1

The condors flew through the dark and heavy night. Guo Jing, clinging to the bird's neck, called to Ulaan using his internal strength, urging the Fergana horse to keep pace on the ground.

The only light came from the mountaintop blaze they had fled. There was not a hint of the moon overhead. Not a single star in sight.

The condors were exceptionally strong, but soon the load of a fully grown human began to tell. As each flap of their wings grew more strained, they dipped lower and lower.

The moment they touched down, Guo Jing rushed over to check on Lotus. She was draped lifeless over the female condor's back. Qiu Qianren's Iron Palm strike had thrust her to the very brink of death. He quickly undid the sash that he had wound around the bird to keep Lotus secure in flight, and massaged her acupressure points. It was a long time before she opened her eyes.

Guo Jing stood rooted to the spot, cradling her in his arms, unsure what to do. He wanted to ask her for advice, but she was too groggy to speak.

He peered into the black wilderness, his wits still scrambled from their narrow escape. He wanted to summon Ulaan but feared giving away their position. The belligerent Qiu Qianren must still be hunting for them with his Iron Palm Gang followers.

At length, he took small, cautious steps, his legs swallowed up by dense undergrowth. There was no path, no trail, just thorns tearing at his trousers, scoring his skin, but pain was the least of his concerns right now. He trudged on, deeper and deeper into the inky night.

He forced his eyelids apart as wide as possible, yet he could make out little in the gloom. He advanced gingerly, worried that he might step into a void, a pit or a gorge. However slow his progress, he had to keep going, in case the Iron Palm Gang were still in pursuit.

He plodded on for more than two li, until a star twinkling at the sky's edge to his left caught his attention. He squinted at the faint glimmer, trying to work out its position in the heavens to get his bearings, and realized it was the glow of a lantern.

It could be a settlement! Guo Jing was overjoyed.

He shifted Lotus from his arms onto his back and broke into a jog, heading directly for the light. In no time at all, he had covered another li, and the shrubbery seemed to have thickened into a forest. The beacon, though dim, hailed him through the branches. He plowed on, and, before long, stumbled onto a track that twisted and coiled through the woods. Then, the flicker disappeared. He scaled the nearest tree to reorientate himself.

The lamplight had somehow moved. It was now behind him.

He hopped down and waded through the vegetation in the direction of the glow, only to stop when he realized it had moved again. He climbed up another tree, jumped down, darted ahead—again and again—but it kept shifting, so that it was always at his back.

No closer to the light than when he had first spotted it, Guo Jing discovered they were now buried so deep in the thicket that the condors would not be able to locate them. His head spun from running round and round after the elusive gleam, and then it struck him. He had been disorientated like this before. There was something strange about the paths in these woods.

Guo Jing ran through his options. I could jump from tree to tree. But what if I stumble? I've got Lotus on my back. She'll be scratched by the branches! Yet I can't sit here and wait for daybreak. Her injury needs tending …

One thing became apparent: bumbling around like a headless fly would achieve nothing. He stood still, collected himself and smoothed his breathing.

"Go right, at an angle," Lotus whispered.

"How are you feeling?"

Relief washed over Guo Jing. She's conscious! But all he got in reply was a worrying grunt into the back of his neck. He followed her directions without another word, and on the seventeenth step, he heard:

"Left. Eight steps."

He obeyed.

"Turn around. Thirteen steps."

Guo Jing forged ahead through the pitch-black forest, twisting and turning as Lotus instructed. Although shrouded in a fog of pain, she had gleaned enough about the trail from his blundering to realize that it was man-made and mapped out according to the principles of the Five Elements and the Mysterious Gates. If it were formed naturally, she would have been as hopelessly befuddled as Guo Jing was, but her father Apothecary Huang had devoted a lifetime of study to this very subject and taught her much about it. She had the ability to navigate a path through this wood with her eyes closed.

Lotus pointed left, then right; from time to time, they were forced to backtrack to make progress. Guo Jing felt they were meandering farther and farther from their goal, but, before long, he found himself clear of the trees and saw what he had been chasing.

Light, straight ahead. Not a lantern, but lamplight spilling from two thatched huts, diffused by a white mist.

He ran.

"No!"

Too late.

Aiyooo! Guo Jing found himself knee deep in mud, stuck fast in a bog. He mustered his qi and sprang, upward and back, freeing his legs from the mire. The stink of peat assaulted his nostrils.

"Sir, we beg you to grant us entry. One of us is grievously hurt," he said, projecting his voice. "We seek only a drink for our parched lips and a brief respite under your roof."

He waited for a reply. Nothing. Absolute silence. He asked again. Still no response. He restated his request for the third time.

"You've managed to get this far. You can surely find your way in," a woman answered, making no effort to hide her displeasure.

Guo Jing would rather camp in the wild than impose himself on an inhospitable stranger, but Lotus was in no state to brave the elements. She needed shelter. How were they going to cross this quagmire surrounding the shacks? He described their predicament to his half-conscious beloved.

"Tell me about the huts," she mumbled with difficulty. "One round, one square?"

Guo Jing strained to make out their silhouettes through the haze. A heartbeat later, he cried, "You're right!" She never ceased to surprise him.

"We can cross the bog from the opposite side," she said, wheezing. "Go all the way round." Once he reached the spot she knew to be the starting point, she stopped him. "Now, face the light and walk straight ahead, three steps. Next, diagonal left, four steps. Then, straight again, three steps. After that, four steps to the right, also at an angle. Weave your way forward, straight, left, straight, right. Count your steps. Don't get it wrong."

Guo Jing probed with his toes, and, as Lotus had foretold, he found a foothold—a wooden stake buried in the sludge. Feeling his way through the slough according to her instructions, he reached another post, then another. Some were at an angle, others wobbled. Were it not for his superb lightness kung fu, he would have toppled into the morass after a few steps.

Keeping his mind focused and his breathing under control, he managed to cross the swamp by the one hundred and nineteenth step, alighting on firm ground in front of the square hut, but there was no opening or entrance along the perimeter wall.

"Jump in from here. Land on your left," she breathed.

Guo Jing tightened his arms around Lotus, making sure she would not be jolted, and sprang over the wall as he had been told. When he touched down, he was awed by her ability to anticipate every detail of their new surroundings.

The courtyard was split in two. A pond to the right, and to the left, solid ground.

He crossed this unusual garden and headed toward the hut. The entrance was wide open; no doors guarded this circular moon gate.

"Go in. It's safe."

2

"Master, we ask for your forbearance. Circumstances have compelled us to impose on you." Guo Jing allowed time for an answer that never came before stepping across the threshold.

The room's furnishings were spartan. Standing in his way was a long table, on which seven oil lamps were arranged in the shape of the Northern Dipper constellation. Beyond, a grizzle-haired woman sat on her haunches, a hemp robe draped over her shoulders. She had heard them come in, but her eyes did not wander for an instant from the clusters of bamboo slips that were spread out across the floor.

With great tenderness, Guo Jing placed Lotus on a chair. She looked waxen, even in the warm glow of the firelight, without a tinge of color to her cheeks. The sight made his heart sore. He wanted to ask the old woman for a cup of water, but the words caught in his throat—he could not bring himself to interrupt her.

Lotus, after a short rest, revived somewhat and grew curious about their reluctant host. The bamboo slips that so captivated the woman were all about the same size, each roughly four inches long and one-fifth of an inch wide. They were counting rods, arranged in four rows to calculate—Lotus scanned the groupings—the square root of fifty-five thousand, two hundred and twenty-five. She could see that the woman had already worked out the first two numbers of the answer, two and three, and was moving the slips to determine the third and final.

"Five. Two hundred and thirty-five," Lotus blurted out.

The woman whipped around and fixed the intruders with a glare before turning back to her mathematical problem.

For the first time, Guo Jing and Lotus were able to see their host's face. Her forehead was marked by deep wrinkles, but the skin on her cheeks was smooth and unblemished. Her features were delicate and she seemed to be no more than forty years old, though the lines on her brow and the graying hair belonged to someone at least two decades older. They wondered what hardship could age a person so.

At length, the woman stopped working with the counting rods.

Five! The same as the little girl's guess. She glanced at Lotus in bewilderment; then her eyes hardened. You just got lucky! Now leave me in peace!

She turned away and noted "two hundred and thirty-five" on a piece of paper, then reset the slips to calculate the cube root of thirty-four million, twelve thousand, two hundred and twenty-four.

In the time it took the woman to place the counting rods into six rows and work out the first number, which was three, Lotus had reached the solution: "Three hundred and twenty-four."

The woman sneered in derision, assuming that she was spouting nonsense, and continued to switch the slips around for the time it takes to drink a pot of tea. At last, she arrived at the result.

Three, two, four.

She stood up, stretched and shot Lotus a black look.

"Come with me." She scowled, pointing to the inner chamber, then picked up an oil lamp from the long table and disappeared inside.

Guo Jing helped Lotus to her feet and guided her into the room. The wall was curved and a layer of sand covered the floor—vertical strokes, horizontal lines and circles were scratched into this temporary surface. There were also characters and short phrases inscribed around the marks, such as Supreme, Heaven Unknown, Earth Unknown, Man Unknown and Matter Unknown.

Guo Jing hovered at the entrance, unable to make any sense of the writing on the floor and wary of disturbing it if he took another step, whereas Lotus, who had been taught mathematics and advanced reckoning skills by her father, instantly recognized the symbols and words—they represented some of the more difficult calculations that were in the process of being solved. These equations, though complex, could be worked out methodically by anyone familiar with the Heaven Unknown technique.

Steadying herself against Guo Jing, Lotus pulled the Dog Beater from her belt and started scribbling in the sand. She solved the seven or eight questions marked on the floor in the twinkling of an eye.

The woman had been struggling with those equations for several months, and seeing them resolved with such ease sent her into a stupor. After a long silence, she asked, "Are you human?"

