Chapter 13 - GOOD AND EVIL, RIGHT AND WRONG

1

For days, Ulaan galloped south with Guo Jing on his back, barely stopping to rest. They only eased off when they had covered enough distance that no pursuing force could hope to catch them. As they approached the Central Plains, the days grew warmer and the grass greener and more lush. But each city they passed was scarred by war, with corpses and bones piled high by the roadside. Guo Jing was shocked by the horrific sights and sounds along the way.

Resting at a dilapidated pavilion, he found himself studying the scrawls left by travelers on the walls, and one message in particular caught his eye.

A Tang dynasty poet wrote:

Running water murmurs in the slanting sun,

No sign of dogs or livestock, just croaking crows.

Thousands of villages but not one cooking fire,

No sign of habitation, just flowers wild.

Once glorious like the finest brocade, the mountains and rivers of our Central Plains are now ruined by fierce battles waged by foreign brutes. The people suffer greatly, their misery far beyond the weight carried by these words.

Sorrow welled up in Guo Jing as he stared at the characters. He began to weep.

He had been riding without a destination, without a purpose. In one year, he had lost his mother, Lotus and his shifus—the people dearest to him in this world. They had been snatched away from him, one by one. Viper Ouyang killed his shifus and Lotus. He ought to take revenge, but, at the thought of retribution, the horrors of the Khwarazmian massacres flooded his mind. In his quest to avenge his father, he had caused the death of tens of thousands of innocents who had no connection to his personal feud. How could he ever make peace with that in his heart? Maybe it was wrong to seek redress?

Overwhelmed by the bereavements he had suffered, Guo Jing began to question and doubt all that he had known, believed and lived for.

I've spent my life working on my kung fu, but what was the point of all that training? he asked himself. I couldn't protect my mother. I couldn't protect Lotus. What purpose has my martial knowledge served? I tried so hard to be a good person, but did that make anybody happy? Mother died because of me. Lotus died because of me. Khojin will be miserable for the rest of her life because of me. So many people have suffered—all because of me.

No one could dispute the villainy of Wanyan Honglie and Shah Muhammad of Khwarazm, but what about Genghis Khan? He killed Wanyan Honglie, which should make him a good man, and yet he ordered me to conquer the Song Empire. He gave my mother and I refuge for twenty years, then drove her to take her own life.

Yang Kang and I made our pledge of brotherhood, agreeing to share our blessings and to bear each other's troubles, but we never lived by it—we were never of one heart. Sister Mercy Mu is a good person, so why is she so steadfast in her love for Yang Kang? Tolui and I are anda, we have been sworn brothers in the truest sense, and yet, if he leads his troops south, are we to face one another on the battlefield? Are we to fight to the death? No! No! We all have a mother, and they risked everything to carry us in their bellies for nine moons. Our mothers sacrificed everything to raise us. How can I kill a mother's son and break her heart? I can't bear the thought of killing Tolui, and neither could he bring himself to take my life. But how can I stand by and let him slaughter my people—the people of the Song Empire?

What's the point of learning kung fu? To fight, to kill. Everything I've done over the past twenty years is wrong. I've worked hard and strived to learn, to train. And the result? I bring harm to the people around me. If I'd known, I would have refused to learn even the simplest move. But, if I hadn't trained in the martial arts, what would I have done? What is the point of me living in this world? How should I spend the next decades before I die? Is it better to go on living or to die young? I'm already plagued by so many troubles and worries, and they're only going to grow. But what would be the point of Ma bringing me into this world if I die young? What would be the point of her putting in so much effort to raise me?

These questions whirled round and round in Guo Jing's head, and the more he tried to find answers, the more confused he became. For days now, he had found no appetite at mealtimes, and sleep had not come to him at night. He wandered the wilderness, grappling with these matters at all hours.

Ma and each and every one of my shifus taught me to honor my word and to always keep faith, he said to himself. And so, even though I loved Lotus with all my heart, I did not turn my back on my troth-plight to the Great Khan's daughter. But what did that lead to? Death. The unjust and untimely deaths of Lotus and my mother. And did my stubbornness make anyone happy? Not Genghis Khan, not Tolui, not Khojin.

The Seven Heroes of the South lived by the principles of righteous loyalty, but none of them came to a good end. Shifu Hong is generous to all, and yet he is saddled with injuries that are slow to heal. Viper Ouyang and Qiu Qianren have done many terrible things, but they still roam free and unburdened. Does the Way of the Heavens exist? Is the Lord of the Heavens blind? Does He care about justice? Does He care about good and evil?

Was I right to plead for the Samarkandians? Should I have let the Khan have his way?

Guo Jing brooded over these issues as he roamed through the wastelands, drifting without purpose. Ulaan trailed after him, stopping every so often for a mouthful of fresh grass.

I traded Lotus's life to save theirs. I didn't know a single soul in that city of several hundred thousand—I shared no ties, no bonds, no kinship with any of them, men or women, old or young. For Lotus, I'd happily give my life. It's a choice I would never rue. And yet, I asked the Great Khan to spare those wretched Samarkandians and almost lost my head in the process. My brothers-in-arms begrudged me for it too. They risked their lives to take the city, but a few words from me snatched away their chance to plunder it.

My desire to help those strangers cost Lotus her life, and I nearly paid with mine too. For their sake, I offended the Great Khan, my soldiers and my good friends. Was I an idiot? Yes, what I did was stupid—but was it something I had to do?

