1
"Is there anything else—?"
"No, nothing," Lotus whispered, then her voice grew strong with certainty. "If I ask for anything more, I know the heavens will not grant it."
She flicked her sleeves skyward and began to dance. The golden band over her hair gleamed in the sun. Her dress fluttered in a breeze of her own making. She twirled with more urgency, unfurling her sleeves at the trees around her, sending a flurry of petals into the air. Red, white, yellow, purple, they flittered around her like so many butterflies. She sprang up, leaping from tree to tree, capering in the footwork and postures of Wayfaring Fist and Cascading Peach Blossom Palm. She was euphoric.
This scene reminded Guo Jing of a story his mother used to tell him when he was small, about a celestial mountain in the Eastern Sea.
Peach Blossom Island is more wonderful than that fabled place, he said to himself. And Lotus more beautiful than any heavenly creature.
"Yi?" Lotus let out a quiet note of apprehension and put an end to her frenzied dance. She jumped down, beckoned Guo Jing to follow her and sprinted into the woods.
Guo Jing made sure he was never more than a step behind. The last thing he wanted was to get lost on this island again.
Lotus zigzagged through clumps of vegetation at top speed, then came to a halt without any warning.
"What is that?" She was pointing at a sandy brown lump ahead, her tone ominous.
Guo Jing ventured closer.
A horse.
One he knew very well. Wind Chaser, his third shifu Ryder Han's beloved companion. She had traveled to Mongolia with her master almost twenty years ago, and Guo Jing had known her since he was a little boy.
He reached out to touch her belly. The warmth of life had long deserted her. Finding his old friend's lifeless body in this unlikely location hit Guo Jing hard.
She might be in her twilight years, but the last time he had seen her she had been as robust and as fleet of foot as ever. How come she lay dead, here, of all places? Third Shifu must be devastated.
Then it occurred to Guo Jing that she had not collapsed sideways, as he would expect from a horse that had died from natural causes. Her great form was crumpled over her buckled legs. He had seen this pose once before … Khojin's steed, when it was struck dead by Apothecary Huang.
Gathering his inner energy, he cradled the mare's neck and heaved, so he could reach under to feel her forelegs. The bones were shattered. Gently, he set her down and felt her back and loin. Her vertebrae, crushed. He examined her golden coat, turning her over, as a sickening dread took hold of his stomach. He could not find a single scratch on her body.
Who killed Wind Chaser? Where is Third Shifu? The questions haunted Guo Jing as he sat heavily on the ground. Then he remembered where they were.
Only one person on this island had the ability to strike dead a horse this way. And this person was known to be cruel and cold-hearted enough to do such a thing to a harmless creature.
Apothecary Huang.
LOTUS HAD been observing Guo Jing, keeping her thoughts to herself.
"Don't jump to conclusions," she said, after giving him a moment to work through his thoughts. "We'll search the area carefully and find out what actually happened."
With those muted words, she flicked away stray branches and leaves to inspect the marks left on the trail, moving forward slowly.
When Guo Jing realized Lotus had found footprints in the sodden earth, he pushed past her to follow them. He blundered onward without a care, as if he had forgotten that he could end up hopelessly enmeshed in this labyrinth of an island.
The footprints came and went, just like the paths Guo Jing had been speeding along. Each time, it was Lotus who rediscovered the trail by backtracking, probing between rocks and through the undergrowth. Sometimes, no impressions were left on the ground, but she would spy faint lines scored by weapons on tree trunks, or other signs of human activity among the vegetation.
Several li later, they came upon a sea of flowering shrubs, with a mound bulging from its center.
This time, it was Lotus who darted ahead.
Guo Jing had stumbled across this site on his first visit. Lotus's mother was interred among the blossoms. He recalled bowing at her perfectly tended memorial, but the scene before his eyes now diverged from the image in his memory.
Here lies Madam Feng,
Mistress of Peach Blossom Island
The same characters were now lying sideways. The headstone had been knocked to the ground.
He lifted it the right way round.
Lotus, meanwhile, was staring at the exposed tomb entrance. She knew in her gut that something monstrous had happened. She battled the urge to rush inside, and forced herself to take in the surroundings first.
The lawn to the left of the entrance was badly trampled. The stone portal bore marks from a clash of weapons.
She stepped inside the tomb passage and listened. Deathly silence. Unable to make out any sound from within, she began to venture forward.
Guo Jing hurried after her, feeling nervous about the hidden threats they might find lurking underground.
Lotus proceeded with caution, her mind reeling at the cracks and chips on the masonry lining the walls. Testament to the fierce tussle that had taken place in the narrow passage.
Several zhang into the tunnel, a cudgel lay in her way. She picked it up and held it to the last of the light reaching in through the unguarded entry.
One half of a steelyard. Gilden Quan's weapon. The balance beam, wrought from refined iron, was as thick as a child's arm. It had been snapped at the midpoint.
Lotus caught Guo Jing's eye and saw what was on his mind. A possibility she dared not voice.
Only a handful of martial Masters in this world had the strength to snap the sturdy instrument in two with their bare bands. Considering where they were now, this list narrowed down to one candidate.
Her own father.
Guo Jing seized the broken weapon from Lotus's shaking hands and stuffed it into his belt. He then crouched low and felt his way along the progressively gloomy passageway. His heart was a string of buckets dancing up and down the shaft of a well, as he searched for the rest of the weapon, at the same time desperately hoping that he would find nothing. The sounds of his robes dragging on the paving stones masked neither the sniffles from his nose nor the whines from his throat.
He crawled. He groped. He stopped. He had come into contact with something hard and round. The counterweight. The flying bludgeon his sixth shifu used to devastating effect in combat.
He scooped it up and placed it in his pocket. It was too dark to see, so he let his sense of touch guide him. His fingertips brushed against something less hard than iron or stone, but as cold as both. The undulating surface was almost waxy …
A face?
He jerked back—pang!—and smacked his head into the marble-lined vault of the passageway. He was too busy fumbling in his shirt for his tinderbox to feel any pain. As the small flame burst into life, he felt the last vestige of air being punched out of his lungs. Inside, his head was being pounded into pulp. Outside, the corridor spun before his eyes.
Blackness was all that remained.
Guo Jing had fainted, but the match was still burning in his hand. Lotus was now confronted with the sight that had knocked him out cold.
Gilden Quan's glassy eyes stared into hers. The missing half of his weapon protruded from his chest.
The truth, right there, in her path. A reality she had no choice but to face head-on. She tried to keep calm, mustering what courage she could find within and taking a step closer to Guo Jing. She pulled the tinder from his hand and held it under his nose.
She watched the coil of smoke worm its way into his nostrils, making him sneeze. She watched his heavy eyelids part with reluctance, his unfocused eyes taking in her face before flitting away to anywhere else but her. She watched him clamber to his feet and step mechanically around his sixth shifu's remains, heading further into the sepulcher.
She staggered on behind him.
Her mother's burial chamber.
Chaos.
A chunk of stone was missing from the offering table. Hacked away in battle.
In the corner to their left, someone lay on his side, his back toward them. He wore a headscarf. He was in the shadows, but it was clear who he was. Zhu Cong the Intelligent, the second of the Freaks.