Lotus smiled, then tried to explain through ragged gasps for air: "The methods of the Heaven Unknown or the Four Unknowns aren't difficult. You do realize there are nineteen unknowns altogether, don't you?

"Beyond 'Man' is Spirit, Luminance, Cloud, Nebula, Rampart, Tower, Height, Above and Heaven;

Beneath 'Man' is Earth, Below, Decrease, Descent, Decease, Wellspring, Darkness and Specter.

"Well, things do get complicated when you try to solve the Nineteenth Unknown."

All color drained from the woman's face. She slumped on the sand and buried her face in her hands, struggling to wrap her mind around the implications of the girl's words. And yet, when she eventually looked up, she sounded almost glad. "You're a hundred times more skilled in reckoning than me. Now, how would you solve this? Line up the numbers one to nine in three columns of three. Whether down, across or diagonal, the sum must be fifteen."

Lotus chuckled to herself. That's a child's game! The Nine Halls Method is the foundation of Peach Blossom Island, and Papa applied it along with the interaction of the Five Elements.

"The significance of the Nine Halls,

The method in the Hallowed Turtle."

Lotus chanted as she scrawled on the floor with the Dog Beater, her voice still weak from her injury.

"Four and two as shoulders, eight and six are feet.

Three on the left, seven on the right,

Nine as crown and one as shoe,

In the center five sits tight."

Every last vestige of life now left the woman's already ashen cheeks. "I thought I invented this, but it's so common that there's even a verse about it."

"The Nine Halls Diagram is the most basic form. There are grids of four by four, five by five, even of a hundred, and none of them is that complex. Take the four-by-four as an example. First, you write down the numbers in four columns, then you start swapping positions, beginning with the four corners. One is moved to sixteen, four is switched with thirteen. Then the four numbers in the middle trade places: six with eleven, seven with ten. The sum of each row, column or diagonal line is always thirty-four."

The woman drew on the sand as Lotus explained and was startled by the simplicity of the solution.

"We can also replace the squares of the Nine Halls with the octagons of the Eight Trigrams, so eight times nine is seventy-two. We start by writing a number from one to seventy-two on each side of the octagon." Lotus illustrated her workings on the sand as she spoke, halting from time to time to catch her breath. "Done right, the total of each individual Eight Trigram will always be two hundred and ninety-two. And there'll be thirteen octagons together—the original nine converted from each square of the Nine Halls, plus four more that sit in-between. You've probably never heard of the Script of River Luo and its many variations. I wouldn't have known any of this without my teacher."

Gaping at the complex configuration of numbers on the floor, the woman hauled herself unsteadily to her feet.

"Who are you, miss?" Just as she uttered those words, her face contorted and she clutched at her heart. Reaching into the inside pocket of her robe, she found a vial and swallowed a green pill contained within.

It was some time before her discomfort eased.

"Never mind!" She sighed as tears rolled down her cheeks.

Guo Jing and Lotus exchanged glances, feeling a little awkward thanks to their host's odd obsession and extreme response. They waited for her to calm herself. Just then, shouts and cries rose from the forest.

"Friends or foes?" the woman asked.

"Foes," Guo Jing said.

"The Iron Palm Gang?"

"Yes."

The woman cocked her head and listened.

"Leader Qiu leads the pursuit personally … Who are you?" she growled.

Guo Jing stepped in front of Lotus protectively and said in a loud, clear voice: "We are disciples of Chief Hong the Divine Vagrant Nine Fingers. My martial sister was injured by Qiu Qianren of the Iron Palm Gang. If the Elder has dealings with the Gang and cannot offer us refuge, then we shall bid you farewell now." He bowed low and turned to support Lotus.

"So young. So headstrong. You may escape, but will she?" A faint smile played on the woman's features. "So, you're students of Count Seven Hong. No wonder you have such skills…" She trailed off as her attention was drawn outside, to the noise the Iron Palm Gang was making. One moment they sounded deafeningly close, the next faraway and faint.

"They won't find the way in, don't worry. Even if they do, you are my guests, and I, the Supreme … Madam Ying, am not accustomed to being intimidated in my own home." For years, Madam Ying had been referring to herself as the Supreme Reckoner. Yet, confronted by this young woman, who was a hundred times more adept in the arts of mathematics, she was too ashamed to use that title.

Guo Jing wrapped his hand over his fist to show his gratitude. Madam Ying loosened the clothes around Lotus's shoulder to examine her wound. Frowning, she produced the vial again and dissolved a green pill in a bowl of water.

Lotus took the bowl, but did not drink from it immediately. She could not decide whether she was willing to trust this woman.

Madam Ying noted her hesitation and said, smoldering with injured pride, "You've been struck by Qiu Qianren's Iron Palm kung fu. You think you can survive without my help? If I want you dead, I just need to be patient for a few days. The pill is for the pain. If you don't want it, fine!" She snatched the bowl and splashed the content onto the sand.

"How could you!" Furious, Guo Jing lifted Lotus on his back and made for the doorway.

"My house is not an inn. You cannot come and go as you please." A counting rod in each hand, Madam Ying planted herself at the exit.

You've left me with no choice, Guo Jing thought, laden with guilt. "Elder, pardon my impertinence." He bent slightly from the knee and raised his arm. Tracing an arc in the air, he thrust. Haughty Dragon Repents.

The attack contained a mere fifth of his strength. After all, he just wanted to get out, he had no reason to hurt the woman. Her response would determine his next move—strike with more force or to pull back altogether.

Madam Ying leaned back a fraction and flicked her left arm up, brushing Guo Jing's blow aside.

Drawn in by her countermove, Guo Jing stumbled half a step forward. Madam Ying was also caught out, her footing slipping a little on the dry sand. Both were taken aback by the other's skill.

"Boy, show me everything your shifu has taught you." She aimed a counting rod at the Pool at the Bend acupoint in the crook of his right arm.

Sensing a deadly sting lurking in the strike, Guo Jing pulled away and launched another move from the Dragon-Subduing Palm. Several exchanges later, he recognized that Madam Ying's martial training—supple and yin to the extreme—was his exact opposite. Not a single one of her attacks was straightforward; there was always a malevolent twist. If it were not for the Competing Hands technique, which gave him the ability to cast two unrelated kung fu moves at the same time, he would have taken a nasty hit or two.

Proceeding with increased caution, Guo Jing put more strength in his palm thrusts, but to little effect. Each twirl of her arm seemed limp and weak, and yet her onslaught flowed like spilled mercury, slipping between the smallest gap, impossible to predict or to block.

Another handful of moves later, Guo Jing was forced to retreat two paces. Count Seven Hong's advice on tackling Lotus's Cascading Peach Blossom Palm came to his mind: Ignore whatever she's doing. Every move that comes your way—feint or true—you answer with a Haughty Dragon Repents.

Still, he wavered. It was not in his character to seek to hurt a stranger. Yes, this was a place of ill luck. Yes, she did not seem to be a kind person. But there was no reason for emnity between them. All he wanted was to get out. He had no wish fight her and absolutely no desire to hurt her. And so, he had been holding back, but he knew what the price for one passing moment of distraction would be—not only his life, but Lotus's too …

Guo Jing took a deep breath. Lifting his elbows slightly, he fired a right-handed punch while propelling his left palm forward. Swift and slow at once, this was the sixteenth move of the Dragon-Subduing Palm, Crunch Frost as Ice Freezes.

The movement contained an energy that was at once firm and supple, creating a tension of opposites that could fluidly adapt to counter any assault. Count Seven Hong's martial foundation was pure yang, as expressed by the supreme firmness of his strength, yet, like the saying from I'Ching—"From the aged yang, a youthful yin springs"—at the very extreme of this firm state was a strand of suppleness. In each of the eighteen Dragon-Subduing Palms, the two divergent forces coexisted and intermingled to a point at which they were indistinguishable.

Madam Ying sucked in a quick gulp of air and swiveled sideways. She managed to dodge the punch and the kick flying at her, but she could not move fast or far enough to avoid the horizontal swipe of his left palm that followed them. She was struck square on the right shoulder.

Guo Jing knew she would either be thrown against the earthen wall, and that part of the hut would collapse on impact, or her body would crash right through it to land in the courtyard outside. And yet, she defied him. The instant it made contact, his palm skidded off her robe.

As if she were slathered in a thick coat of grease.

The brunt of the blow might have missed its target, but it was still strong enough to rock Madam Ying to the core. The bamboo slips she had been clutching clattered to the floor.

Guo Jing pulled back, unnerved.

Nimble and deft, Madam Ying recovered swiftly. She touched her fingers together to form two beaks, pecking at the Spirit Seal and Jade Hall acupressure points on Guo Jing's chest.

Her technique is just like Brother Zhou's, Guo Jing thought, impressed by the level of skill on display. Having sparred with Zhou Botong hundreds and thousands of times, he knew he would not be fast enough to block her, but he could steal in with a counterattack to push her away.

He tilted back marginally and swung his arm, driving an enormous force toward her shoulder.

Madam Ying realized her humerus would shatter if Guo Jung's thrust made contact. She skimmed away from it with the same Weatherfish Slip technique as before.

Guo Jing jumped back several steps. What fascinating kung fu, he marveled. My energy simply glides off her!

Madam Ying had retreated an extra few steps to put more distance between them. How has he mastered such intricate techniques at his young age? Is it because he was taught by one of the Greats? she thought sourly. I've been living here, alone, cut off from the world, for more than a decade. I've worked night and day on my martial capabilities. I thought I had invented an unassailable repertoire, that I was almost ready to leave this forsaken place to rescue him. Yet, it turns out that, next to this girl, I am a novice in reckoning, and, against this unweaned boy, I stand no chance, even when he is carrying the girl on his back; I cannot beat him, even when he holds his strength in check to avoid injuring me. Does it mean all these years have been wasted? That all the sacrifices I made are for nothing? Am I supposed to forget about vengeance, forget about freeing him? All these doubts and questions were resulting in a deluge of tears.