My six shifus, Master Hong and my mother all taught me to act with righteousness, to uphold justice, to help those in need. They taught me to put others first, so I'd never stand by and refuse to offer a helping hand to those in danger just because it was not to my benefit. They taught me to be prepared to give my life to stop those who would inflict harm on the defenseless.

The Jurchens invaded my homeland and butchered my people. It's my duty to resist them—whether I live or die as a result, whether my actions get me into more trouble or not, should never be my concern. If the Great Khan sacks Lin'an, he'll be killing the Song people. I'd give up Lotus, I'd give up my life to save as many as I could. That would be the right thing to do.

A great man's heart should be bounteous and compassionate. As Shifu Count Seven Hong has said to me many times: "Death is no hindrance to an act righteous and just." Of course, that's how it should be, but Khwarazm has nothing to do with the Song Empire, the people of Samarkand aren't Han Chinese like me. They speak a different language. They write in a different script. Even their facial features and the color of their eyes and hair are different from mine. What have they got to do with me? Why could I not stomach the sight of them being slaughtered by Mongolian soldiers? Why did I feel like that? Was I utterly, utterly in the wrong? Am I only to give my life to save those dear to me—my parents, my shifus, my friends and my beloved Lotus? Should I not bother with those who bear no relation to me?

When Viper Ouyang and his nephew's raft fell apart at sea, Shifu chose to help those scoundrels, without a second thought. He simply did what he felt he should do, not caring whether his actions would serve him well. Unlike the Venom. Shifu saved his life, but that heartless ingrate did not hesitate to deal his rescuer a death blow. Shifu nearly died from his injuries, but he never once regretted pulling them from the water and from the clutches of death.

I remember when he told us: "When we see someone in trouble, we should always help them, regardless of the consequences for ourselves. When we talk about acting with righteousness and upholding justice, we're talking about what's good and evil, what's right and wrong, and that is key to the moral code of xia—doing what's just, doing what's true, doing what's right, doing what's humane, doing what brings peace to our hearts. If we weigh whatever we do in terms of success and failure, gains and losses, benefits and costs—that's just business, it's not altruism or being charitable, or doing good deeds. When we do good, it may not be in our best interests, but that doesn't matter, because the point of our existence is to act 'righteous and just.'"

Yes, that's it! I see now what Shifu was trying to tell me. I should help my own people. I should help those of different tribes. I should do what I feel needs to be done, help anyone in need—it doesn't matter who they are or whether my actions are to my advantage or not.

If I were dying of thirst in the desert and a shepherd from Samarkand rode by on his camel, would he give me water from the plentiful supply he had? I think he would overlook the fact that we were total strangers and offer me a drink, because it would be an act "righteous and just."

I saved the people of Samarkand, but my choice condemned Lotus. Should I have acted otherwise? No! I didn't kill Lotus. It was Viper Ouyang. He chased her into the swamp. I risked my life searching for her, but I couldn't find her—I couldn't save her. I'd give my life so she could live again, but she didn't know that when she died. Now that her spirit is in the heavens, she knows. She knows that I only failed to ask Genghis Khan to cancel my betrothal to Khojin because I was begging him to spare hundreds of thousands of Samarkandians who were about to be exterminated. She knows she's the one I want to marry. She knows! She knows!

The thought that Lotus's spirit, whether in the heavens above or in the netherworld below, knew what was in his heart and that he had always been true to her, offered some solace to Guo Jing, for it meant that they had at last resolved the misunderstanding that had torn them apart. Of course, he would have much preferred that she were still alive.

I wish Lotus were still here, he sighed. She could hate me, resent me—I don't mind. She could spurn me, ignore me—I'd accept that. She could marry another man—I'd give her my blessing. As long as she was here, alive!

At last, the tangled thoughts that had so troubled Guo Jing were beginning to straighten out.

2

Arriving in a small town near the city of Jinan, in Shandong province, Guo Jing found himself a table at a tavern, in the hope of dulling his grief with drink. Just as he was gulping down his third cup, a burly man rushed through the doors.

"Tartar scum!" he shouted, jabbing a finger into Guo Jing's face. "You murdered my family. I'll kill you!" The finger was swiftly followed by a punch.

Taken aback, Guo Jing raised his left hand, caught the man's wrist and guided his fist away to one side. The reflexive defensive move slammed the fellow facedown into the floor—he clearly knew no martial arts at all. Guo Jing was extremely sorry that he had given this man a bloody forehead and extended a hand to help him up.

"Brother, you're mistaking me for someone else."

"Tartar scum!" the man yelled even louder. A dozen or so townspeople charged into the tavern and started raining blows on Guo Jing in a scrum of fists and feet.

Over the past few days, Guo Jing had come to the conclusion that kung fu brought only harm and destruction, and had made up his mind not to raise a hand against anyone. So he swerved and dodged from side to side, refusing to launch a single counterstroke at these aggressive strangers, none of whom had any martial training. But, as more and more angry men poured in, filling the little tavern, quite a number of punches and kicks began to land on his body. Guo Jing knew he had to get away from the mob before the situation got out of hand. Just as he gathered his strength to clear a path out of the tavern, he heard a familiar voice from beyond the doorway.

"Guo Jing, what are you doing here?"

The young man looked through the crowd to see strands of a long, flowing beard fluttering over plain Taoist robes—Eternal Spring Qiu Chuji!