Guo Jing crossed the room and reached out to his Master, helping him onto his back. His body was as cold and lifeless as the stone chamber it lay in. His shoes had slipped off his feet. Yet, a phantom smile lingered on his face, a harrowing expression under the flickering flame.
"Second Shifu, I'm here," Guo Jing said as he cradled his teacher, shifting him into a sitting position. A series of soft clinks. Gems and precious trinkets were tumbling from inside the dead man's robes.
Lotus picked up a piece of jewelry that had rolled close to her and let it slip between her fingers after a quick glance.
Sighing, she said, "That's Mama's—"
"You—you think my shifu came here to steal? How—how dare you!"
She felt Guo Jing's glare and turned to him. She would not be cowed. Not by that hate-filled look. Not by the menace in his growl. She held his gaze, looking deep into his wild, bloodshot eyes.
"My second shifu is a hero. A man of virtue! He'd never steal from your father. A-a-above all else, he'd never steal from your mother's tomb!"
Despite this outburst, Guo Jing could see that there was no hint of an accusation in the eyes looking back at him. Just woe, he said to himself, and his rage fizzled out. He took in the jewels on the floor. These glittering objects had spilled from his mentor's clothes. That was something he could not deny.
Second Shifu was known in the jianghu as Quick Hands for his superb sleight of hand. He could empty any pocket and take any object from a person without being detected, and, over the years, even the most sensitive and guarded of martial Masters had been caught out.
Could he really have come here to steal? Guo Jing began to doubt himself.
No! Never! A voice shrieked inside. Second Shifu was an honorable man. He had never craved riches and wealth. He had only used his skill against wrongdoers. Never for personal gain. He could never do something so despicable. There has to be another reason. It has to be so.
Torn between the facts before his eyes and the memory of the man he loved and revered, Guo Jing felt a throbbing pressure mounting in his skull. It was playing tricks with his vision, making the room dark one moment and blinding bright the next. He screwed his fists into tight balls, his joints popping and cracking with tension.
Lotus could see that he, like her, was wrestling with this grim new chapter in their existence.
"If you want to take my life, do it now." Her voice was almost inaudible. "The other day, when I saw the look on your first shifu's face, I knew we could never find happiness together. Mama is over there. Please, lay my body next to hers, then leave this island as fast as you can. Don't let Papa find you here."
Guo Jing did not seem to have heard a word. He started to pace back and forth, sucking in big mouthfuls of air and emptying his lungs noisily.
Lotus left him to it and went to seek solace from her mother. She parted the drapes behind the offering table and made for the sarcophagus, only to find—ah!—yet another grisly tableau displayed before her.
Ryder Han was slouched over the far end of the casket, facedown. Five bloody holes in the crown of his head, dug by human fingers, yawning at her.
Slumped close to him was his cousin Jade Han. She too was supported by the coffin. It looked as though she knew she stood no chance and could not bear the thought of being mutilated by the person who had caused this carnage, instead taking the matter into her own hands, slitting her throat with her sword and clinging to her trusty blade, even in death.
But, before she had expired, she had dipped her fingertips in blood and made a mark on the top of the casket.
On the slab of lustrous white jade that adorned the precious container, carved from a golden-hue nanmu laurel tree.
This was how Lotus found the youngest Freak. Her fingers splayed in the midst of writing a character. Death had claimed her before she could complete her task.
A little cross on the luminous nephrite.
Whether Jade Han had used her own vital fluid or her cousin's as ink, there was no way to tell, yet, in the five bloody streaks dragged across the white surface by her fingers, Lotus could see the life sapping from the woman as she was pulled down by the weight of her own body. It was a gruesome sight, but she could not tear her eyes away until she was shoved aside.
"Seventh Shifu, I know what you're trying to write," Guo Jing croaked. "'Apothecary Huang'! I know. I will bring you revenge."
He stole over to Ryder Han's body, speaking softly as he settled the diminutive man on the floor. "I saw Cyclone Mei die with my own eyes, Third Shifu. Her Master is the one person left on this earth who could have done this to you. I will give you revenge."
He turned his attention back to the youngest Freak, arranging her body into a more dignified and restful position. He then marched past Lotus and across the burial chamber, disappearing up the passageway.
Lotus was rooted to the spot, her heart frozen stiff. Twice had he pushed past her … She was invisible to him.
What little light Guo Jing's tinderbox offered had departed with him, leaving her in the murk of the tomb. An unspeakable fear gripped her, even though she had spent many hours on her own down there and knew every inch of the place.
Not anymore. Not when there were four extra bodies.
The thought sent her scrambling up the tunnel, almost tripping over in her desperation to get out. When she was back in the warmth of daylight, she realized what must have made her stumble. The corpse of Gilden Quan.
2
After taking a moment to pull herself together, Lotus reached automatically for the mechanism to shut the entrance to the tomb. She had always done so after visiting her mother, and so had her father …
Why hadn't Papa closed it this time? The question dispelled some of the fog that had been blurring her mind since she had first set eyes on the dead horse. Was he in a great hurry? But he'd never leave Mama unguarded and exposed to the elements … Wait, there were three dead men inside. Papa would never, ever let them keep Mama company—under no circumstances would he allow that. Could … could he have fallen prey to …
She shifted the gravestone to cover the tomb entrance, tapped each side of the portal thrice to seal it and ran to investigate their living quarters.
Although Guo Jing had come above ground earlier, he was ensnared by the island's meandering paths within a few dozen paces. It was sheer luck that Lotus was heading in the same direction. He waited for her to overtake him and tailed her closely, but neither chose to acknowledge the other's presence. After burrowing through a bamboo grove and skirting a lotus pond, they arrived at a rustic complex built from unstripped pine—Apothecary Huang's chambers.
"Papa! Papa!" Lotus ran inside.
Here too, violence had left its mark. Cracked columns standing askew. Tables and chairs upended. Books and writing instruments scattered on the floor. Hanging scrolls ripped and torn.
Papa? Where are you? She gripped the upturned desk for support, to cling on to what little control she had left. No, this can't be—she tried to convince herself—this isn't right …
She rushed to the servants' lodgings. Not a soul in sight. The stove was cold. Dirty bowls cluttered the worktop. Some contained congealed leftovers, as though they had been abandoned mid-meal. If anybody had survived the attack, they were long gone.
Guo Jing and Lotus were the only people left alive on the island.
She trudged back to the main house and found Guo Jing standing in the middle of the study, exactly where she had left him. His unseeing eyes were fixed on an imaginary spot; his face was wooden, blank.
"Cry, Guo Jing. Go on, cry."
She could imagine the depth of his grief, for the bond he shared with the Freaks was as profound as that between any parent and child. She was also aware that he needed to find a release for the emotional pressures mounting inside him, since abrupt swings of extreme feelings could cause serious internal injuries to one who had attained an advanced level of neigong.