Guo Jing felt awful that he had made the woman cry. "This junior has been most impertinent. I did not mean to hurt you. Please pardon me, Elder. Please let us go."

Madam Ying marked, as the boy addressed her, how his gaze kept flitting back toward the girl, to check on her, and those glances contained so much love and concern. A flood of envy and rage overtook her—she who had suffered so many misfortunes, who had been torn from her true love. How dare these lovebirds invite themselves into her house and dash her hopes of ever being reunited with him!

"You don't need to guard her against me." Resentment sharpened her tone. "She was struck by Qiu Qianren's Iron Palm kung fu. A blackness has now shrouded her face. She's only got three days left."

Guo Jing whipped around to look at Lotus, who was still draped on his back. Just like the woman had said, a faint inky cloud had darkened her brow. The sight brought a chill to his heart, followed by a surge of hot blood. He wrapped his arms tighter over Lotus's back. "How … how are you feeling?"

Lotus knew the woman was telling the truth. She had been dogged by a burning sensation in her chest and abdomen, and yet, her limbs were ice cold. "Will you stay with me? Please?"

"I won't take even half a step away from you!" Guo Jing said, forcing down a sob.

Gently, he settled her by the wall and sat down to join her. Taking her right hand, he touched it against his left, thinking he would try the healing method in the Nine Yin Manual to smooth the erratic flow of her qi, though he could not be sure that this woman would not attempt to foil the endeavor. The slightest interference from her would mean instant death for Lotus and serious injury for him, but it was a risk he was ready to take.

Summoning his inner neigong strength, he sent it gently through his palm, but Lotus did not respond at all. Puzzled, he propelled a little more energy into her hand.

Wah!

Blood shot from her lips, staining the front of her dress.

"Lotus!"

Guo Jing could not take his eyes off the bright red splatters on the white fabric.

"I've no neigong left." Lotus's chest heaved laboriously. "This won't work. Don't—don't cry."

"Whatever you're doing with your internal force, it'll only kill her faster," Madam Ying sneered. "Say your goodbyes now. Even if you stay right by her, she only has three days."

Guo Jing turned his tear-filled eyes on their host, beseeching her to stop stinging them with her cruel words.

For more than a decade, Madam Ying had been curdling in shattered dreams of lost love, growing ever more embittered and spiteful. She was in fact thrilled to have the chance to bear witness to the catastrophe that was befalling these young sweethearts and she had many more scathing remarks in store for them.

Yet, that despondent look reminded her of … Wait … Had the heavens sent them here to deliver her revenge?

"Yes, it must be so," she muttered to herself. "At last! At last…"

3

The yelling and shouting grew louder again. After trekking round and round the forest all night, the Iron Palm Gang remained convinced that the young couple had taken refuge somewhere within it, but they were too disorientated by the landscape to tell left from right.

"Qiu Qianren, the Leader of the Iron Palm Gang, seeks an audience with Madam Ying, the Supreme Reckoner." A stream of powerful neigong carried his voice inside the hut, against the howling of the wind.

Madam Ying headed to a window and paused to gather her qi at the Elixir Field in her lower belly. "Pardon me, Leader Qiu, I do not receive visitors from the outside world. Death awaits those who venture into my black swamp." She sent her rejoinder far into the night.

"Madam, I am certain a boy and a girl have entered this swamp of yours. Allow me to deal with them."

"You have grossly underestimated my craft with that assumption."

A hollow laugh rang out, then the clamor of the Iron Palm Gang grew dim and distant.

Madam Ying turned to Guo Jing. "Do you want her to live?"

Caught out by the question, he stood gaping, then fell onto his knees. "If the senior Elder would offer help—"

"Am I so old as that?" A thick frost descended on Madam Ying's face, cold and hard.

"No, no, no, not at all."

Her eyes softened and her attention drifted over to the window. "'Not at all' … Still, I have grown old," she said in muted tones.

Guo Jing was now fretting over his clumsy attempt to show respect, which had clearly offended their host. Would she rescind her offer? He was desperate to explain himself, to let her know how much they would appreciate her assistance, but he had never felt more tongue-tied.

Madam Ying marked the mounting fluster in the boy, the beads of sweat forming on his forehead, which gathered speed as they rolled down. She sighed. If he had shown me even one-tenth of the affection this dolt is demonstrating now, she thought, this life of mine would not have been wasted. Then she began to hum:

"For the fourth time the loom is ready,

To weave a pair of lovebirds so they can take flight.

Pity the hair that grows gray before its time!

The ripples of spring among green grass,

The chill of dawn lurking in the deep,

In each other scarlet feather bathe."

The lyric poem sounded very familiar to Guo Jing, but he could not think where he had first heard it. His second shifu Zhu Cong? Lotus?

"Do you know who wrote that?" he asked under his breath. "What does it mean?"

"I don't know. I've never heard it before." Lotus shook her head. "'Pity the hair that grows gray before its time.' What a great line! Lovebirds, you know, mandarin ducks, have a streak of white on their heads…" She sneaked a peek at Madam Ying, awed by how her locks matched her song.

Then where did I hear it? And from whom? Questions whirled in Guo Jing's mind. Not Lotus's father. Or Squire Lu when we were at Roaming Cloud Manor. Yet, I know it … Why am I troubling myself over a poem when Lotus's life is at stake? The Master must know a way to save her. Why else would she pose that question? I will do whatever she asks, if it gives us hope.

Madam Ying had also retreated into her past—rapturous moments, heartsore encounters … Conflicting emotions bubbled in her chest. Joy and sorrow flitted across her features. Suddenly, she snapped out of her reverie and looked Guo Jing in the eye.

"Only one person in this world can treat her injury."

"Please, Elder—no, no—please, Master, please help her. We shall be forever grateful." He made three heartfelt kowtows.

"Don't bow to me. Do you think I'd be in this damp and dank place if I had the skill to revive her?"

Guo Jing had learned from his mistake and kept his mouth shut.

"Well, I must say you're blessed by the heavens," Madam Ying went on. "First, you stumbled upon me. And I happen to know of this healer and his whereabouts. And, as luck would have it, he lives within three days' journey of here. Whether he is willing to help … that, I cannot say."

"I'll beg him on my knees! Surely he won't stand by and let her die."

"It's human nature to stand by and do nothing. Any fool can beg. Is that enough to secure help? What can you offer him? Why does he have to help you?" Madam Ying's tone was full of bile.

Guo Jing bit his lips and nodded. He was afraid that he might speak out of turn again and crush this one chance Lotus had.

Madam Ying indicated a doorway to her left. "She can rest over there."

Thanking their host, Guo Jing helped Lotus into the side chamber and lifted her onto a bamboo daybed. The woman headed into the square room and sat down at the desk to write. She prepared three notes, wrapped them individually in cloth and sewed them shut with thread.

"Once you're out of the forest, head northeast for Peach Spring. I expect the Iron Palm Gang are waiting in ambush. If you manage to get away, open this white pouch when you get to the town. It has instructions on what to do next. You must not look into any of the pouches before the appointed time."

Promising to follow her instructions to the letter, Guo Jing reached out, but Madam Ying drew back. "Not so hasty. If he refuses to help, I won't ask anything in return, but if she lives—"

"We shall of course repay the gift of life," Guo Jing pledged.

"You must return within one moon's time," Madam Ying said to Lotus, "and live with me for one year."

"Why?" There was a trace of tension in Guo Jing's tone.

"It's got nothing to do with you!" she snapped. "It's her I'm asking."

"You want me to teach you the principles of the Mysterious Gates. I accept, of course. I give you my word."

Madam Ying handed the pouches to Guo Jing, one white, one yellow, one red. With gratitude, he tucked them into his inside shirt pocket for safekeeping and got down on his knees to kowtow, but Madam Ying hopped out of the way.

"No need to thank me. We don't know each other. We share no kinship. I have no need to help you. I wouldn't have spent all this energy even if we were acquainted. Let me be perfectly plain. I don't want your gratitude. I am doing this because it serves me. Only the self-seeking endure."

Her words grated against every fiber of Guo Jing's being. He gritted his teeth and put up with it for Lotus's sake, hoping his face did not betray him. He knew full well that this would not be the time to debate ethics, even if he had been born with a gifted tongue.

"You must be hungry. I'll bring you some congee." Madam Ying retreated from the room again.

Lotus was half dozing on the daybed, trying to conserve energy. Guo Jing sat next to her, besieged by a thousand thoughts. Madam Ying returned shortly with a wooden tray bearing two bowls of steaming hot sinica-rice porridge, a large plate of sliced guinea fowl and a small dish of cured fish.

Ever since he had realized there was hope yet for Lotus, Guo Jing had been aware of his grumbling stomach, and now the sight of food made his mouth water. He thanked their host and touched Lotus's hand. "Will you eat something?"

She parted her eyelids a fraction and shook her head. "I don't want to eat. My chest hurts."

"My pill would have helped."

Ignoring Madam Ying's provocation, Lotus said to Guo Jing, "Give me another Dew of Nine Flowers."

The precious panacea had been a parting gift from Zephyr Lu after their stay at Roaming Cloud Manor. Lotus had since kept them close to her person in an inside pocket. Though the pills had no healing power, they were effective in dulling pain and calming the nerves, helping both Count Seven Hong and Guo Jing when they were injured by Viper Ouyang.

Guo Jing removed a ceramic bottle from her robe, unscrewed its cap and took out one pill with great care.

"Is that the Dew of Nine Flowers? Let me see!"

Madam Ying's eyes were fixed on the crimson pills. Neither Guo Jing nor Lotus had noticed the tremor that passed through her when the restorative was first mentioned.

Alarmed by her cutting tone and the malicious glint in her eyes, Guo Jing handed the whole vial over to Madam Ying. A sweet scent drifted to her nose. The fragrance alone brought a sense of calm and coolness to the body.