"Elder Qiu!" he cried out in joy. "I don't know why they're attacking me."

Qiu Chuji parted the hostile horde and pulled Guo Jing out from their midst. The two martial men sped off using lightness qinggong, leaving the brawlers panting far behind.

Ulaan found his master by following his whistles, and it did not take long for the three of them to reach the uninhabited wilderness beyond the town. The young man recounted how he had been set upon for no reason whatsoever, but Qiu Chuji just laughed at his confusion.

"You're dressed in Mongolian clothes. The townsfolk took you for one of them."

The Taoist went on to explain that the Mongolians and the Jurchens had been waging war throughout Shandong. At first, the people aided the Mongols, for they had long suffered under the Jin, but soon they discovered that all soldiers are equally savage. They had merely swapped one tyranny for another—villages were still being burned, people were still being slaughtered, women were still being taken, anything of value was still being plundered … So, whenever the locals found Mongolian riders separated from their fellows, they would tear into the stragglers, beating them to death.

"Why didn't you fight back? You're bruised and swollen all over."

Guo Jing heaved a sigh and told Qiu Chuji about Genghis Khan'ssecret plan for the conquest of the Song Empire, which had led to his mother's suicide and his escape from Mongolia.

"We must hurry south and warn the Imperial Court. We need to prepare our defenses."

"What good will that do? When two armies meet, there won't just be mountains of dead soldiers—countless lives and homes will also be destroyed."

"The people's suffering will be greater if our Song Empire falls to the Mongols."

Guo Jing considered Qiu Chuji's response. "There are many things I struggle to fathom. Could I ask the Reverend to enlighten me?"

The Taoist monk took the young man by the hand, led him to a nearby scholar tree and invited him to sit down in its shade. "I shall do what I can."

The concerns Guo Jing had been wrestling with for the past days poured out of him, in particular his confusion over what was right and wrong, and the moral pitfalls of practicing the martial arts. When he was done, the young man exhaled deeply and added, "I have decided never again to raise a hand against another person. I wish I could unlearn what I've learned, but it's hard to make the muscles forget. Just now, without even thinking about it, I cracked open a poor fellow's head."

"You're mistaken, Guo Jing. When the existence of the Nine Yin Manual became known in the wulin, decades ago, many martial masters died trying to obtain it. As you know, that was why the Contest of Mount Hua was held. My shifu, Wang Chongyang the Double Sun Immortal, prevailed over the other Greats and won custodianship of the Manual. He had originally planned to destroy it, but he changed his mind, saying, 'Water can carry a boat, but it can also capsize it. Let the world decide whether they will use it for good or evil.'

"Literary flair, military wisdom, hardy soldiers, sharp weapons—they can all be of great benefit to humankind, but they can also bring calamity upon us. If you are compassionate and stout of heart, then, the stronger your kung fu, the more good you can do. Why would you wish to cast off your knowledge?"

"I am sure the Reverend knows best," Guo Jing said, mulling over the Taoist's words. "The greatest martial artists of our age are the Heretic of the East, the Venom of the West, the King of the South and the Beggar of the North. It's no mean feat to even approach their level, and yet, if one manages to do so, what good will it bring—for oneself and for the people?"

Qiu Chuji considered how best to respond. "Apothecary Huang's peculiar conduct is rooted in his disdain for convention and worldly ways," he said, after a long pause, "but he is not often given the chance to explain or justify himself. However, he is also known to act willfully, with little regard for others, and that I cannot condone. Viper Ouyang has done many wicked deeds and we need say no more about him. King Duan was a generous and benevolent ruler who could have done much good for the people, but he chose to renounce the world and live as a recluse because of an affair of the heart, which is not exactly the behavior of one who possesses true compassion and staunch principles. The one I wholly admire and would happily prostrate myself before is Count Seven Hong—he truly does uphold justice and help those in need. The second Contest of Mount Hua is almost upon us. It is possible that someone out there may surpass Chief Hong's martial achievements, but the heroes under the heavens will still honor him above all others in the wulin—because none can fault him for his actions and his heart."

"Has Shifu recovered from his injuries? Do you know if he'll compete on Mount Hua?"

"I haven't seen Chief Hong since returning from the Western Regions, but, whether or not he takes part in the Contest, I am sure he will be there. I am on my way to the mountain myself, in fact. Why don't you come with me?"

"Pardon me, Elder Qiu, but I do not wish to go to a place where the only talk is of kung fu." Guo Jing was feeling so disillusioned that the mere thought of the Contest made him apprehensive.

"Where will you go next?"

"I don't know."

Qiu Chuji was unsettled by Guo Jing's low spirits and withered expression, which were those of a man who had suffered a grave illness and lost all will to live. He tried to console the young man and cheer him up, but the only response he managed to solicit was a weary shake of the head.

He doesn't want to listen to me, the Taoist thought with a sigh, but he'll probably heed his shifu Count Seven Hong. If I can persuade him to come to Mount Hua, a reunion with Chief Hong will spur him on and lift him out of this rut. But how do I get him to join me?… Yes, maybe this will work!

Qiu Chuji looked Guo Jing in the eye and said, "If you truly wish to set aside your martial skills, I believe it is possible."

"Really?"

"There is a man who mastered the Nine Yin Manual without any conscious effort on his part, but, in order to stay true to the vow he made, he forced himself to forget everything—"

"Of course! Brother Zhou! He can teach me his method!"

