none of us can escape was knocking at his door. So, after he had made arrangements to settle the Sect's affairs, he commanded me to bring him the Nine Yin Manual. When I got there, a fire was already burning. I knew what he was thinking. I handed him both volumes and he held them for a long time. I heard him mumble to himself, 'Can I be the one to destroy the life's work of our Elder?' Then he sighed and declared, 'Water can carry a boat, but it can also capsize it. Let the world decide how it will use the Nine Yin Manual. However, disciples of the Quanzhen Sect are forbidden to learn the kung fu within, lest we are accused of taking the Manual for selfish reasons.' When he had finished speaking, he closed his eyes and left us. We let his body rest in the temple, and placed the Manual on the altar as an offering. And, that very night, trouble broke out, even before the third watch was sounded.

"I was standing vigil with my brother's seven disciples when we were attacked by a group of martial masters. My martial nephews drew the fight beyond the temple so no harm would come to Brother's body. I was left behind to guard him. Once they were gone, I heard a voice saying, 'Hand over the Nine Yin Manual, or I'll raze this place to the ground.'

"I peeped outside and my chest tightened. A man stood at the very tip of a branch, swaying and bobbing in the wind. Such amazing lightness kung fu, I told myself. If he would teach me, I'd gladly call him Shifu – no, no, I can't – he's here to take the Nine Yin Manual; he's not worthy of the name.

"Obviously, I knew I was no match for him, but I had to try to protect the Manual. I charged outside and leapt up into the tree. There, balanced on its branches, we exchanged thirty or forty moves. I got more and more scared as we fought. We were about the same age, but my kung fu was just that little bit less accomplished than his. Every move he made was so brutal and merciless. I couldn't really block them, but I had to, for Brother. Then he struck me on the shoulder and I fell out of the tree."

"Your kung fu is so strong and yet you couldn't beat him? Who is this man?"

"Guess!"

When Guo Jing finally spoke, for once, it was with utmost certainty. "Venom of the West."

"Yes! How did you know?"

"There are only five people whose kung fu is stronger than yours and they all took part in the Contest of Mount Hua. My shifu Count Seven is righteous and just. He wouldn't do a thing like that. The King of the South is the head of a state. I imagine his actions must befit his status. Lord Huang has a dignified air and an elegant bearing. I doubt he would stoop so low as to take advantage of another's misfortune."

"This knave is more perceptive than he seems." The words echoed among the trees.

Guo Jing sprinted to where he thought the voice had come from, but he only found swaying trees and drifting petals.

"Come back, brother. The Heretic is gone – far, far away."

"Old Heretic Huang knows the rules of the Mysterious Gates and the Five Elements inside out," Zhou Botong explained when Guo Jing returned to the cave. "He planted these trees according to the Eight Tactical Formations devised by the military strategist Zhuge Liang. Once among these trees, all he has to do is dart to the left, or make a few leaps right, and no-one can find him.

"The Heretic is exceptionally gifted, you know. He's not just a martial great, he's also a master of the four scholarly arts – zither, chess, calligraphy and painting. And he's an expert in medicine, divination, astrology, physiognomy, agriculture, irrigation, economics and military strategy. It's a shame he has to torment the Hoary Urchin, and an even greater shame that I can't beat him. But you're right. The Heretic may be eccentric and unpredictable, but he is no villain."

Guo Jing stood for a moment in awe of Apothecary Huang's vast knowledge, and then he remembered Zhou Botong's tale. "What happened after you fell from the tree?"

"Ha! You finally think of asking me to continue the story!" Zhou Botong slapped his thigh merrily. "That palm strike from Viper Ouyang took the wind out of me. The pain was unbearable. For a moment, I thought I was paralysed. But, when I saw him march inside the temple, I made myself run after him in spite of my injury. He was already standing at the altar, his hand reaching over my brother's coffin for the Manual. It was so frustrating. I was already hurt, and I couldn't beat him anyway. My martial nephews were still dealing with the other attackers. Suddenly – pang! – slivers of wood flew from the casket. The lid splintered—"

"Viper Ouyang smashed—?"

"No! It was my brother!"

Guo Jing's eyes widened and he gaped at Zhou Botong, unsure if his ears were deceiving him.