"Where did you get these? From Peach Blossom Island? Tell me! Tell me!" She gave Guo Jing a deathly stare as she rasped in a voice hoarse with emotion.

Did she get tangled up with one of Papa's disciples? Lotus wondered. That would explain why she wants to learn the Mysterious Gates and the Five Elements.

"She is the daughter of the Lord of Peach Blossom Island," Guo Jing said.

"Old Heretic Huang's child?" Madam Ying jumped up, her eyes flashing with spite, ready to lunge.

Nodding, Guo Jing shifted over to shield Lotus.

"Give the pouches back to her," Lotus said. "We won't have anything to do with Papa's foe."

But Guo Jing could not bring himself to hand them over.

"Put them down, Guo Jing. I might yet live. And if I die, so what?"

Guo Jing set the life-saving instructions on the side table, for he would never presume to defy Lotus, but he could not hold back the flood of tears pouring down his face.

Madam Ying paid the young couple no heed. Gazing out of the window, she muttered "Heavens!" to herself again and again. Abruptly, she snatched up the pouches and rushed into the next room, still holding the bottle of Dew of Nine Flowers tight in her other hand. She scrabbled about for a while, keeping her back to the doorway, so Guo Jing and Lotus could not see what she was doing.

"Let's go. I can't bear the sight of her," Lotus said just as Madam Ying returned.

"I've been studying the art of reckoning so I can make my way across Peach Blossom Island." The woman seemed to be talking more to herself than to them. "But it's all been in vain—I could work at it for another hundred years and still I wouldn't be able to catch up, not even with the Old Heretic's daughter. I'll accept this as my lot and I shall not complain. Take them and go!"

She stuffed her instructions and the pill bottle into Guo Jing's hands. Then she looked Lotus in the eye.

"The Dew of Nine Flowers is harmful in your current state. Don't take them, and don't forget your promise. Your father ruined my life. I'd rather let the dogs eat this." She tossed the food out of the window.

Insulted as never before, Lotus could not let this crone have the last word. Then, an idea came to her, better than any retort. She took Guo Jing's arm, pulled herself onto her feet and wrote three reckoning questions in the sand with the Dog-Beating Cane.

The first was: "The Sindhu written calculation of the seven brilliances and nine luminaries," which included the sun, the moon and the stars—Water, Fire, Wood, Metal, Earth, Rahu and Ketu.

The second was: "The problem of distributing silver and issuing rice to soldiers whose numbers are conscripted in cubic multiples."

The last one was the Problem of the Ghost Valley Sage:

Here are objects whose number is unknown: counted by threes two remains, counted by fives three remains, counted by sevens two again remains. How many are there?

Once Lotus had set down these cryptic words, she shuffled out of the hut, leaning on Guo Jing's arm. When Guo Jing got to the perimeter wall, he turned to take one last look at their eccentric host. She stood staring at the ground, clutching the counting rods. He then lifted Lotus onto his back and picked his way through the swamp and the woods at her promptings, placing his feet with care as he kept a tally under his breath.

"What did you draw on the sand?" he asked when they were clear of the strange landscape surrounding Madam Ying's huts.

"I've given her three problems to solve." A spark of the old, mischievous Lotus. "Which, I dare say, will take her more than six months to figure out. By then, all her hair will have turned white! Serves her right for being so rude!"

"Why does she bear such a grudge against your father?"

"Papa's never mentioned her … She must have been very beautiful when she was younger. Don't you think?"

Lotus wondered if there could be a romantic link. Maybe Madam Ying wanted to marry Papa! She snickered inside. That must be it. What a hare-brained woman. If he doesn't like you, throwing a hissy fit won't make him change his mind!

"Beautiful or not, I don't care. As long as she doesn't have second thoughts and come after us for the instructions."

"Let's take a look! I doubt she means us well."

"No! She said we have to wait until we get to Peach Spring." Guo Jing was adamant that they should obey Madam Ying's strictures and Lotus soon relented.

AS THE new day dawned, Guo Jing climbed a tree to check for any signs of the Iron Palm Gang. It appeared that they had given up. Relieved, he whistled several times, and soon he heard the beating of Ulaan's hooves. Not long after that, the condors were sighted on the horizon, winging their way toward them.

Just as Guo Jing had finished helping Lotus onto the Fergana horse, a clutch of trees not far away burst into life. Dozens of black-clad men jumped down from the branches. They had lain in wait all night, but Qiu Qianren was not among them.

"Fare ye well!"

A gentle squeeze from Guo Jing's legs and the colt took flight. He felt as if they were airborne, the wind rushing past his ears. In no time at all, the Iron Palm Gang were nothing but a smudge on the horizon.

4

By midday, Ulaan had covered more than a hundred li. Guo Jing stopped at a small roadside stall for a snack. The chest pains were still troubling Lotus and she could barely manage half a bowl of thin congee. Somehow, eating made her breathing short and shallow. She collapsed without warning.

Panic seized Guo Jing. He knew they could not travel with Lotus in this state, so he asked the stall keeper for a room.

"Sir, for years our soil has been depleted and our crops have failed. Poor country folks like us can barely keep a roof over our heads. If you go five li farther, you'll find a rice merchant. His shop is big, he may have a bed if you offer him silver."

Thanking him, Guo Jing carried the unconscious Lotus over to Ulaan. Before long, they arrived at a row of three sizeable houses behind a high brick wall. Wheelbarrows stood by an open main gate, one loaded with a dozen or so sacks of rice, one with firewood and black coal, and the last with vegetables, meat, sweet potatoes and seasonings.

Guo Jing approached the entrance and found an old man inside, drinking tea on a bench. Around sixty or seventy years of age, he had a kindly face and a headful of silver hair, but his cheeks and chin were perfectly smooth, unmarked by a single whisker.

"Master, we are travelers and my sister has been struck by a sudden illness. Might we beg a room to rest for the night? We can pay for our stay." He took out a large sycee ingot from his robe and presented it with both hands.

"Of course, I am happy to provide what I can, but this is too much."

"We are forever grateful, Master." Guo Jing set the silver down with a great show of courtesy. "Please take this for now. When we depart tomorrow, we shall present you with another to thank you." The stall keeper's words had stayed with Guo Jing, and he thought that, since the old man was a trader, surely the more money he offered, the more likely he was to find a bed in this place.

"Might I ask your name, sir?" the old man said.

"My surname is Guo, my martial sister's is Huang. How should we address you, Master?"

"Yang is my name. Please, have some tea," he said as he prepared the cups for his visitors.

While Guo Jing helped Lotus onto the bench and checked on her breathing, Old Yang took note of the mud caked on his trousers. It was much darker than the dust and earth staining his shoes and ankles.

"It is no mean feat to come through the forest at night without getting lost," the elderly man observed.

"We were lucky." Guo Jing was too preoccupied to notice the wheels of the handcarts were coated in the same black peat as his trousers.

"We supply food and other necessities to the people living in the forest," Old Yang explained.

Guo Jing nodded, realizing for the first time that Madam Ying might not be self-sufficient. He held a cup to Lotus's lips, helping her drink, before gulping down some tea himself.

The old man led them to a guest room, which was modestly appointed with an unvarnished wooden table and some chairs. Two beds were neatly made up, each with its own gauze canopy, straw mat and thin quilt.

Guo Jing supported Lotus as she lay down, keeping his palm on her back between the shoulder blades over the Spirit Tower pressure point, smoothing her qi slowly and gently. He carefully avoided using the healing method from the Nine Yin Manual, afraid that he might make her cough up blood again.

Some time later, a serving man came in with a simple meal of steamed rice and thin congee accompanied by cured fish and meat. Guo Jing fed Lotus some of the liquid from the gruel. With difficulty, she managed to swallow a few mouthfuls, but she could not bring herself to eat the other dishes.

Guo Jing wolfed down the rest of the food and stretched out in the other bed.

"Keep me company like this forever," Lotus said. "I'd be content even if I were sick for a hundred years."

"If you're sure you won't get bored of me, I'll stay with you for as long as you want."

"What about your Princess Khojin?"

Caught out, it took Guo Jing a short while to come up with a reply. "I might have agreed to marry her, but, first, I'll keep you company for a hundred years—for two hundred years. If she's willing to wait, let her wait." He sighed. "Lotus, I will not leave you, even in death. I'll just have to do her wrong—"

A voice ravaged by age began to sing softly outside, interrupting Guo Jing.

"Welcomed by clean breeze,

Loved by white clouds,

Dream not of silk robes and gold belts.

One thatched hut,

Wild flowers bloom,

Care not who rises or falls, who thrives or fails,

Alone on a humble path, merry am I.

Dawn, to the verdant hills!

Dusk, to the verdant hills!"

"Wonderful," Lotus said weakly. "I've heard many songs set to this 'Goats on the Hill' tune, but never one so well written. I wonder who came up with the lyrics—I'll learn it for Papa." Tapping out the rhythm, she hummed under her breath.

"You're a connoisseur, miss." The old man had overheard her quiet comment. "Do you know the story behind this version?"

"Can you ask him in?"

Guo Jing projected his voice. "Master, please come in."

Old Yang entered and sat on the chair by Lotus's bed.

"Do tell us, sir," Lotus said.

"The song is at least three hundred years old—it is from the Tianbao era of the Tang dynasty."

"Really?" She had not expected such a provenance.

"You have probably noticed my accent. Perhaps you have even surmised that I come from Yunnan."

"We can tell that your enunciation is different from the locals of western Hunan. Softer, more malleable. So, this melodic tone is from Yunnan…" Lotus said, recalling the intonation of the detestable Madam Ying, which shared some similarities with that of this old man. Was she from Yunnan too?

"I was born in Dali, and that was where I grew up. I was sent here some years ago to plant trees and supervise a construction project. When that was completed, I was charged with staying on to supply the woods with essentials."