Guo Jing jumped up in excitement, but then it struck him how rude he had been—Zhou Botong was Qiu Chuji's martial uncle, so, by calling him brother, he had just claimed to be the Taoist's senior.

Noticing the young man's sheepish expression, Qiu Chuji smiled. "Uncle Zhou cares little for hierarchies and honorifics. Call him what you like, I don't mind."

"Where is he?"

"He'll most certainly come to Mount Hua."

"I will join you, then."

When they reached the next town, Guo Jing bought a horse for Qiu Chuji and they rode side by side westward, arriving at the foot of Mount Hua in a matter of days.

3

One of the Five Mountains that Chinese Emperors had since time immemorial made pilgrimage to, Mount Hua was known as the Mountain of the West because it occupied the most westerly location among its fellow peaks. The ancients matched the Five Mountains to the Five Classics of the Confucian canon, and Mount Hua, with its sheer crags and jagged tors, was compared to the Spring and Autumn Annals, which had the most austere content out of all the Classics, being a chronicle of major events in the State of Lu.

Qiu Chuji and Guo Jing began their ascent from the south, where the start of the trail was marked by the Mountain Herb Pavilion. Twelve enormous dragon-vine trees had taken root beside this open structure. Coiled and intertwined, their gnarly branches twisted toward the heavens like flying dragons, reminding Guo Jing of the Dragon Soars in the Sky technique from the Dragon-Subduing Palm. He even started to see connections between the rugged contours of the ancient bark and the key tenets of the Nine Yin Manual, and found himself dreaming up a fist-fighting repertoire of twelve moves based on their stark, knotty outlines. He was drawn into the mental exercise, until a sudden thought stole into his mind: Why am I dreaming up new ways to hurt people? I'm supposed to be setting aside my kung fu!

While Guo Jing berated himself for his lack of resolve, he heard Qiu Chuji say, "To us Taoists, Mount Hua is of great spiritual importance. These twelve dragon-vine trees are said to have been planted by our Ancient Grandmaster Chen Tuan."

"Is he the Immortal who slept for many years?"

"Quite so! Ancient Grandmaster Chen Tuan, or Master Xiyi, as he was sometimes honored, was born toward the end of the Tang dynasty and lived under five ruling families—Liang, Tang, Jin, Han and Zhou. Each time he heard about a dynastic change, he shut the doors of his house and lay down in sorrow. Rumor had it that he was deep in slumber, but, in fact, he was so concerned about the chaos and disturbances under the heavens and the sufferings of the common people that he kept himself indoors. And yet, when he heard the news that Emperor Taizu, the founding father of our Song Empire, had ascended the throne, he roared with laughter. So elated was he that he fell off his donkey and announced that peace had come to the world. Emperor Taizu was benevolent and compassionate; the people did indeed live well under his rule."

"If Ancient Grandmaster Chen Tuan were alive today, he would probably close his doors again, for years," Guo Jing said, shaking his head sadly.

Sighing, Qiu Chuji replied, "The Mongolians have taken control of the north, and now they've turned their sights on the South. Our Song Emperor and his officials are corrupt and inept. They see no way to turn the situation around, but we are full-blooded men, we cannot just give up, even when all seems lost. Master Xiyi was as wise as he was enlightened, but to stand aside and shy away from the cause of one's worries is not an act befitting a truly compassionate and righteous man, nor the behavior of one who lives according to the moral code of xia."

The two men left their horses at the base of the mountain and made their way up on foot. They passed through Peach Grove Plain, crossed Xiyi Gorge and continued on their way up Sal Tree Plain. Mount Hua lived up to its treacherous reputation, and the path grew more perilous with each step they took toward the summit. When they came to the Gate of Western Mysteries, the route was so steep that one had to hoist oneself up with the help of a metal cable, but Qiu Chuji and Guo Jing scaled the severe incline with ease, using lightness kung fu. After another seven li, they arrived at Green Branches Plain. Beyond this rare stretch of flat terrain, vertiginous rocks rose up, looking for all the world as though they had been splintered from the peak with sharp blades, and a giant boulder blocked the way to the northern escarpment.

"This is Turn Around Rock," Qiu Chuji explained. "From here to the summit, the trail is even more dangerous. Travelers would be wise to heed its advice at this point."

A small stone pavilion stood ahead of them, far in the distance. The Taoist monk pointed it out. "That's Wager Pavilion. Legend has it that Emperor Taizu played a game of Go, there, with Chen Tuan, with Mount Hua as the stake. The Emperor lost, and the people of this place have been exempt from sending silver and grain to the court ever since."

"Genghis Khan, the Shah of Khwarazm, the Emperors of the Song and the Jin—they gamble with each other for mastery of the world, and we common people are just the many stones they toy with on the Go board."

"Indeed." Qiu Chuji nodded in agreement. "Guo Jing, it makes me very happy to hear that you've been thinking about such matters, and that you're no longer the unworldly, rather ignorant boy you once were. As you have wisely observed, these kings, rulers and generals wager their subjects and their kingdoms, and when they lose, they don't just lose their lands, they lose their heads, and in the process bring immeasurable pain to the people."

The conversation lapsed as the two men navigated the Thousand Chi Precipice and the Hundred Chi Crevice, for so narrow were these passes that they could only progress by squeezing themselves through them sideways.

Guo Jing marveled at the dizzying landscape. If someone were to waylay us here, he said to himself, we'd have no room to maneuver or defend ourselves.