But, as soon as Lotus uttered his name, she felt herself overwhelmed by all that she had seen and felt. Her knees gave way and her voice faltered. When she finally got a grip of herself, the thought came to her that, if she could find some clues to explain what had happened, perhaps she could jolt him out of his catatonic state … She pushed herself to her feet and started rummaging through the desk drawers. In the top right compartment, she found a note written in a hand she did not know, but, just as she was unfolding the paper, it was snatched away from her. Guo Jing had recognized the calligraphy as his second shifu's:
The lowly wanderers of the South—Ke Zhen'e, Zhu Cong, Ryder Han, Woodcutter Nan, Gilden Quan and Jade Han—bow to Master Huang, Lord of Peach Blossom Island.
The letter flapped in his shaking hands as his eyes ran over it.
We have come across the hearsay that the Six Masters of the Quanzhen Sect have been provoked by slanderous tongues and laid blame upon Peach Blossom Island. We know in our hearts that they are mistaken in this matter, but the voice of base vassals such as we is inconsequential, we could not hope to win the serious hearing of both parties and bring peace.
The Master is one of the greatest heroes of our age, in the same league as the Double Sun Immortal Wang Chongyang. For a surety, it would not befit your honor to yield to or to grapple with those who are your junior.
The praises of a thousand ages were heaped upon Chancellor Lin Xiangru, for he halted and turned back his palanquin to give way to General Lian Po, and thus avoided confronting might with might.
Among great heroes thence and now, is there one who does not boast a bosom as wide as the sea? To breed quarrels as trifling as that of chickens pecking at worms is beneath the Master's repute and, in troth, is unworthy of the Master's standing.
For one day shall the disciples of Quanzhen come to the steps of Peach Blossom Island carrying canes on their backs, like General Lian Po when he at last saw the error of his haughty spirit, and the Master's great virtue would be known and admired by every man of honor under the heavens. A noble conclusion that would be.
The note brought Guo Jing's mind back to the battle between Apothecary Huang and the Seven Immortals of the Quanzhen Sect in the dilapidated inn at Ox Village, when Viper Ouyang dealt Eternal Truth Tan Chuduan a secret death blow and laid the blame on the Heretic. In his recollection, the Lord of Peach Blossom Island was too proud to clear up the misunderstanding and seemed to revel in the Quanzhen Masters' hatred for him.
Guo Jing attempted to make sense of what he had witnessed so far. My shifus must have discovered that the Quanzhen Sect were going to Peach Blossom Island to seek revenge, and sent this letter to dissuade Apothecary Huang from engaging them in a direct confrontation, so there would be a chance for both sides to see the truth one day. They did this out of the goodness of their hearts to prevent bloodshed, and yet that heartless man thanked them with murder!
But why come to Peach Blossom Island when they had already sent this letter? They must have heard that the Quanzhen Sect were already on their way, and feared that their note was not persuasive enough. They must have wanted to talk both sides down, to stand between them and stop them from fighting …
Oh Heretic, you beast! Guo Jing cursed. I know how it went! You thought my shifus came to help the Quanzhen monks and you unleashed your evil on them, not bothering to confirm whose side they were on.
Timidly, Lotus peeled the letter out from between Guo Jing's fingers. He did not seem to register her action at all. She tried to rein in her galloping thoughts so she could take in the content with a clear head.
They had come with good intentions, but the wretched Quick Hands was too set in his thieving ways, she concluded as she put the note back into the drawer. He could not resist the temptations of Mama's treasures and did the unspeakable, so Papa …
SHE HAD been standing in silence for some time when she heard Guo Jing muttering under his breath: "I won't kill her. I won't kill her…"
"You should cry."
"I won't cry. I won't cry…" he repeated in a whisper, until the only sound was the murmuring waves.
The song of the sea had been a constant companion in Lotus's life, and memories of her first fifteen years on the island swelled like a rising tide. They splattered against the fringes of her mind, like the billow's sprays, vanishing as swiftly as they had appeared.
"I should bury my shifus. Shouldn't I? Is that what I should do?" Guo Jing's voice brought her back to the present.
"Yes, you should," she answered, though she knew he was not speaking to her. She headed back to her mother's grave with an impassive Guo Jing trailing at her heels.
LOTUS WAS reaching for the mechanism to open the mausoleum when a mighty force pressed into her. She leaped to the side to find an airborne Guo Jing sweeping his foot into the headstone.
Carved from the hardest granite, the stone slab stood in defiance. The full force of Guo Jing's martial prowess only succeeded in knocking it a fraction askew, while bright red blood was fast staining his sock, his shoe and the hem of his trousers. Undeterred, he pummeled his fists against the rock, before pulling out Gilden Quan's fractured steelyard to aid his attack on the stoic memorial. Shards of stone flew in a shower of sparks, yet the only thing that succumbed to his strength was what remained of his sixth shifu's weapon. He flung the battered iron beam away and thrust with both palms, drawing on his neigong without holding anything in reserve. The recalcitrant rock finally snapped in half, revealing a metal rod running through its core. He grabbed it, twisting and wresting, and the tomb tunnel revealed itself with an agonized creak.
Guo Jing stood motionless, staring into the place of death.
"Only he knows how to open the tomb. Only he could have tricked my teachers inside. It has to be him! It can only be him! It's him!" With a wild howl to the skies, Guo Jing sprinted down the dark passage.
Lotus stared at her mother's headstone, which had stood over the tomb's entrance just moments ago. Now it lay shattered and scarred, the once pristine surface marred by bloody handprints. The animus that had fueled its destruction lingered in its debris.
If he tries to defile Mama's casket, it will be over my dead body! She braced herself to go underground again.
Just then, Guo Jing emerged with Gilden Quan's remains. He set his mentor down with reverence and went inside again, bringing up the bodies of Zhu Cong, Ryder Han and Jade Han, one by one, with solemn ceremony.
Lotus let him perform his labors uninterrupted. She could sense that his smallest movements conveyed his wholehearted devotion to his Masters.
He loves them far more than he will ever love me, she realized, as a biting chill spread from her core to her extremities. The urge to find her father grew stronger still, and yet somehow she was unable to tear herself away. She shadowed him as he carried his shifus one by one into the woods, some hundred paces from her mother's tomb.
Guo Jing thrust Jade Han's sword into the ground to dig a burial pit, plunging the sharpened steel with increasing force and velocity, until—pak!—it could not withstand his crazed fury any longer, breaking off at the hilt.
A burst of anguish surged up from Guo Jing's chest. He opened his mouth in a voiceless cry and out shot fresh blood. Not once, but twice. He paid no attention. He simply cast what was left of the sword aside and squatted on his heels, tearing up soil with his bare hands, flinging it away in a manic frenzy.
Lotus fetched two spades from the gardener's hut and threw one to him. Guo Jing caught it without a word or a look of acknowledgment. Yet, the moment she planted hers in the ground, it was ripped out of her hands and tossed away in two pieces.
Lotus backed away from him. Her legs fell out from under her. She had no more tears to shed.
Guo Jing attacked the earth with every fiber of his being, and, in no time at all, he had two graves ready. He cradled Jade Han's body and laid it in the smaller pit before kowtowing to his seventh shifu. He stared at her for a long while, then, with utmost tenderness, he covered her with earth.
He lifted Zhu Cong into his arms, but paused when he noticed the bulge in his mentor's shirt. Jewels from the tomb.