Lotus nodded, too unwell to speak. It occurred to her that they should not reveal too much about themselves to an associate of Madam Ying—they could not be certain if that woman was friend or foe.

"I could tell from your clothes that you rode through the forest in the night. And since I've had no word from those parts that I should not receive you, I am happy to tell you some old tales if you're interested. You've heard of the Dali Kingdom, have you not?"

Lotus nodded again, and the old man went on.

"During the Tianbao era of the Tang dynasty, Yunnan was known as the Kingdom of Nanzhao, ruled by a king called Geluofeng. He was a powerful man—the Tang Empire and the Tubo Kingdom both tried to win him to their side.

"At that time, the Xuanzong Emperor of Tang was more interested in his Noble Consort Yang than state affairs, and left the running of his country to his two Chancellors, Li Linfu and Yang Guozhong, who was the Consort's paternal cousin. Tempers soon flared at court.

"In the tenth year of Tianbao, Yang Guozhong sent the Governor of Jiannan, Xianyu Zhongtong, on a campaign against the Kingdom of Nanzhao, with an army of eighty thousand men. They rode south, taking Jingzhou and Quzhou, but were soon pushed back north, suffering a terrible defeat in Lunan, losing three-quarters of their number.

"In the thirteenth year of Tianbao, Yang Guozhong sent General Li Mi to attack Nanzhao. He also set off from Jiannan, leading seventy thousand soldiers. King Geluofeng was a skilled tactician, drawing his attackers deep into his own territory, capturing Li Mi and destroying the whole army. Not one man returned to his homeland.

"Thanks to these two aborted conquests, more than a hundred thousand Tang soldiers—prisoners and deserters—ended up in Yunnan. My own ancestor was a minor officer of the Tang army who settled down with a local tribeswoman. But, by my father's generation, our family fortune had dwindled. My father had no choice but to cleanse my body, and I became an eunuch in the palace of the Dali Kingdom."

"We've heard that King Duan of Dali is a wise ruler. It must have been a privilege to serve him."

"You are very knowledgeable, miss." The old man was pleased by her reply. "My ancestors have passed down several other versions of 'Goats on the Hill.' I was told that the tune was very popular in the Tang capital Chang'an. Everyone used to sing it—nobles and commoners alike. The Tang army came from all over China, some from Sichuan, some from Chang'an, and the songs took root in Yunnan with the surviving soldiers who could never go home. Of course, the music was also adapted to the Yunnan way of speaking." Realizing he might be interrupting the young woman's rest, Old Yang bade them farewell.

"Shall we look at Madam Ying's instruction?" Guo Jing asked when they were alone again. He took out the white pouch and unpicked the seam. It was a crudely drawn map inscribed with two short lines:

Follow the route as indicated until you reach a thatched hut next to a waterfall. Open the red pouch when you arrive at this location.

5

The next morning after breakfast, Guo Jing presented Old Yang with another silver ingot. The elderly man resisted at first, but Guo Jing persuaded him to take it as payment for a few flatbreads for the journey.

Riding together on Ulaan, Guo Jing and Lotus followed the trail marked by Madam Ying for seventy or eighty li, until the road began to narrow. In the distance, eight li or so ahead of them, the hills grew mountainous and craggy, closing in around the track so only one person could pass at a time. Guo Jing had no choice but to leave Ulaan at a nearby farmstead and continue on foot with Lotus on his back.

For two hours, he walked. At times, the pass was so narrow that he had to shift Lotus into his arms, and together they slipped through the gap sideways.

The fiery summer was still burning high in the seventh month and the sun continued to scorch everything it touched, yet it could not find its way into this gorge, so the air remained reasonably cool for the time of year.

Guo Jing soon heard his stomach rumble. Without stopping, he tore a flatbread into bite-size pieces for Lotus, before attacking the ones that remained. They disappeared in no time and he regretted his gluttony. His throat was parched; he was desperate for a drink of water. Was that the hum of a brook that he could hear? He picked up his pace.

What he had thought was a gentle trickle grew into a thunderous torrent, its roar amplified by the ravine. The path took him up to a ridge, and, across from where he was standing, a mighty white dragon swooped down from between two mountains. A magnificent waterfall.

He looked down. A small thatched hut sat close to the pool below the cataract, just as Madam Ying had described. He let Lotus rest on a rock, took out the red pouch from his inside shirt pocket and unpicked the thread. He found a short note within:

This injury can only be cured by King Duan …

He muttered the name in surprise as his eyes scanned the message.

Lotus had been drifting in and out of consciousness all morning, exhausted by the journey and numbed by pain, but the mention of King Duan seemed to revive her a little. It also brought to mind Viper Ouyang's words on the raft when they were making their way back to the mainland from the deserted Rosy Cloud Island. The Venom had hinted that King Duan could heal Count Seven Hong's injury. She tried to recall what her father had said about King Duan … King of the South. One of the Five Greats. Ruler of the Kingdom of Dali in Yunnan … Which is many thousands of li yonder, in the southwest corner of the country, without doubt more than three days' journey from where we are now in western Hunan. She sighed in dejection, then leaned on Guo Jing's shoulder to read what that awful woman had written.

This injury can only be cured by King Duan. He has committed much wickedness and thus has retreated to Peach Spring to lead a life of seclusion. Hard it is for outsiders to gain an audience, and to admit to seeking treatment would cause great offense—you are likely to fall at the hands of the fisher, the logger, the farmer or the scholar before reaching his court. To gain an audience with the Southern King, claim that you have come at the bidding of your shifu Count Seven Hong with important news for his ears alone. In his presence, show him the contents of the yellow pouch. Life or death all hang upon this.

Confused by the note, Guo Jing turned to Lotus. "What does she mean? What wickedness did he commit? Why would seeking treatment cause offense? Who are the fisher and the others?"

Lotus was equally perplexed. "I've no idea," she said, frowning. She hated to disappoint Guo Jing.

"Let's go and find out," he said, lifting her onto his back.

GUO JING found the descent quicker and easier than he had anticipated. As he picked his way down, he noticed a man perching on a rock, close to the waterfall and in the shade of a willow tree. His face was shielded by a conical bamboo hat, his body hidden under a straw cape.

When Guo Jing reached the valley floor, he was mystified to see the man fishing with a rod. Could there really be fish in the pool? he wondered. Surely they would be too busy struggling against the currents to notice the bait? He studied the man. He seemed to be in his forties, his sun-scorched face dark like a cast-iron wok. Wiry whiskers bristled from his cheeks. Whatever he intended to catch had his full attention. His eyes did not wander from the depths for a single moment.

Guo Jing settled Lotus by the willow tree and tiptoed to the edge of the water, taking care not to disturb the man. He was eager to see what could be lurking at the bottom of such a fearsome waterfall. At length, he caught a flash of gold from deep in the plunge pool, and the fisher's face also lit up.

The rod bent and bucked against the man's grasp.

A golden fish had taken the bait.

Guo Jing watched in wonderment. The shimmery creature was neither fish nor snake, its head and body wide and flat. He had never seen a living thing quite like it.

"What is it?" he exclaimed, excited.

Just then, another strange golden fish clasped its mouth over the fishing line. The fisher was ecstatic, shifting his grip on his fishing rod, which was rapidly warping at ever more extreme angles. Any moment now, it would fly out of the man's hands … Pak! It snapped in two.

With the line now slack, the pair of curious fish managed to detach themselves from the hook and fishing line, swimming leisurely in circles in front of the fisher, as if to bait him. In the blink of an eye, they slipped into a gap between two boulders. Somehow, they seemed to be unaffected by the churn of the crashing flow.

"Stinker!" the fisher roared, glaring at the insolent boy. "All day, I've been sitting here. And you! You come by and scare them away!" The man jumped to his feet and raised his enormous hands—each as large as a palm-leaf fan—menacingly, ready to give the intruder a good swat. Then, after a moment's conspicuous internal struggle, he settled for clenching his fists, his knuckles popping audibly.

"Forgive me, Uncle," Guo Jing said. "What fish was that?"

"Haven't you got eyes? Fish? Do they look like fish? They're gold wah-wahs."

"What?" Guo Jing giggled at the funny name.

"Are you deaf, stupid boy? I said, gold wah-wahs!"

Guo Jing bowed and cupped his hand to apologize to the man and to appease him. He needed him to point them in the direction of King Duan's retreat.

Lotus could not stand the man's exasperated splutters anymore and said, "You mean golden salamanders, right? What's so special about them? I've got a few pairs at home."

"Oh, really? A few pairs?" The fisher snorted in disbelief and gave the impudent girl an appraising look. He would test her knowledge of these amphibians. "Do you know what they're used for?"

"Used for? Who cares? I like how they look and how they cry wah-wah-wah like a babe. So, I got hold of some to keep as pets."

All at once, the man's tone became almost civil. "If you really do have so many of them at home, lass, do spare a pair for me—for my loss."

"Why?"

"I caught one just now—" he jabbed his finger at Guo Jing—"and his shouting drew the other one out, snapping my fishing rod. These gold wah-wahs are clever. They never fall for the same ruse twice. You scared my gold wah-wahs away, and you need to put that right."

"You'd have only caught one, though. You said so yourself, they don't fall for the same ruse twice."

Scratching his head, but finding no answer for that, he said in a sulk, "Then give me one."

"If you split a golden salamander from its mate, both will die within three days."

"Alright, I was wrong." The fisher wrapped his palm over his fist and bowed three times. "Would you kindly gift me a pair, please?" He was now certain of the girl's familiarity with these unusual creatures.

"Tell me what you're planning to do with them."

"Very well. I'll tell you everything." The fisher realized nothing but the truth would convince this shrewd young woman. "My martial uncle traveled from Sindhu to visit my shifu and came upon this pair of gold wah-wahs on his journey. In his country, they have these venomous creatures that have been causing much harm to humans as well as livestock, but there are few humane ways to get rid of them. Gold wah-wahs happen to be their natural predators. He was going to bring this pair back to Sindhu and breed them. He's entrusted me to look after them during his stay, but—"

"You were careless and they escaped. Into this pool!"