Just as that notion entered his head, a man called out to them from up ahead. "Qiu Chuji, we spared you at the Tower of Mist and Rain. Why are you here on Mount Hua?"

The Taoist dashed forward a few steps and took cover in a slight recess along the cliff wall. Marginally less exposed, he looked up to see Hector Sha, Tiger Peng, Lama Supreme Wisdom and Browbeater Hou blocking the precipitous path to the summit. He had expected Viper Ouyang and Qiu Qianren to make an appearance, but had reasoned that since Zhou Botong, Count Seven Hong and Apothecary Huang would also be present, he would not have to worry about them. What he had not foreseen was that mediocre martial artists like Hector Sha would also make the journey, and that they would be so contemptible as to ambush him during his ascent through unfavorable terrain.

Qiu Chuji was now standing in a less precarious spot, but it would not take much to send him plummeting into the ravine ten thousand zhang below. To grasp the advantage of making the first move, the monk drew his sword with a sha! and thrust its point at Browbeater Hou in a White Flash Pierces the Sky.

The Three-Horned Dragon was not only the weakest of Qiu Chuji's assailants, he had also lost an arm to Apothecary Huang in Ox Village. Nevertheless, he was able to twist away from the ferocious lunge and fend it off with his pitchfork.

As the two weapons clashed, Qiu Chuji's strength surged to the tip of his blade. Using the point of contact as a pivot, the Taoist sprung up and vaulted over Browbeater Hou's head, a leap that also sent him sailing clear of Tiger Peng and Lama Supreme Wisdom's combined pincer assault.

Their weapons fell on the cliff face instead. Sparks flew as metal grated on rock.

Seeing his companions fail to hold back Qiu Chuji, despite their three to one advantage, Hector Sha swerved this way and that using Shape Changing kung fu to block the Taoist monk's advance. Qiu flashed his sword, forcing Sha to retreat farther and farther back. The Dragon King was determined to stand in the Quanzhen Master's way, but he too was impeded by the loss of an arm, which had been hacked off at Iron Spear Temple to stem the spread of Viper Ouyang's venom.

At last, Qiu Chuji managed to push past his opponent, but Hector Sha gave chase, refusing to give him a moment's respite. Tiger Peng had now rejoined the fray, jabbing at Qiu with his Scribe's Brushes, while Lama Supreme Wisdom clashed and clanged his cymbals.

Guo Jing could see that Qiu Chuji was increasingly hard-pressed. He knew he ought to step in, but, at the same time, he was revolted by the fierce fighting—surely it would be immoral to involve himself in such a scrap. He turned his back on the skirmish and climbed down the pass with the help of a vine, looking for a different route to the summit. As he walked away, two questions echoed in his mind: Should I help Elder Qiu? Should I raise my fists again? The more he agonized over what he ought to do, the more befuddled he became. If I don't help him and he ends up injured or worse, would it be my fault? If I help him and throw his attackers off the cliff, would that be right or wrong?

He was now so far from the scuffle that he could no longer hear the clash of weapons. Sitting down on a boulder, he stared blankly at the majestic prospect, trying to settle on the right course of action.

Guo Jing focused on his dilemma, with no sense of how much time was passing, until a rustle from a nearby clutch of trees jolted him back to the present. He looked over to find a man with long white hair and a ruddy complexion peering at him—Graybeard Liang the Ginseng Codger—then turned back to survey the view once more.

Putting Guo Jing's blank reaction down to his confidence in his superior martial skills, Old Liang ducked back among the trees. He was ruffled to be so ignored, though he could not deny that the boy was indeed more than a match for him. He watched from his hiding place with bated breath, expecting Guo Jing to come for him at any moment, but the frowning young man just mumbled to himself, listless and lost, as if he had been possessed by demons.

Why's he acting so strange? Graybeard Liang wondered. He decided to give Guo Jing a little prod.

Not daring to draw near, he threw a stone at the boy's back. Guo Jing merely turned a fraction to the side to evade the projectile. He did not acknowledge the culprit with so much as a glance.

Taking courage from this, the old man drew nearer. "Guo Jing, what are you doing here?"

"I'm wondering if it's right to inflict harm on another with my kung fu," came the honest answer.

It took a moment for the Ginseng Immortal to grasp the significance of this response. The boy really is a fool, he thought with excitement, taking a couple more steps forward.

"Certainly not! It's deeply wrong to use one's martial skills to hurt others."

"You think so too? I really want to purge everything I know from my head and my body."

Old Liang kept his eyes locked on Guo Jing, who was gazing at the sky, and said in his most soothing tone, "I've been trying to forget my martial knowledge too. I can help you, if you like." As he spoke, he crept up to a spot right behind the young man.

Taking no notice of his furtive approach, Guo Jing replied, "Great! Tell me what I should do."

"I know an excellent way."

The Ginseng Immortal seized Guo Jing, locking two major pressure points, Celestial Pillar, at the nape of his neck and Spirit Hall, near the right shoulder blade. By the time the young man had registered the contact, his whole body had gone numb and he had lost control of his limbs.

Graybeard Liang sniggered. "You'll know no kung fu when I'm finished with you." Then he clamped his teeth over Guo Jing's throat, breaking the skin. He lapped up the blood, careful not to waste a single drop, for it had been fortified by the vital fluid of the python he had spent many years cultivating with precious medicinal herbs.