How can I let that man's filthy gems keep Second Shifu company for eternity? The idea turned Guo Jing's stomach. Balancing the body against his own with one arm, he removed the trinkets from his teacher's pockets and tossed them away without a second glance. Once his Master's corpse was free from their contamination, he set the Second Freak down and noticed that there was still something in his left hand. Guo Jing wrested the fingers open and found a jade shoe, just over an inch in length. He hurled it on the ground with a fie! He had nothing but revulsion for these pointless, pretty things.
Although Lotus could not see very well from where she was sitting several steps away, she was certain that it did not belong to her mother. Where had Zhu Cong found this exquisite plaything? she wondered. Even from a distance, she could discern the masterful craftsmanship and the lifelike details of this dainty miniature maiden's shoe, captured in the highest quality green jade.
Guo Jing stared vacantly into the pit he had prepared for his mentors, and, with reverent care, he laid Zhu Cong, Ryder Han and Gilden Quan to rest. He scooped up a handful of earth but he could not bear the thought of scattering it.
"Second Shifu, Third Shifu, Sixth Shifu!" he cried in the same respectful, loving tone he had always used to address his Masters, taking in their faces one last time. Then the glinting jewels caught his eye again. He dropped the spade, swept up the offending items and took off for the tomb.
Lotus rushed after him, fearful that he might further deface her mother's memorial, and threw herself, arms wide, in front of the undefended entrance.
"What are you doing?"
He pushed her aside and hurled the gems into the dark tunnel. Most of them clinked and tinkled their way down toward the burial chamber, but the jade shoe landed by Lotus's feet. She picked it up and saw the character zhao—beckon or recruit—carved on the heel, and the character bi, which means compare or compete, on the insole.
"This does not belong to my mother," she said, holding it up.
Guo Jing stared past her, then turned away without a word. He ran back to his teachers and covered their remains with earth.
3
Dusk was approaching. Almost half a day had passed since the traumatic discovery and Guo Jing had yet to shed a tear or show any emotion but rage. Lotus, who had grown ever more concerned about his internal state, thought perhaps he would be able to vent his pent-up feelings in private. She left him at the burial site and went back to the main house to look for some food. She returned an hour later with a slapdash meal of dried fish and cured ham, and found Guo Jing standing in exactly the same place and in the same posture as when she had left him, a statue in the encroaching gloom.
"Guo Jing," she said, her voice quiet and timid. He did not hear her.
"Please, you haven't had any food all day."
"I'd rather starve than eat anything from this island."
Lotus was relieved to have elicited a response, but she also knew his character well—he would be as good as his word. She let the food box slide from her arm and sat down.
One standing on his feet, one sitting on the ground, both stationary. The only movement was the moon's, as it crept over the waves and climbed through the sky, peering down from above.
Their hearts, like the meal Lotus had prepared, had gone cold.
A blood-curdling cry blew in with the breeze, breaking the monotonous lapping of the sea.
Lotus could hear pain and anguish in the voice, but she could not tell if it belonged to man or beast. It sounded like a howling wolf, a growling tiger and a groaning man, all at once.
When the wind died down, the wailing died with it.
She parted her lips to call Guo Jing, but thought better of it. Whatever it is, it doesn't bode well. I shouldn't add to his burden.
All her life, she had roamed the island alone at night. She had known every leaf on every tree and every blade of grass, and yet tonight she could barely master her nerves as she stepped into the darkness, heading in the general direction of that fearful sound.
A dozen paces later, a gush whipped past her. Guo Jing streaked by in a straight line, then began kicking and striking at trees and shrubs that stood in his path.
Watching him tear blindly ahead, Lotus sighed. Not only had he lost his way, he had probably lost his mind too.
"Follow me," she said weakly.
Guo Jing trailed behind her, crying, "Fourth Shifu! Fourth Shifu!"
Woodcutter Nan, the fourth of the Freaks.
The moon provided enough light for Lotus to make out the harrowing marks along their meandering route. Branches crudely hacked and snapped. From time to time, they found the flower bed or the strip of lawn flanking the track trampled twice over. Whoever had passed this way before them had strayed from the trail, only to double back when they realized their mistake. Then, she saw, a hundred feet or so before them, a stake planted in their path.
Guo Jing recognized it immediately. Woodcutter Nan's weapon—an iron shoulder pole. He barreled ahead and plucked it from the earth.
When Lotus had caught up with him, she pointed to the ground. "Three sets of footprints."
"Apothecary Huang!" he rasped. "I'll kill you for what you've done to my shifus!"
"You'll have to kill me first."
Ignoring her, Guo Jing knelt down to study the impressions. One set were heavy and haphazard, drifting off the path and wandering back. They must be Woodcutter Nan's. The footprints of the other two, who were traveling in tandem, were swift and sure. They knew where they were going.
Only Apothecary Huang could navigate this island.
Only Apothecary Huang had the lightness qinggong to move this fast.
"Fourth Shifu's prints have dried, but the others are fresh," Lotus noted. "He must have gone down this path quite some time before they did."
"My shifu has taken refuge in this quiet part of the island, but your father won't let him be. He's tracked him down and he's going to kill him. Go on, lead the way!" he hissed, before projecting his voice: "Shifu, Guo Jing's coming!"
Lotus knew that, when they reached Woodcutter Nan's hiding place, he would ask for her head, but what could she do—nay—what did she care? She was aware that, with each step she took, she was one step closer to meeting her end. She had made peace with that. But what if she found Papa there, as Guo Jing had predicted? What would she do then?
Then they saw him. A man writhing and thrashing around under a peach tree.
Guo Jing rushed forward and threw his arms around the man, overjoyed that his Master was alive. Woodcutter Nan looked up, a manic grin plastered on his face. An eerie noise—hoorrrrr-hoooorrrrrr—rasped from his throat.
"Fourth Shifu! Fourth Shifu!" Guo Jing burst into tears.
Nan answered with a palm strike and the same painful growl.
Out of instinct, Guo Jing ducked, only to find a fist hurtling his way.
After a split second's reflection, Guo Jing decided the blow was a teacher's chastisement for his pupil, and he welcomed it. He held still and allowed the punch to connect. Thump! His feet left the ground and he flipped head over heels in a backward roll.
Guo Jing thought he was familiar with his mentor's strength, having sparred with him countless times since childhood, but the raw power in this blow took him by surprise.
Just when he had steadied himself, a second strike came, more potent than the first. No, he would not shy from it. A burst of stars and sparks clouded his vision, and he almost blacked out.
Woodcutter Nan picked up a large chunk of rock and lifted it high above Guo Jing's head.
Lotus could tell that Guo Jing would not evade his shifu's wrath, nor raise a hand against him. He was waiting for the rock to fall, for his skull to be smashed in, his brains splattered on the mud.
She could not stand by and let that happen. She lunged, striking Woodcutter Nan on the arm. He teetered, then crashed to the ground, yowling, flailing, unable to get up again.
"Why did you push my shifu?"
Lotus may have been heavy-handed in her desperation to save Guo Jing, but she was not prepared for the Fourth Freak to be so unsteady on his feet. She extended her hand to pull the man up and, as she bent low, she saw his face clearly for the first time.
Dyed white by the cold moonlight, his smile was forced and unnatural.