"How did you know?"

"Anyone who's kept them knows how difficult it can be. I had five pairs and two escaped."

The man's eyes glowed with hope. "Give me a pair, please, good lady. You'd still have two pairs and you'll save me from the wrath of my martial uncle."

"Perhaps. Why were you so unpleasant just now?"

"I've got a short temper! I know! I should change. I really should!" It was the fisher's turn to be obsequious. "Brother, I apologize, forgive me. Miss, where do you live? Is it far? Mind if I come with you?"

"Not very close, but not that far. Three or four thousand li, maybe?"

"You're wasting my time, wench!" the fisher spat, waving his fist, which was almost as large as a vinegar vat. He so desired to give this impertinent girl a good thump, but then it occurred to him—she's a girl, a young, willowy girl, I'd kill her with a single punch—and he restrained himself.

"Relax, Uncle." Lotus grinned at the cantankerous man before turning to Guo Jing. She could tell he was ready to intervene if the man did turn violent. "Call the condors."

He did as she asked, unsure how the birds could help.

Guo Jing's whistle resonated in the valley and the fisher realized his lucky escape: Good thing I kept my temper under control. If we did come to blows, I'd suffer a beating at the hands of this lad.

Soon, the condors were in sight. Lotus pulled of a piece of bark from the willow tree and scratched a short note with a throwing needle:

Papa: Send me a pair of golden salamanders with the condors.

Your daughter Lotus presents this note with a bow.

Guo Jing cut two strips from his shirt and tied the message tightly to the male condor's leg.

"Fly to Peach Blossom Island and come back quickly," Lotus said to the birds.

Concerned that the condors would not understand, Guo Jing pointed east and repeated "Peach Blossom Island" three times.

The condors cawed and arched their wings. After circling a few times over their masters, they headed east and soon disappeared into the clouds.

The fisher eyed the boy and the girl. "Peach Blossom Island? Who is Master Apothecary Huang to you?"

"He's my papa," Lotus said, full of pride.

"Oh." The hot-tempered man said no more.

"The condors will be back with your gold wah-wahs in a few days."

The fisher looked the two of them up and down, doubt and suspicion clouding his face.

6

"We have not had the pleasure of learning your name," Guo Jing said with a bow.

"Why are you here? Who sent you?"

"We hope to seek an audience with King Duan." Guo Jing ignored the briskness of the fisher's questions, but he could not bring himself to lie, as Madam Ying had instructed, falsely claiming that they had been sent by Count Seven Hong.

"Shifu has no dealings with the outside world. What do you want with him?"

If it were up to Guo Jing, he would have told the truth, but what if honesty cost them the chance to meet the King of the South?

When Guo Jing hesitated, the fisher scrutinized Lotus and noticed how pale her cheeks were. "You want my shifu to heal you."

Guo Jing moved his head up and down as regret filled his heart. He should have lied from the start.

"He won't see you!" the fisher roared. "And I'll face chastisement. Forget your gold wah-wahs. Leave. Now!"

Surprised by the vehement refusal, Guo Jing stood there, unsure what to do next. At length, he cupped his hands and bowed low. "She is appealing for help as Apothecary Huang's only daughter and the Chief of the Beggar Clan. We hope Uncle would think on Lord Huang and Chief Hong, and show us the way so we can pay King Duan the respect due to a hero of his stature."

The mention of Count Seven Hong instantly calmed the irate man. "She's the Beggar Chief? I don't believe it," he said, shaking his head.

Guo Jing pointed to the bamboo stick in Lotus's hand. "This is the emblem of the Chief of the Beggar Clan, the Dog-Beating Cane. I am sure Uncle recognizes it."

A nod. "Who are you to the Divine Vagrant Nine Fingers?"

"He is our shifu."

"Oh, so you've come to see my shifu on his command?"

Noting Guo Jing's hesitation, Lotus cut in: "Yes."

The fisher looked at his feet and mumbled to himself, "What should I do? Shifu and the Divine Vagrant are very close friends."

Lotus could see that he was deliberating over his response. A little nudge now could open the way for them. "Master Hong asked us to seek an audience with King Duan, firstly to treat my injury, but also to pass on an important message."

"He told you to see 'King Duan'?" The man snapped his head up and glared at her.

"Yes."

"He said 'King Duan'?"

Lotus bobbed her head, realizing the title had roused the surly man's distrust, but she could not unsay what had been said.

"King Duan has long left this world of dust!" The fisher edged threateningly closer.

"He's dead?" Guo Jing and Lotus cried in unison.

"Your Master was with King Duan when he departed. Why would he, of all people, send you to see 'King Duan'? Who really sent you? Tell me why you're here!" He took another menacing step forward and raised his left arm—using it to mask his right, which was darting out to grab Lotus's shoulder.

Guo Jing had his eye trained for the slightest change in the man's stance, but held back from intervening until the attacking hand was no more than one foot from Lotus. Twirling his left palm, Guo Jing thrust his right forward in a Shun the Concealed Dragon.

The effect of this Dragon-Subduing Palm was akin to an invisible defensive wall falling between Lotus and her assailant. If the fisher's blow strayed into its path, it would trigger a burst of energy from Guo Jing. If the man stepped back, then the force contained in the palm strike would dissipate into the air.

Puzzled by the wayward aim of Guo Jing's counter, the fisher nevertheless kept his focus. The girl! His hand was now just inches from her shoulder. An acute pain jolted his arm. A searing heat sizzled his chest. He had not made contact with Guo Jing's palm, but the strength emanating from the young man was so strong that it thrust his attack aside.

The fisher jumped back and pulled his arms in to guard his torso, in antipation of a follow-up. Guo Jing surprised him by relaxing his stance before holding his palm over his fist in a gesture of respect.

Impressed by the boy's restraint, the fisher recognized that he had been thwarted by one of the eighteen Dragon-Subduing Palms, which Count Seven Hong had demonstrated for his shifu. He knew he should not offend a disciple of Chief Hong.

"I can see that you are indeed the Divine Vagrant's students, but your Master didn't send you, did he?" Much of the aggression had left his tone.

Guo Jing nodded, knowing he could not deny it, and wondered how the fisher had figured it out.

At this honest admission, the pugnacious man assumed an almost kindly expression. "Even if the Divine Vagrant himself had come to see my shifu for a cure, this lowly creature would have had to stand in his way. I hope you will pardon me."

"Really? You'd stop Chief Hong?" Lotus could hardly believe her ears.

"Yes. With my life."

What's going on? Lotus was intrigued. One moment he's saying Count Seven was present when King Duan passed on, the next he's saying he'll lay down his life to stop Count Seven from seeking treatment from his shifu, who is undoubtedly King Duan! It makes no sense! Well, one thing is certain. This shifu of his is somewhere up this mountain, and we have to see him.

But how?

She tilted her head back to see as high as she could, but she could not make out the summit. Even judging from where it tore into the clouds, it seemed higher than the middle crag of Iron Palm Mountain. Steeper too. There was hardly any vegetation on its rocky surface. Impossible to find a way up on foot. The waterfall looked as if it was cascading straight from the sky, reminding her of the poet Li Po's famous line:

From the heavens comes the water of the Yellow River.

As her eyes followed the cataract down into the pool, her mind searched for a plan to scale this obstacle. A glint. A swerve. Brilliant gold shooting from the dark depths. She edged toward the verge for a better look.

The golden salamanders! They had burrowed their way under a large rock, but the tips of their tails were still visible, swishing around. She beckoned Guo Jing over.

"Ah! I'll catch them."

"Don't be silly. The water's too fierce."

Without another word, Guo Jing took a deep breath and jumped into the plunge pool, fully clothed and still wearing his shoes. If he could catch these creatures, surely the man would take them to see his shifu. He would find a way to deal with whatever happened next. He could not bear the idea of standing by and doing nothing while the injury ate away Lotus's life force.

"Guo Jing!" Lotus shifted her footing too fast and stumbled forward.

Displaying well-honed reflexes, the fisher grabbed Lotus by the arm, in spite of his astonishment at Guo Jing's descent into the water. Once he had steadied the young woman, he ran into the thatched hut.

In the short time it took Lotus to sit down, Guo Jing had found a way to plant his feet firmly at the bottom of the pool. The plummeting water beat him incessantly, but his body did not even sway.

Slowly, he bent from the waist, arms reaching out. He closed his fingers around the tails of both golden salamanders at the same time.

He tugged. Gently. Terrified of hurting these strange creatures.

Their skin was smooth and slimy. A couple of wiggles and they slipped from his grasp. They delved deeper under the boulder, evading his second attempt at catching them.

Lotus gasped at the near miss. The fisher also sucked in his breath. He had resting on his shoulder a small rowing boat, exceptionally dark in hue, and in one hand, two iron oars. He was ready to launch the craft.

Guo Jing focused his energy in his feet and used the Thousand Jin Load kung fu to root himself to the bed of the pool. Stilling his qi, he wedged his hands under the rock where the strange creatures had taken shelter.

Up, he heaved.

It moved.

Thrilled, he launched a Leap from the Abyss from the Dragon-Subduing Palm. Thrusting with both hands, he lifted the boulder clear.

He then let fly with a Dragon in the Field, hurling the rock sideways. The combined force of the waterfall and the Dragon-Subduing Palm sent it careering over the edge of the plunge pool into the gorge below.

Guo Jing now clutched a golden salamander in each hand. Holding them aloft, he trudged along the base of the pool, step by step, through the relentless thrashing of the cataract against his head and shoulders.

Over the years, the gushing water had gouged a trench of more than two zhang into the bedrock, and Guo Jing had dived right into its very depths. The fisher, amazed that anybody could swim up with the pressure of the waterfall beating down on them, dipped an oar as far into the water as he could so the young man could haul himself ashore.