Your kung fu improved so much after you drank my snake's blood, whereas I'm still stuck at the same level. Old Liang sucked harder at the memory of that fateful night. I'm going to take back what's mine—I'll drink you dry! He slurped away, too worked up to give any thought to whether the python blood was still potent after two years in the boy's veins.

Stars danced before Guo Jing's eyes. Whether from pain or from blood loss, he was not certain, but he knew he ought to resist. He summoned his strength, but, with the two acupoints sealed, he could not channel his energy at all. He watched as crimson webs spread across the whites of his attacker's eyes and a feral snarl took over the man's face.

He's going to bite through my windpipe! The young man's body screamed as Old Liang's teeth sank deeper into his flesh.

Guo Jing no longer had the mental capacity to agonize over whether or not it was acceptable to use his martial knowledge. Instinct took over. Drawing on the Transforming Muscles, Forging Bones technique from the Nine Yin Manual, he sent a blast of elemental qi from his Elixir Field to the two vital points in his enemy's control. The force disrupted the joints in Graybeard Liang's thumbs and index fingers, making his hands slip off the vital points.

Guo Jing dipped his chin, hunched his shoulders and tugged in his stomach sharply. This series of subtle movements generated an explosive burst of energy from his waist, far more powerful than anything the arms or legs could muster. It rocked the older man's footing and tossed him up into the air.

Over Guo Jing's head and over the cliff edge.

Graybeard Liang's spine-chilling cries echoed between the bare crags, amplified by the sheer rocky surfaces. Guo Jing stared into the depths in shock, trying to come to terms with what he had done.

I have killed yet another person with my martial learning … But, if I hadn't reacted that way, I'd be dead. It's not right to take his life, but am I supposed to do nothing and let him kill me?

Accepting that he had no answer to this, Guo Jing leaned over the edge and looked down into the gorge. He was so high up that he could not see all the way to the bottom—it was impossible to determine the Ginseng Codger's final resting place.

GUO JING sat back down, still in a daze. After a while, he remembered the wound on his neck and tore a strip from his robe. He had just finished bandaging when—clack … clack clack—he heard a series of intermittent, arrhythmic taps coming from behind him.

As he turned, a strange sight came into view. It was a moment before he registered the figure as human.

But it was upside down, as though doing a handstand.

The man clutched a round stone in each hand. With each "step," he struck them against the rocky ground, which accounted for the clacking sounds.

Astonished that anybody would choose to move around in such a curious manner, Guo Jing squatted down and tilted his head to get a better look at the man's face.

Viper Ouyang!

He backed away, eyeing the Martial Great with caution, convinced that some infernal plot was unfolding—the timing of the Venom's appearance, so soon after the unpleasant encounter with Graybeard Liang, and the peculiar manner of his entrance were too strange to be a coincidence.

Viper bent his arms, then straightened them out, springing onto a boulder. He landed on his head, pressed his arms to his sides and extended his feet into the sky in a headstand. His body was as stiff as a corpse.

Intrigued, Guo Jing could not resist asking about the meaning of this series of bizarre moves. "Master Ouyang, what are you doing?"

But the martial Master did not grant him an answer. He looked as if he had not heard a word he had said. Guo Jing retreated a few more paces and held his left arm over his chest to guard it. Thus protected, he observed the Venom from a safe distance. He waited for some time, long enough to drink a pot of tea, and yet Viper did not move from that awkward stance. The young man was eager to get to the bottom of this perplexing display, but it was hard to read the Martial Great's face because of his inverted posture. So, Guo Jing turned his back on the Venom and bent over to look through his parted legs. Now that he was oriented the same way, he noticed that his nemesis was sweating profusely. He seemed to be in great discomfort.

He must be practicing some strange neigong technique. Just as the thought presented itself to Guo Jing, Viper stretched his arms out until they leveled with his shoulders and began to rotate, pirouetting on his head like a spinning top. He whirled faster and faster, his sleeves flapping noisily in the gust whipped up by his movement.

He is indeed practicing internal kung fu, Guo Jing said to himself. What a curious technique that it requires him to be upside down like this!

Suddenly, it struck him that Viper Ouyang was at his most vulnerable right now, for, when cultivating advanced inner-strength skills, one had to center all the energy in the body, to the point where there was nothing left to defend against even the smallest external provocation. It was customary to ask teachers or friends accomplished in the martial arts to stand guard, or to find a secluded place, to avoid being disturbed.

Yet, it seemed to Guo Jing that the Venom was practicing here alone, neglecting to take any of the usual precautions. It was especially baffling that he would do so on Mount Hua, at a time when the greatest martial Masters under the heavens were assembling in that very place. Most heroes of the wulin were at odds with Venom of the West, and there were probably enough plots against his person brewing on an ordinary day, let alone on the eve of the second Contest. What had made him so brazen as to train by himself? In his current state, it would take no more than a simple punch or a regular kick from a well-built man without any knowledge of kung fu to cause him grievous internal injuries. Right now, Viper Ouyang was a piece of meat lying on the chopping block, waiting for the carver's knife.

As that image flashed by, Guo Jing thought of Lotus and his shifus. Killed or murdered at the hands of this unscrupulous man. This was the chance for revenge he had been dreaming of. What was he waiting for? He took a couple of steps toward the man who had taken so much from him, but, all of a sudden, he saw Graybeard Liang plunging to his death in his mind's eye again.

Laden with guilt, the young man halted, unable to steel his heart to take yet another life.