She gasped in fright and recoiled at the spine-chilling sight, unwilling to touch him.
The man threw a jab, hitting her square on the left shoulder.
A dull pain spread through Lotus's chest, throwing her back by a couple of steps. Woodcutter Nan howled as his fist was torn by the Hedgehog Chainmail.
"Fourth Shifu!" Guo Jing pleaded, while Lotus and the Freak shrieked.
For the first time, a flicker of recognition flashed in Nan's eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came, despite the visible exertion that was making his facial muscles twitch and twist as sorrow and frustration mounted in his eyes.
"Take your time, Master. Who did this to you?"
Woodcutter Nan threw his head back, desperate to speak, but this time he could not even move his lips.
"Shifu!" Guo Jing screamed.
"He wants to write."
Following Lotus's gaze, Guo Jing saw that his mentor was dragging a trembling finger through the earth, making a cluster of disjointed slashes and strokes.
Lotus's heart thumped, fearful of the revelation to come, then something occurred to her. Wait, he's on Peach Blossom Island. Any idiot would assume it was Papa who did this. So why is he wrestling so hard with death for one extra moment to set down the name of his killer? Could it … could it be someone else?
Her eyes followed the jerking finger. She could tell the little strength he had left was seeping away fast.
Write it down quickly, please! she prayed.
The Fourth Freak pulled his finger across, then down, before looping it upward. Then a tremor ran through his hand and it moved no more.
Guo Jing had been holding his teacher's body while he tried to write. He felt, through his chest, the final spasm as Woodcutter Nan's life was snatched away. Now all that remained was an inanimate shell in his arms.
"Shifu, I know what you're trying to write." Guo Jing squinted at the incomprehensible mark. "The character dong, for east. Eastern Heretic. Apothecary Huang. This is his island and there's no one else as evil and cutthroat as he."
He cast himself on Woodcutter Nan's body, bawling his eyes out and beating his chest.
A DAZZLING light prised open Guo Jing's eyes. It took him a little while to register that it was now morning and the sun had risen fully. He had a vague memory of crying over Woodcutter Nan's body, but he did not know that he had passed out in exhaustion over the corpse. He looked around. No Lotus. Just an empty vessel in the form of his teacher and a pair of vacant eyes gazing into nothingness.
Eyes staring in death.
The old saying brought on another downpour of tears. He could now understand what it meant to depart unwillingly and with grievances, unable to find peace as one drew one's final breath. He reached out with unsteady hands and placed his fingers on his fourth shifu's eyelids, renewing his vow of vengeance, before guiding them shut.
The physical signs of Nan's last struggle—particularly that sinister smile—were seared on Guo Jing's mind. What kind of injury had caused them? He unknotted the ties that held his Master's robes together and examined his body. Other than the little bloodstained pricks on his knuckles from punching the Hedgehog Chainmail, he could not find a single scratch on his skin and there was no sign that he had been struck by inner neigong power.
It must be the Divine Flick! Guo Jing told himself. I've seen enough of that kung fu to know that it can kill without drawing blood. I'll hunt you down and kill you, Heretic! For my shifus!
He scooped up the Fourth Freak and tried to retrace his steps back to where he had buried his other teachers. But, within a few dozen paces, he could no longer pick out the footprints on the indistinct path. Deflated, he gave up, burying Nan under the peach tree where he had found him.
Guo Jing then hurried down the first track he stumbled upon, determined to make his own way to the shore to find passage back to the mainland, but, before long, he found himself turned around and around, robbed of his sense of direction.
He sat down to rest and collect himself. It had been a whole day since his last meal and his stomach was complaining loudly.
I'll ignore the paths and head east, following the sun, he decided. That way, I'll get to the sea at some point.
Yet, he was soon faced with a dense forest, one that he could not force his way through, for barbed vines were choking every branch of every tree.
Onward! No turning back! he told himself, climbing up the nearest tree. As he leaped forth to take the first step of this treetop march, he heard fabric ripping and felt a burning pain in his calf.
The thorns had shredded the legs of his trousers. Angry red lines appeared on the exposed skin.
Undeterred, he braced himself and jumped. Once, twice, but he could not make a third spring. The creepers had coiled around his ankles. He pulled out the golden dagger and hacked them away. He looked ahead to map out a route, but the jungle of spikes spread as far as the eye could see, layer upon layer, into the horizon.
"I'll cut my legs off to leave this damned island!" he yelled at the forest as he prepared to vault to the next tree.
"Come down. I'll take you to the shore."
He could see Lotus looking up at him through the canopy, by a row of trees to his left, and he jumped down to join her. He had made up his mind not to speak to her again, but, when he saw her bloodless pallor, he wanted to know if there had been a set back in her recovery. His lip quivered—images from the day before flashed by—and he bit his tongue and twisted his head to look the other way.
Lotus, of course, could read his conflicted emotions from his features. She waited, hoping that he would turn to meet her eyes, but he kept his face averted.
"Let's go," she breathed out with a heavy heart.
The dreadful discovery had struck Lotus as hard as it had Guo Jing, especially since she was yet to wholly regain her strength after the internal injury caused by Qiu Qianren's Iron Palm kung fu. She had not managed to snatch a moment's rest all night, and her insides were still twisting in knots as she tried to come to terms with that fact that she could not blame anyone for what had happened. Not Guo Jing. Not Papa. Not even the Six Freaks of the South. But why did the Lord of the Heavens insist on punishing her so? Why her, of all people? She had never done anything particularly bad or wrong. Why? Was He jealous? Could He be resentful of the happiness she had found?
With each step she took, she knew the rift between her and Guo Jing was getting wider. To the point where it could never be bridged. When they arrived at the shore, they would part for the last time. Never would she see him again in this life.
With each step she took, she felt a part of her heart crumble away.
Still, she forced herself to walk on.
Out through the trees and onto the beach.
The sea. She had nothing left inside to hold herself together. She swayed, planting the Dog Beater for support, but her arm was as drained and spent as the rest of her body.
Guo Jing reached forward to steady her, but, just as his fingertips grazed her shoulder, he recalled whose daughter she was, and swung his other arm.
Thud! A punch to the helping hand. Zhou Botong's Competing Hands kung fu.
While his heart, his mind and his two palms struggled between love and hatred, Lotus fell facedown in the sand.
A rush of remorse and anguish filled Guo Jing's bosom, even though it might have been forged from iron and stone right now. He caved in at the sight of her so helpless, and scooped her up. He looked around to find somewhere soft to set her down, and saw a green cloth flapping in the wind amid an outcrop of rocks to the northeast of where he was standing.
Lotus opened her eyes to find herself in Guo Jing's arms as he peered at something in the distance. She turned to see what had captured his interest.
"Papa!"
Upon hearing her cry, Guo Jing started to run, still carrying her. As they drew near, they realized the green robe was caught between two rocks, and next to it lay a mask made from human skin.
Apothecary Huang's disguise.
Guo Jing lowered Lotus onto the rock with a gentleness he had not shown since this wretched affair had come to light, and held on to her hand while she reached for the robe.
A bloody palm print marred the fabric.