But Guo Jing knew if he loosened his grip even slightly, it would give the salamanders a chance to escape. Lotus's life depended upon them. Rallying his qi, he flexed his right foot and shot up through the depths. Then he kicked high, planting his left foot on the side of the trench, and propelled himself onto the shore through the unrelenting rush of water.

Lotus was astounded by his control of breathing and strength—this feat was performed not just underwater, but while being battered by a mighty waterfall.

Though Guo Jing's kung fu had undergone marked improvement in the past weeks, it was his desperation to save Lotus that allowed him to tap into abilities yet unknown to him. Now that he was safely on the shore, the sight of the cataract frothing and spluttering was enough to make him dizzy. He could hardly believe that he had jumped in and grappled with it without a second thought.

The fisher was awestruck. All but the greatest martial Masters would have been trapped by the water pressure. To break free required supreme control of qi, exceptional agility in lightness qinggong and remarkable mastery of external kung fu—all at the same time.

The salamanders thrashed in Guo Jing's hands, screeching like bawling babies. Laughing, he thrust them at the fisher. "Now I see why they're called wah-wahs."

The man had just hauled the small boat ashore. He cast down the oars and reached for the precious creatures, but just before he touched them, he yanked his hands back.

"No, I can't. Throw them back into the water."

"Why?" Guo Jing could not understand his change of heart.

"I can never take you to Shifu. If I accept your gold wah-wahs without returning the favor, then I'll be an ingrate, despised by the world."

"They're just fish—nothing to be grateful for! You have your reasons why you can't let us see your shifu. We understand. We won't force you. Just take them, Uncle." Guo Jing bundled the salamanders into the fisher's hands.

Though clearly conflicted, the man held fast to the amphibians.

"Lotus, we both know the saying, 'Life and death are fated, age and year can't be foretold.' If we can't find a cure, I'll carry you on the road to the netherworld. Let's go." Somehow saying this out loud gave Guo Jing solace. In life or in death, he would stand by her.

His earnest words made Lotus well up, but she already had a plan. "Uncle, humor me, please. Or else I'll die wondering, unable to close my eyes, unable to find eternal rest."

"Huh?"

"This mountain is smooth like a mirror. I can't see any trail leading uphill. If you were to let us pass, how would we make our way to the top?"

The fisher hestiated, then decided that they could not ascend without his help, even if they knew the method. "Well, it's not as difficult as it seems. Just around this slope on the right, the water is less fierce. It comes down as rapids, rather than a waterfall. I can row one person upstream with each trip."

"Ah! Farewell, then." Lotus took Guo Jing's elbow to pull herself up, while he cupped his hands to say goodbye.

Relieved to see the young couple walking away, the fisher was reminded by the salamanders' squirming that he needed to secure them sooner rather than later. He rushed into the hut, muttering his thanks.

"Quick! Take the boat!" Lotus whispered in Guo Jing's ear.

He stopped dead. "That … that isn't right."

"Fine! Stick to your precious principles!"

What's more important? Principles or life? Guo Jing could not come to a conclusion. But Lotus had already let go of his arm and was trotting unsteadily, with the help of the Dog Beater, toward the rapids the fisher had just mentioned. Instinct kicked in. Guo Jing grabbed the little boat and hurried after her.

7

Guo Jing tossed the craft into the roiling water, tucked the oars under his arm and scooped Lotus up, carrying her for the last few steps. Then he heard it. A faint fizzing sound, above the rumble of the rapids, something zooming toward them. Secret weapons. He ducked and lunged forward into the boat, pulling Lotus with him.

Lotus's reactions were slowed by the injury and she was hit on her back by one of the projectiles. Luckily, it was deflected by the Hedgehog Chainmail stowed in her knapsack.

The fisher raged and roared, but they could not make out his words above the din of the wild river.

The white water was sweeping them downstream at great speed, closer and closer to the precipice. If they were forced over it, they would be thrown into the ravine below, smashed to pieces. Guo Jing struck an oar into the water and hauled. The boat edged a few feet forward. He grasped a fleeting chance to help Lotus into a more secure position, then dug the blade in again. They gained another few feet against the current.

"Putrid hag! Devious vixen!" Snatches of the fisher's outrage cut through the howls of wind and water.

"I'm the only one being cursed!" Lotus was amused that the fisher refrained from insulting Guo Jing as he flung his land-bound abuse and punches at the air.

Her comment fell on deaf ears. All of Guo Jing's senses were engaged in the battle against the seething water. His arms, fortified with internal strength, struck back with the oars. The little boat's prow pitched violently in the swell. Inch by inch, they were making progress.

The water here might have been less angry than around the waterfall, but, nevertheless, Guo Jing was straining with every particle of his body to propel them forward. His breathing had grown shallow and his cheeks were hot and flushed. Several times he was overwhelmed and they were swept along by the torrent. Each setback proved to be instructive, and soon Guo Jing had worked out a pattern to combat the onslaught of nature: Dragon Whips Tail, launched simultaneously in each hand with the Competing Hands technique. When the might of the Dragon-Subduing Palm surged to the very tip of each blade, it was as if he were rowing on a calm lake.

Lotus laughed. "I doubt that odious man can row as fast as you."

AFTER TWO particularly treacherous stretches and a sharp bend, the stream started to gain in width and the landscape opened out. They could see the river meandering up the mountain, and, with each stroke of the oar, the water became less murky. Though they were still going against the flow, it was offering only mild resistance now.

Soon, the waterway had broadened to more than one zhang across. Lush peach trees lined the shore, interspersed with verdant willows, their tendrils teased by the increasingly gentle current. The banks would be ablaze with peach blossoms at springtide. Even now, clusters of small white flowers were dotted about at the edge of water, infusing the air with their sweet scent.

This calm, bucolic scene was a pleasant surprise, and both Guo Jing and Lotus felt refreshed. The stream was now a luxuriant jade green, veiling the riverbed. Guo Jing dipped an oar straight down to gauge the depth. Not only did it not reach the bottom, it was almost ripped from his grasp by the fierce undertow. He turned his mind back to the task at hand, guiding the boat leisurely upstream to the chirrups of hidden birds.

"If I can't get better, bury me here," Lotus said. "I don't want to go down again."

Guo Jing turned to face her, and was about to offer a few words of comfort when they were plunged into darkness. They had entered a cave. The floral fragrance grew more intense. There was also a renewed fury to the water, accompanied by a buzzing hum that was amplified by the rock all around them.

"What's that noise?"

Lotus shook her head. "I don't know."

Dazzling brightness. They reemerged into daylight.

"Wow!" they exclaimed in awe.

From the craggy ground ahead, two geysers of water shot twenty feet into the air, fizzing noisily. Sprays of droplets drifted like flurries of snow, refracting the sunlight into radiant hues.

Guo Jing hopped ashore, holding the boat tight against the bank while helping Lotus disembark. Then he pulled the craft out of water, propping the oars on the seat.

Together, they gazed at the wellspring of the river. They could have come up with many words of praise and admiration, but nothing came to their lips. They were content, sitting hand in hand, shoulder to shoulder, to share this moment of peace and clarity in silence.

A SNATCH of song drifted over from beyond the rainbow. "Goats on the Hill," the tune Old Yang had hummed the day before.

"The city laid waste,

Did the heroes survive?

How oft does the dragon with clouds mingle?

Pondering the ebb and flow of power,

Bitterness fills the bosom.

The Tang Empire rose as the Sui fell.

The way of the world an ever-shifting billow.

Swift, fault the earth, the sky.

Slow, fault the earth, the sky."

Lotus was moved by the gravity of the lyrics. Most songs set to this melody were about ordinary things and everyday life—and there must have been thousands of renditions over time, for it had been sung up and down China for several centuries, since the Tang dynasty ruled the land. Yet, this was the first time she had come across one that reflected on matters of state and the inevitable rise and fall of empires.

She could now see the singer heading toward them. He carried an axe in one hand and a bundle of firewood under his other arm. Madam Ying's cryptic instructions came to her mind:

To admit to seeking treatment would cause great offense—you are likely to fall at the hands of the fisher, the logger, the farmer or the scholar before reaching his court.

They had just met the fisher, and now the logger was approaching. These four men must be King Duan's followers or disciples. The thought weighed on Lotus. They had enough trouble getting past the fisher, and she could tell from the logger's warm baritone that he would be a tough opponent … As she tried to picture the trials they were about to face, he broke into song again:

"On the Bridge of Sky Crossing,

Resting on the balustrade, the eyes cast yonder,

From this land, the regal air has long melted away.

Overgrown trees,

Overflowing water,

No sign of the fortune-turning general, All to ruination at the turn of the head.

Merit, long it never lasts!

Fame, long it never lasts!"

The logger cast a brief look at Guo Jing and Lotus as he walked by, continuing on his way toward a cluster of trees that stood beside a steep rise netted by climbers, where he began chopping wood, as if the strangers were not there at all.

The man's commanding presence exuded authority and gravitas. Though he was collecting firewood in rough-spun clothes, Lotus could imagine him marshalling soldiers on the battlefield. The mere sight of this formidable figure would cow his enemies. King Duan ruled the Kingdom of Dali in Yunnan, and it would not be outrageous to assume that this woodcutter was once his general, but what made him so partial to these statesman's laments?

"Mountains huddled,

Torrents bubbled,

Tong Pass sat aloft over river and ridge.

Gazing toward the western capital,

The mind dithers.

Where the Qin and Han once passed, the heart hurts,

Palaces, watchtowers, ten thousand rooms, to earth all returned.

Thrive, the people suffer!

Fail, the people suffer!"

The last two lines brought to Lotus's mind a sentiment her father had often expressed: "Emperor, generals and chancellors, without exception, are the bane of the people. When kingdoms change hands, it is always the people who suffer."

"Well sung!" she cheered.