By now, the Venom had started to slow down, and he soon came to a complete stop. He held the inverted position for some time before flipping upright in a half somersault. Drawing himself up to his full height, he walked back the way he had come—on his feet, this time—gazing straight ahead.

Guo Jing tiptoed after the Martial Great, burning with curiosity.

4

Guo Jing followed Viper Ouyang up a verdant slope to a slate ridge, where the Venom stopped at the mouth of a cave and spoke in a gruff tone. "Hahoramanpayas sinajaya sagara. Your interpretation of this line is wrong. It doesn't work in practice."

Sheltering behind a boulder, Guo Jing was astonished to hear him quoting from the final passage of the Nine Yin Manual. He recalled how he had set down this portion of the text without altering a single character because Count Seven Hong feared that the Venom might be able to understand the mysterious language it was written in.

Who was he talking to?

A light, melodious voice drifted from the cave. "My interpretation isn't the problem. It's you. Your kung fu isn't up to the task. No wonder you failed."

Lotus!

Guo Jing nearly cried out her name. The very person he had mourned night and day for months. How did she survive the swamp? Am I dreaming? Is this an illusion? Am I so maddened by grief that I'm hearing voices?

Viper's harsh tones cut through the storm of questions in Guo Jing's head.

"I tried what you described. There can't be any mistake on my part, but the flow in the Conception Vessel and the Yang Link Meridian won't reverse."

"Force is futile in kung fu when you haven't reached the necessary level."

That is Lotus's voice! There's no doubt about it, Guo Jing told himself, trembling with excitement. Light-headed and overjoyed, he had somehow torn open the bite wound in his agitation and blood was seeping from the bandage, but the pain did not bother him in the slightest.

"The Contest begins at midday tomorrow. I don't have time for this. Explain the rest of the passage now!"

Guo Jing now understood why Viper Ouyang had risked practicing neigong in the open earlier without taking any of the usual precautions.

A peal of laughter beat back the Martial Great's wrath. "Have you forgotten your pact with my Guo Jing? He promised to spare your life three times—on the condition that it would be up to me whether or not I was willing to teach you."

An indescribable warmth spread through the young man's heart at the sound of his beloved's voice uttering the words "my Guo Jing." He wanted to jump up and shout at the top of his lungs to let out the euphoria inside.

"We may have an agreement, but the situation changes things." Viper dropped the stones he had held in his hands while he was walking upside down and strode into the cave.

"Have you no shame? I won't tell you anything!"

"We shall see…"

A wild cackle, followed by a scream and the sound of fabric ripping.

Guo Jing rushed into the cave, holding his left palm before him in defense. Once more, he acted out of instinct. There was no time to consider the moral implications of using his kung fu.

"Lotus, I'm here!"

The fingers of Viper's left hand were wrapped around the end of the Dog-Beating Cane, while his right hand reached for Lotus's shoulder. She thrust the bamboo stick forward and it slid out of the Venom's grasp at an angle.

Flick the Mangy Dog Away, a move from the Dog-Beating repertoire, known only to the Chief of the Beggar Clan.

The Venom applauded the nimble maneuver, but, now that Guo Jing was here, he knew he could not continue to coerce Lotus into sharing her knowledge. After all, he was a grandmaster of the martial arts, and it was not befitting for a man of his status to be caught breaking his word. The last thing he needed was to be grilled by the boy over his failure to honor their pact. He shook out his sleeve with a wave of his arm to hide his burning cheeks and shot out of the cave, disappearing down the slope in the blink of an eye.

Quivering with joy, Guo Jing hurried over to Lotus and clasped her hands between his. "I've missed you so much!"

She pulled away and shot him a black look. "Who are you? Why do you take my hands?"

"I—I am Guo Jing … You—"

"I don't know who you are." She cut him off and stalked out of the cave.

Guo Jing hastened after her, bowing as he spoke: "Lotus! Lotus! Hear me out!"

"Huh! Who are you to me? How dare you address me by my given name!"

Guo Jing opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out.

Lotus stole a glance at him. She had never seen him so haggard and withered, and a pang of pity hit her. But as she recalled how he had chosen time and again to turn his back on her—and their future together—she felt her heart harden and she walked away with a pah!

Panicking, Guo Jing caught her flowing sleeve to hold her back. "Allow me to say one thing," he begged in a faltering voice.

"Go on."

"When I found your golden hair band and your sable coat in the swamp, I thought you—"

"There, you've said your one thing." She pulled the fabric out of his grasp and headed down the crest to find the way to the summit.

Guo Jing found himself in a familiar bind. He was desperate to explain himself, but he did not know how to put all that he had been feeling into words, and he could see that Lotus was determined to cut all ties with him. Fearing that, if he let her out of his sight, he would never see her again, he trailed after her in silence.

Lotus marched away in agitation, her robe fluttering in the wind. This unplanned reunion was stirring up memories and feelings from the past few months that she would rather forget. The great dangers she had faced, casting off her golden hair band, her pearl brooch and her sable coat in the marsh to throw Viper Ouyang off her trail. The misery of traveling thousands of li eastward on her own, without any company, then falling grievous sick in Shandong, when all she wanted was to be home with her father on Peach Blossom Island. The bitter reality of being bedridden, with nothing to occupy her but thoughts of how faithless and heartless Guo Jing had been, and how she wished her parents had not brought her into this world and exposed her to such anguish. And the despair when Viper Ouyang captured her in southern Shandong and dragged her along to Mount Hua so she could explain the Nine Yin Manual.