Nine Yin Skeleton Claw! Guo Jing saw Ryder Han's gory end in his mind's eye again. That fiend was wearing this robe when he butchered Third Shifu!
A rush of hot blood flooded his chest. He flung Lotus's hand away, tore the robe from her grasp and ripped it in two. That was when he noticed a strip of fabric missing from the garment's hem. About the same shape and size as the piece that had been tied around the condor's foot.
Before he could give much thought to that, his eyes were once more drawn to the gruesome handprint.
So crisp was the impression that even the lines on the skin were preserved. It was reaching out of the cloth, slapping him in the face.
Rage boiled and bubbled within him.
He tossed away the vile garment, bunched up his own robe over his abdomen and jumped into the sea.
A boat was moored nearby. He waded toward it and vaulted aboard. The crew were long gone, but it did not matter. He could work out what to do. With the golden dagger gifted to him by Genghis Khan, he cut the dock lines and weighed anchor.
He did not look back.
Lotus watched the sail billow as the wind carried Guo Jing westward. She clung to the hope that he would turn back and take her with him, but, as the vessel pulled away, resolutely and without hesitation, her heart succumbed, bit by bit, to a biting frost until it was frozen into one solid block of ice.
She watched the craft disappear into the horizon, where the sea blended into the sky. Then it struck her. She, abandoned here, on her own. Guo Jing, gone. Papa might not come back. This, her present, her future. Never-ending days on this island, alone, forsaken …
Am I to stand here by the sea for eternity? she asked herself, as a small voice inside implored, Don't, Lotus, don't.
4
In no time at all, Guo Jing was a dozen li west of Peach Blossom Island. Suddenly, condors' caws cut through his black mood and brought him back to the here and now. They were winging his way and soon they were perched on the yard.
We've left Lotus behind, without a living soul to keep her company. The thought of her standing alone on the shore compelled him to turn the boat around.
As he rode the waves, making slower progress with the wind no longer in his favor, his mind drifted back to the scene outside the cave, when they were reunited with Zhou Botong, Count Seven Hong and Ke Zhen'e. I know now, I know now, Guo Jing said to himself, remembering how Ke Zhen'e had swung his staff at Lotus. First Shifu was on the island. His eyes can't see, but his ears are keen. He heard Apothecary Huang carrying out his evil deeds. Somehow, he survived and escaped unharmed. That's why he tried to take Lotus's life. That's why he wants me to take her life. That's why he told me to bring him her head as well as her father's. Because he was here. Because he knows the truth. But I can't do that to Lotus. She didn't hurt anyone. She has nothing to do with … And yet, how can I ever be with her again? Wait … When we found Fourth Shifu, he was still alive … so that monster couldn't have gone far. I'll catch up with him. I'll cut off his head. I'll bring it to First Shifu. I'll die trying!
Now he had a clear sense of what he needed to do, he pulled the tiller and turned west toward the mainland again, with vengeance at the forefront of his mind.
BEFORE GUO Jing went ashore, he scuttled the boat by swinging the anchor into the hull. He could not bear the sight of anything associated with Peach Blossom Island now that his Masters were lying cold in the ground. The vessel rolled onto one side. He watched it for a long time from the beach as the waves dragged it under, as though it were carrying the last traces of his five shifus to the seabed with it. When no trace of the boat was left above the surface, he set off on foot, heading west, until he came upon a farm. There, after asking for directions to Jiaxing, he bought some rice and had his first meal in more than a day.
When he reached the Qiantang River, he decided to stop for the night. A glorious moon, almost completely full, shimmered on the water. As he gazed at it, humbled by the grandeur of nature, a thought suddenly occurred to him. Could it be Moon Festival already? Had he missed the contest at the Tower of Mist and Rain? He asked the innkeeper for the date and was relieved to hear that it was only the thirteenth day of the eighth month. He would make it in time, but he decided to travel through the night to be sure. He crossed the river and purchased a horse, arriving at Jiaxing just after noon the following day.
Once he entered the city, Guo Jing asked for the way to the Garden of the Eight Drunken Immortals. He had heard so much about the tavern from his shifus. They would recall with relish every detail of the fight against Qiu Chuji, giving him a blow-by-blow account of how they had tested each other's wit and kung fu with a bronze censer full of wine, and he had always longed to see the legendary drinking house with his own eyes.
It was just as his seventh shifu Jade Han had described it. The ornate building stood on the shore of South Lake, its eaves curling up into the sky as if taking wing, and its supports intricately carved and painted. Overhead, hanging outside, above the top floor, was a horizontal plaque. Though the black lacquer background was peeling in places, the gilded characters reading Garden of the Eight Drunken Immortals still gleamed bright and untarnished. They were written in the hand of Su Dongbo, one of the Song Empire's most admired poets, statesmen and calligraphers. Inside stood a large wooden sign that read Li Po's Legacy.
Guo Jing's heart throbbed to at last set foot in this fabled establishment, and he bounded up the stairs.
A waiter ran after him. "Sir, I'm afraid the upper floor has been reserved. Please take a seat downstairs."
A voice boomed from above. "Guo Jing, you're here!"
The young man looked up. A Taoist monk drinking alone. The lush beard reaching down to his chest could not mask the glow from his cheeks. Eternal Spring Qiu Chuji.
"Elder Qiu!" He sprinted over the final few steps and knelt before the Taoist, touching his forehead to the floor.
"How wonderful! You're here early." Qiu Chuji helped Guo Jing to his feet in good cheer, oblivious to the tearful croak in the young man's voice. "I look forward to feasting with your shifus tonight, before we fight Tiger Peng and his horde tomorrow. Are they here yet? I have the banquet prepared already." He gestured at the eight tables around him. Only one pair of chopsticks and one wine cup graced each large round surface, except for his, which had a place laid for every seat.
"Eighteen years ago, I first encountered your seven shifus here, and this was how they arranged the reception. Over here, vegetarian fare was served for Abbot Scorched Wood. It's such a shame that neither the Reverend nor your fifth shifu will be able to join us today."
Guo Jing turned away. He could not look Qiu Chuji in the eye.
"I've even brought the censer from Fahua Temple," the unobservant Taoist continued merrily. "When your shifus arrive, we shall drink to our hearts' delight!"
Guo Jing eyed the large bronze container looking rather out of place next to the painted screen. From where he was standing, he could see that, although the outside of the vessel had oxidized over the years into a mottle of greens and blacks, the inside had been scrubbed shiny and clean for this occasion. The aroma of a good vintage wafted through the air.
First Shifu is the only one who can take part in this reunion, Guo Jing thought darkly. I would give my life away—willingly and happily—this very moment, if I could see all seven of my teachers here, drinking, chatting, laughing—alive!
"As you know, your shifus and I pledged to meet here this year, on the twenty-fourth of the third month, for your duel with Yang Kang," Qiu reminisced. "To be honest, I always hoped that you'd win, ever since I made the wager with your shifus eighteen years ago. I've always held their principled ways in the highest esteem, and your victory would have brought further glory to the reputation of the Seven Freaks of the South.
"I might have taught Yang Kang for years, but I must confess that I never put my whole heart into the matter; I was more interested in roaming the world and ridding it of evil. That young man, alas, did prove our ancient wisdom—'Ink blackens all that is nigh'—with his upbringing in the Jurchen palace.