"How so?" The logger hung the axe from his belt and turned to the young woman.

Lotus decided to answer with lines sung to the same melody:

"Welcomed by clean breeze,

Loved by white clouds,

Dream not of silk robes and gold belts.

One thatched hut,

Wild flowers bloom,

Care not who rises or falls, who thrives or fails,

Alone on a humble path, merry am I.

Poor, aspirations great as mountains!

Rich, ambitions grand as mountains!"

She thought Old Yang's lyrics would make a perfect rejoinder. On the one hand, it paid tribute to the logger's assumed past as a military man, on the other, it praised the pastoral simplicity of his new life. The only improvement she devised was adapting the last two lines to further compliment his choices—first serving King Duan as his general and now following his sovereign to lead a hermit's life.

Lotus's voice might have been weakened by her injury, but the song had won the logger's heart. For, as the age-old saying goes: "Everything wears out, but flattery never tires."

Pleased that the young woman had understood him so well, the logger pointed at a woody vine, as thick as his arm, leading up the vertiginous slope. "Go on!" He assumed the fisher had offered them the boat to come upstream. How else would they know where to launch the craft and how to combat the current?

Guo Jing craned his neck. Mist and clouds swallowed at least half the crag. How far would he need to climb? Unable to comprehend much of the lyrics, he had not realized Lotus's song was all it had taken for them to be granted passage.

"Thank you, Uncle," he said loudly, fearing the man would change his mind. He lifted Lotus onto his back and cut a thin but strong climber to use as a rope, binding her tightly to him in case she lacked the strength to cling on for the whole ascent. Then he took hold of the vine the logger had indicated. Inhaling deeply, he heaved, pulling himself and Lotus up, little by little.

In a trice, he was already a dozen zhang from the ground. The logger's voice could still heard:

"… Where were the battles bygone?

Victory, to earth we return!

Defeat, to earth we return!"

Lotus tittered into Guo Jing's back. "Maybe we should listen to him. No. Let's not bother!"

"Huh?"

"Everyone dies one day." Then she broke into song:

"Healed, to earth we return!

Failed, to earth we return!"

"Pah! Don't listen to him!"

Lotus hummed to herself:

"Live, you will carry me!

Die, you will carry me!"

"That's more like it. In life and in death, I'll carry you!"

"Dying hasn't been so scary since you said you'd carry me on the road to the netherworld…"

They soon found themselves surrounded by a white haze so dense that not even the summer sun could penetrate it. Guo Jing could feel the drop in temperature in spite of all his physical exertions.

"Whatever happens next, this hasn't been a wasted trip," Lotus said. "We've seen so many sublime sights."

"Can you stop being so morbid?"

Chuckling, she blew on the back of his neck. Warm and ticklish.

"Hey! Behave! We'll fall!"

She laughed. "Now who's being morbid?"

Guo Jing gave her a smile and turned his mind back to the ascent, his arms working faster than ever. In no time at all, the vine was leading him forward instead of upward. They had reached the top.

8

Just as Guo Jing had hauled himself and Lotus onto firm ground, they were rocked by a loud crash as if the mountain had split open, followed by the whine of a distressed animal and the sound of a man shouting.

"An ox? On a mountain this high and steep?" Guo Jing was puzzled. Adjusting Lotus's weight on his back, he hurried over to see what had caused the commotion.

"Fisher, logger, farmer, scholar," Lotus reminded him. "Oxen plow fields."

On the slope ahead, the draft animal was howling into the sky, helpless. It thrashed on its back, contorting its body, flailing its hooves in a bid to right itself, while the boulder supporting it trembled under its weight.

Lotus chuckled as she marveled at the bizarre scene. "We were just singing 'Goats on the Hill,' now we've got an ox on the hill."

Holding up the rock—and the struggling animal—was a bare-chested man with mud up to his knees. Arms thrust high over his head, he had planted his feet at right angles for maximum purchase. He too was in a precarious situation: the ground he stood on jutted out, with a sheer drop on three sides. If he were to sacrifice the ox and let go, he would still be crushed by the boulder, since there was nowhere he could go to avoid it.

Lotus supposed the animal must have climbed up the hill and slipped, causing the rockfall, while the farmer happened to be close enough to come to the rescue. Now, both man and beast were stuck.

She had not expected to find farmland at the summit of the mountain. Looking around, she estimated that there must be at least twenty mu of paddy fields, and at the edge of one patch of cultivated land was a pile of hastily discarded tools.

He must be the farmer, Lotus deduced. What a stupendously strong man. The ox is at least three hundred jin, and then there is the weight of the boulder! As she wondered how the man would get out of his predicament, she sensed Guo Jing undoing the vine that was tying them together, and the next thing she knew she was being placed lightly on the ground.

"No! Not so hasty!"

Always willing to lend a helping hand, Guo Jing was racing to the man's aid. "Go! Help the ox!" He positioned himself under the rock, half crouching, and pushed.

The farmer felt his burden ease, but was doubtful that this stranger could support the rock and the ox on his own. He let go with one hand.

Guo Jing secured his footing, pooled his inner strength and thrust upward. He was now supporting the boulder by himself, lifting it away from the farmer's hand. The man waited to make sure the stranger was strong enough before bending low to slip out from under the rock and help the ox.

Just as he reached for the beast, he realized the man who had come to his aid was a mere boy, no more than eighteen or nineteen. There was nothing distinguished about the lad, and yet he did not look as though he had any trouble bearing the rock's great weight. The farmer grew suspicious. This boy's strength was far superior to his own, which was considered exceptional. What had brought him here? He could not have stumbled across this place by accident. He cast his eyes around and saw a girl leaning against a rock. Even from a distance, he could tell she was grievous sick.

"What brings you here, friend?" the farmer inquired.

"To seek an audience with your honorable shifu," came the reply.

"What is your business?"

Guo Jing was at a loss for an answer.

"Lead the ox away," Lotus called. Her voice lacked power. "You wouldn't want them both to fall into the abyss, would you?"

There was no whistling arrow from my martial brothers below to say that I should receive them, the farmer thought as he scrutinized the girl. He must be a skillful martial artist to have forced his way up. I'll question them while he's stuck.

"Are you here to seek treatment?"

Guo Jing nodded. There was no point in lying, since they had already admitted as much to the fisher.

"Ah, let me make inquiries." An odd look flitted across the farmer's face. He bounded up the hill, leaving the ox to its thrashing and whining.

"Wait! Help me with the rock first!"

"I shall be back soon."

Lotus knew the man wanted to wear Guo Jing out until he was too weak to fight back. She wished she had the strength to help, but all she could do was watch in frustration as the wily farmer hurried away.

"Hey, Uncle, come back!"

"Don't worry," the farmer said with a simpering smile. "He's strong enough."

Guo Jing helps you, out of the goodness of his heart, Lotus grumbled under her breath. How dare you trap him like this? You won't get away with it!

"Uncle, we can appreciate your wish to ask your shifu first," she said as loudly as she could. "I have a letter here from our shifu Count Seven Hong, if I could trouble—"

"Are you both students of Master Hong?" the farmer asked as he went over to fetch the note. It now made sense that the boy was so strong.

She nodded. "Yes, he's my martial brother. But he's all brawn and no brains." She pulled out the Hedgehog Chainmail and rummaged through the knapsack for the nonexistent message. She then looked over at Guo Jing and horror marred her features.

"Help him, please, Uncle!" she shrieked. "His hands will be ruined!"

"He'll be fine." The farmer brushed off her concerns and reached for the letter.

"You don't understand. He's learning Splitting Sky Palm. He soaked his hands in vinegar last night. He's not supposed to strain them today. It'll ruin his craft forever."

There was a grain of truth to her lie, for she had described the actual training method devised by her father. Although the farmer had not heard of this kung fu, he knew enough to realize that she had cited an advanced method of martial cultivation.

If I hurt the Divine Vagrant's disciple, he said to himself, not only will I have to face Shifu's wrath, but I won't be able to make peace with my conscience either, for the boy came to my aid. But what if the girl is trying to gull me into freeing him?

"This is Hedgehog Chainmail. No weapon can penetrate it," Lotus said, noticing his hesitation. She offered him the steel shirt. "Please, Uncle, could you kindly drape it over his shoulders? He could then support the rock without hurting his hands. I'm sure you wouldn't want to be the cause of bad blood between our Masters, right?"

The farmer was of two minds whether he should trust her as he reached for the treasure from Peach Blossom Island he had heard so much about.

"Shifu always entreats us to act in good faith," Lotus added, sensing his misgivings. "You can test its strength."

The farmer knew his Master thought highly of the Divine Vagrant's integrity. He had been studying the girl, a picture of earnest innocence, and was increasingly inclined to believe her. Still, he could not afford to be careless when his teacher's safety depended on his decision. He drew the short saber hanging from his belt and brought it down on the Hedgehog Chainmail. Indeed, as she had promised, it withstood his blade.

"I'll do as you say." The farmer went up to Guo Jing and laid the shirt on the young man's shoulders. Then he pressed his hands against the boulder. "Let your shoulders take the weight."

Lotus was paying close attention to the farmer's every move. Once she was certain he had taken the rock's full weight, she shouted, "Dragon Soars in the Sky!"

Guo Jing's body reacted automatically. He shot out from under the rock and propelled himself away from it, landing next to Lotus with the Hedgehog Chainmail draped snugly over his shoulders.

A stream of curses flowed from the farmer. His arms held high, he was once more stuck under the rock.

"Don't worry, you're strong enough," Lotus said, mocking him. "Let's go."

"You've tarnished the Divine Vagrant's reputation!"

"I doubt it. Can Shifu fault me for obeying my father? Papa says a little lie hurts no one."

"Who's your father?"

"Didn't I show you the Hedgehog Chainmail?"

"You're the Old Heretic's spawn!"

Giggling, Lotus took Guo Jing's hand and left the spluttering farmer behind.