"His substandard kung fu is my fault, of course. I'm not ashamed to acknowledge my shortcomings as a teacher of the martial arts, but where I truly floundered was with his education. I have failed to instill in him the principles that shape a man of honor and virtue, and, in doing so, I have done your Uncle Yang a grievous wrong. I've heard that Yang Kang has changed his ways, but foul air can never be fully purged, and I deeply regret my oversight."
Guo Jing wondered if he should share the deceitful deeds Yang Kang had committed since Qiu Chuji had last seen him, but there had been so many, he did not know where to start, even if he did manage to get a word in edgeways.
"To make one's way in this world, one must always live by the principles of loyalty and righteousness. Achievements in literary or martial matters are trifling in comparison—they represent the very tips of branches, whereas our integrity is the trunk of a tree.
"Even if Yang Kang were a hundred times more skilled in kung fu, you would still have claimed victory for your shifus on the strength of your moral fiber. And Qiu Chuji admits his defeat not just with words, but from the depths of his heart." The monk chuckled, recalling the misunderstandings and misjudgments that had led to a lasting friendship.
"What's wrong, my boy?" He at last noticed that Guo Jing, instead of laughing along with him, was crying, and his question made the young man's tears flow faster.
Guo Jing cast himself to the floor and sobbed, "F-f-five of my shifus … gone…"
"What do you mean? Gone?" Qiu Chuji prayed that his ears were deceiving him.
"Only First Shifu … is still with us," Guo Jing choked out the words.
Qiu felt like he had been struck over the head by a crack of thunder. His powers of speech deserted him. He had been looking forward to a joyful reunion and he was expecting his friends to arrive at any moment. How could they have been snatched away so cruelly? He had spent only the briefest time with the Seven Freaks of the South over the past eighteen years, but the connection they shared was as close and inextricable as that between vital organs in his body. He had long considered them brothers, with whom he would stand shoulder to shoulder through life and unto death.
This unbidden news was a knife to the heart. He could not bear to sit at the feast he had prepared for his friends any longer, and he strode to the window. He leaned against the balustrade, the rippling expanse laid out before him, the faces and features of the Seven Freaks flitting through his mind. Tilting his head back, he yowled at the heavens.
"What's the point of this hateful thing when they're gone?" He wrapped his arms around the bronze censer and hurled it out over the lake with the full power of his inner strength. It crashed into the water with a mighty splash, sinking into the bottom in the blink of an eye.
"How did they die?" Qiu Chuji seized Guo Jing by the arms.
The young man was about to answer when he spotted a tall and lean man dressed in a green robe out of the corner of his eye. The man ascended the wooden staircase without making the slightest sound.
Am I seeing things? Guo Jing blinked. No … It's him! Apothecary Huang!
He pulled away from Qiu Chuji and sent his palm flying across the banquet table in a ferocious attack. This Haughty Dragon Repents contained every last drop of his neigong. He was holding nothing back—he did not care if he died, so long as he could drag Apothecary Huang down to the underworld with him.
Thrown by this unexpected aggression, the Heretic twisted a fraction to one side and reached out with his left arm. An adroit deflection.
Since Guo Jing had no reserve energy in his body, he had nothing left to deal with the Heretic's counter, and—craaaaack!—he hurtled through a wooden partition and plunged toward the ground floor.
THIS WAS not a lucky day for the Garden of the Eight Drunken Immortals. Guo Jing landed on its store of crockery.
Earlier, during the lunch trade, when the tavern's elderly manager saw Qiu Chuji arrive with the bronze censer and heard his unusual requests about the table settings, his heart trembled at the memory of the fight that had almost destroyed this establishment eighteen years before. Now, with the crash of cracking ceramics assaulting his ears, he entreated every deity for help. "O, Guanyin the Observer of Sound, deliver us from this ordeal … Jade Emperor, City God, help us…" But the hundreds of bowls and plates and saucers and cups that had broken Guo Jing's fall ignored his prayers and shattered into thousands of pieces.
Guo Jing held his hands high, as far away from the shards as he could, and flexed from his core to flip onto his feet. He charged up the stairs, only to catch a blast of green shooting out of the window in the wake of a gust of gray.
I can't subdue the Heretic barehanded, but I'll risk any number of blows to stick this into him. With that thought, Guo Jing whipped out the golden dagger tucked in his belt and jumped after Qiu Chuji and Apothecary Huang.
The streets of Jiaxing were always bustling at this time of the day, and, the moment two martial men were seen leaping out of the windows of the Garden of the Eight Drunken Immortals, a crowd began to gather, hopeful of catching some action. They were thrilled to witness the spectacular feat of a fighter gliding down from the tavern's first floor—until they saw the glinting knife in his hand. Screams broke out, and those closest to the armed warrior jostled to get out of his way, almost causing a stampede in their panic.
Apothecary Huang and Qiu Chuji were nowhere to be seen amid the crush of onlookers.
"Where did they go?" Guo Jing barked at an old man standing close to him.
The sight of the shiny blade had reduced the whitebeard to a trembling mess.
"Great sir, I know nothing! Let me live!"
Guo Jing repeated his question, but only the word "Mercy!" came forth from the aged man's lips.
Extending his arms before him, Guo Jing parted the throng, but could find no sign of either man. He ran back into the drinking house, sprinting upstairs to gain a better vantage point, and saw a skiff speeding toward the Tower of Mist and Rain—Apothecary Huang was sitting under the canopy, while Qiu Chuji worked the scull.
Elder Qiu won't stand a chance in single combat against the Heretic! he thought, and he hurried down to the waterfront, hopping on the first boat he came across. Seizing the oar, he threw the boatman ashore, keeping his eyes fixed on his shifus' murderer as he stabbed the scull into the lake with all his strength. But, on water, frantic and fraught motion can only impede one's progress. After one particularly violent twist of the blade, it snapped off and floated away. Groaning in frustration, Guo Jing peeled a plank from the deck and thrust that into the water, but his frenzied haste only resulted in him lagging farther and farther behind. When he had finally slogged his way to the quay beneath the Tower, the two men were long gone.
Calm down! You can't lose your head before you've had your revenge, Guo Jing told himself, filling his lungs slowly. He then exhaled in the same controlled way and repeated the breathing exercise three times. His mind became clear and his senses sharpened. His ears could now pick out the faint clanks of clashing weapons, as well as the swishing of blades cutting through the air. He could even make out occasional faraway huffs and growls.
There are more than two fighters! he noted in surprise, and he looked around to get a good grasp of his surroundings before approaching the Tower as stealthily as he could. The ground floor was deserted, but a familiar figure was perched on the banister at the top of the vertiginous staircase leading to the first floor.
"Shifu!" Guo Jing ran up and bowed.
Chewing loudly, Count Seven Hong nodded at his disciple. He then jabbed the leg of mutton in his hand at the courtyard below, indicating that Guo Jing should take a look, before bringing the juicy meat to his lips for another bite.
Guo Jing joined his Master and saw, amid flashes of steel, Apothecary Huang surrounded by … he counted eight men. However, the flush of elation that came with seeing the vile beast so beleaguered fizzled out when he took a closer look at the besiegers.
His first shifu Ke Zhen'e was among them. Swinging his metal staff, he stood back to back with a young Taoist armed with a sword. The rest of the fighters were clothed in similar gray robes—the Six Immortals of the Quanzhen Sect. Guo Jing knew them all and he could not bear the thought of losing yet another person he cared about to Apothecary Huang's cruel ways.
Guo Jing soon realized that they had assumed the Heavenly Northern Dipper formation, and Ke Zhen'e was at the Heavenly Jade position, the place once taken by Eternal Truth Tan Chuduan. The young monk paired with him was Harmony Yin, Qiu Chuji's disciple.
Even with Yin's help, it was obvious that his first shifu was un-familiar with the Taoists' tactics and was struggling to keep up with them. Guo Jing could also see that his mentor was less skilled than the Quanzhen Masters, and that his sightlessness was hampering his ability to adapt to the ever-changing formation.
The monks' swords danced as one, lunging forward, pulling back, drawing apart and gathering close.
It was as fierce a battle as Guo Jing had ever seen.
A month ago, in Ox Village, the Quanzhen Taoists had deployed two swords against Cyclone Mei and her shifu Apothecary Huang to extraordinary effect. Now, with seven blades and an iron staff, they were an awe-inspiring sight.
Meanwhile, the Heretic was armed only with his bare hands. He seemed to be on the back foot, for all he had done since Guo Jing's arrival was dodge his opponents. He had not found a chance to raise a palm or aim a kick over the space of several dozen moves.
Justice is catching up with you today! Guo Jing observed with satisfaction.
But, just then, Apothecary Huang pivoted on his left leg and spun, swiping twice at each of his attackers with his right foot. All eight men were forced to take three steps back.
Guo Jing had to give the man credit for this flawless demonstration of the Swirling Leaf Kick.
At this point, Huang looked up at Count Seven Hong and gave him a wave and a nod.
He seems so relaxed! I thought he was hard pressed … Guo Jing shook away his bewilderment as the Heretic raised his left palm, cleaving it down at an angle toward Eternal Life Liu Chuxuan's head.
He was indisputably on the offensive now.
An assault on Liu's position, the Heavenly Pearl, should have been countered by the Taoist's neighbors on either side, Qiu Chuji at the Heavenly Power and Ke Zhen'e at the Heavenly Jade. Qiu's sword flickered instantly at their assailant's right armpit, but Ke was a beat slower—he thrust his staff only at Harmony Yin's prompting.
Under normal circumstances, the eldest of the Freaks was able to compensate for his loss of sight with his keen hearing, locating friend and foe alike from scratching footsteps, rustling clothes and other noises they made as they moved. Up against Apothecary Huang's nimble feet and lightning strikes, which left no sonic trace and little stirring in the air, he was truly left in the dark.
The Heretic's blow lashed down at Liu Chuxuan. The formation's interlocking defensive system had failed. And yet, for reasons unbeknownst to the Taoist, the attacking hand hovered for a split second, a hair's breadth from the crown of his head.
The monk grabbed his chance, flopping to the ground and rolling out of the way. At that same moment, Ma Yu and Wang Chuyi thrust their swords at the Heretic.
Liu Chuxuan might have escaped certain death, but the Heavenly Northern Dipper had lost a vital component.
Cackling, Apothecary Huang rammed into the Sage of Tranquility Sun Bu'er, shooting beyond the formation by three steps, then suddenly plowed backward into Infinite Peace Hao Datong.
Why is he running into me with his back exposed? Surprise at the Heretic's unusual move slowed Hao's blade by a beat.
The Heretic whizzed past, as agile as a darting hare. He stopped, twenty paces away from the Quanzhen monks.
He had broken through the formation.
Count Seven chuckled in approval. "What a handsome performance!"
"They need help!" Guo Jing cried, making for the stairs.
"Not so hasty!" the Beggar cried after him. "I was concerned for your shifu at first, when your father-in-law wouldn't fight back. You can never presume to know what the Heretic has up his sleeve. But now I can see that he's not in the mood to hurt anyone today."
"Really?" The young man halted, curious to learn how his Master had come to that conclusion.
"If he wanted bloodshed, do you think that skinny monkey of a monk would still be alive? These little Taoists are no match for him. Not at all." He sunk his teeth into the mutton leg, tearing off a large piece, and explained through a mouthful of meat: "The Quanzhen lads were teaching your first shifu the Heavenly Northern Dipper before your father-in-law and Qiu Chuji arrived. Yet it's not something you can pick up in just a few minutes. They tried hard to persuade Master Ke to stay out of the fight, but he wouldn't take no for an answer. I don't know what could've happened to sow such enmity between him and the Heretic. Anyway, that's why he's now sharing the Heavenly Jade position with the young 'un, but, of course, they aren't strong enough to block your father's killer moves."
"He's not my father!"
"Eh? What do you mean?"
Guo Jing glowered, too angry to speak.
"Where's Lotus? Did you lovebirds fall out?"
"Nothing to do with her," he answered curtly. "That beast—he—he killed my shifus—"
"What? Are you sure?"
But Guo Jing's attention was drawn away by the intensifying tussle below. Apothecary Huang had now turned to his signature kung fu, Splitting Sky Palm. The air shrieked with each slice of his hand. None of his opponents could get within a dozen paces of him.
The Martial Great's kung fu was formidable, but not to the extent that he could keep skilled fighters of Ma Yu, Qiu Chuji and Wang Chuyi's level at a distance, barehanded, under normal circumstances. However, the Heavenly Northern Dipper's power came from the relationship between the seven positions, and, if one fighter were pushed back, the rest would have to retreat alongside them.
Right now, Hao Datong, Sun Bu'er, Ke Zhen'e and Harmony Yin were the weak links. Each step they gained, they were sent back by two.
The Quanzhen monks were preserving the outline of the formation, but Apothecary Huang was able to slip between their well-honed blades at will nonetheless.
"A-ha! I see what he's doing," Count Seven said aloud to himself.
"Tell me, please!"
"Our Heretic is a sly old fox. He's pushed them back so he can tease them into showing him the inner workings of the formation. Within ten moves, he'll bring them close again."
Count Seven Hong's martial abilities might have been diminished by the injuries he had suffered at Viper Ouyang's hands, but the Venom could not destroy the martial acumen he had acquired through a lifetime's practice.
Apothecary Huang did exactly as the Beggar had predicted. Each thrust of his palm grew weaker than the last as he drew the Quanzhen Taoists and Ke Zhen'e closer and closer in, until the eight of them were clustered around him.
Four swords speared as one.
To fail to draw blood at such close quarters was unthinkable, and yet, somehow, the blades all glided past, missing the Heretic by a hair's breadth.
If Liu Chuxuan, Qiu Chuji, Wang Chuyi and Hao Datong were any less agile, they would have each received a gaping wound by a brother's hand.
Guo Jing could see that Apothecary Huang had grasped the underlying principle behind the formation, and that he would not hesitate to strike at its weakest point—Ke Zhen'e and Harmony Yin.
I can't do any good from up here … With that thought, he flew down the steps, calling out, "I'm going to help them," over his shoulder.