These unpleasant ghosts of the recent past shadowed Lotus as she picked her way along the dangerous pass, as did the light scuffle of Guo Jing's footsteps. She sped up, only to hear him pick up his pace; the opposite happened when she slowed down. Losing patience with him, she whipped around and snapped, "Why are you following me?"

"I will follow you always. I will never leave you again this lifetime."

Lotus responded with a sneer. "Why would the Prince of the Golden Blade, the son-in-law of the great Genghis Khan, wish to follow this poor nobody?"

"How could I have anything more to do with that man when he caused the death of my mother?"

Guo Jing's reply made Lotus flush red with fury. "There I was thinking you hadn't forgotten about me entirely, but it turns out you only came looking for me because you've been kicked out by Genghis Khan. Now that you're neither a prince nor the conqueror's son-in-law, you remember this poor nobody. Do you think I'm so base and low that I'm happy to be at your beck and call when you need me, and cast aside when you don't?" Tears of anger rolled down her cheeks.

The sight of her crying sent Guo Jing into a blind panic. He wanted to explain himself, he wanted to say something to comfort her, but no words would come to him. He stood there, mouth agape, until he eventually managed to say, "Do what you want with me. Hit me. Kill me. I'm right here, Lotus."

"Why would I want to do that?" she said feebly, heartsick. "Can't you pretend we've never met?… I beg you. Stop following me."

All color drained from Guo Jing's face. "Tell me how I can convince you that I am true of heart."

"You'll make up with me today, but, when Princess Khojin turns up tomorrow, you'll cast me to the back of your mind. Nothing you do or say will convince me that you'll be constant. Unless you're dead, maybe."

Hot blood surged in Guo Jing's chest. Nodding at her words, he strode toward the brink. They had reached one of the most perilous sections of Mount Hua, known as the Cliff of Sacrifice. To leap from here would break every bone in his body. Seeing that he was taking her words literally, in his usual pig-headed way, she lunged, grabbing the back of his robe to hoist herself up. With a tap of her foot on his shoulder, she propelled herself over his head and landed between him and the precipice.

"I know you don't care for me! Now you won't even let a few words said in anger pass. I'll say this once—you don't have to upset me like this. Just don't ever come near me again."

Lotus was visibly shaking, her face white as snow. Perched on the very brink above the jagged rocks below, she resembled a white camellia shivering in a storm.

Guo Jing was ready to jump, but, seeing Lotus balancing so precariously, he stepped back. "Don't stand so close to the edge."

His apparent concern made Lotus's heart ache. "Who wants your false words and false feelings?" she hissed. "When I was alone and sick in Shandong, why didn't you come to see me? When I failed to shake off the pesky Old Toad, why didn't you come to rescue me? My ma didn't want to have anything to do with me. She passed on from this world, leaving me behind. My pa doesn't want me—he never bothered to look for me. And you don't want me either! No one in this world wants me. No one cares for me!" She stamped her foot and sobbed helplessly, the bitter heartbreak and disillusion built up over the past year pouring out with her tears.

Guo Jing agreed with every statement she had made. In fact, he despised himself more with each word wrung from her shivering frame. As Lotus braced herself against a sudden gust of wind, he took off his outer robe, but, before he could wrap it around her, he heard a familiar voice.

"Who's making our Miss Huang cry?"

A man with flowing hair and a beard to match appeared next to them, but Guo Jing did not spare the newcomer a single glance.

Still in a foul mood, Lotus greeted him sharply. "Hoary Urchin!" she snapped. "I sent you to kill Qiu Qianren. Have you brought me his head?"

"Good Miss Huang, tell me who upset you?" Zhou Botong asked, trying to divert her attention from his failed mission. "The Urchin will make them pay."

"Him." She jabbed her finger at Guo Jing. Keen to ingratiate himself, Zhou Botong boxed his sworn brother about the ears without giving the young man any warning.

The smacks landed loudly on Guo Jing's cheeks, almost knocking the light from his eyes. He was so consumed by Lotus's presence that he had failed to see the attack coming.

"Dear Miss Huang, was that enough? If not, I'll cuff him a few more times."

Lotus's fury melted away at the sight of the fiery, hand-shaped marks on each side of Guo Jing's face. She felt a spark of rekindled tenderness, but it was short-lived, quickly consumed by an overwhelming displeasure that found an easy target in Zhou Botong.

"I'm upset with him. What's that got to do with you? Who says you can beat him up? I sent you to kill Qiu Qianren. Why haven't you done so?"

Zhou Botong stuck out his tongue and sighed. That kiss on the arse had fallen woefully wide of the mark. He had no wish to face Lotus's ire any longer than was necessary, and, while he turned over in his head excuses to slip away, he heard the clash of weapons, along with faint shouting, coming from somewhere behind them.

"Hark! It must be Qiu Qianren. I'll finish him off," he cried, hotfooting it in the direction of the distant commotion.

IF QIU Qianren had been responsible for the muted clamor from afar, Zhou Botong would in fact have bolted in the opposite direction. After Guo Jing had at last managed to extricate himself from the scuffle in the deserted village in the Western Regions, Viper Ouyang too had abandoned the fight, leaving Qiu Qianren alone to deal with Zhou Botong's harassment.

As the leader of one of the largest martial groups in the wulin, Qiu Qianren knew he would not live down the humiliation of being captured by the Hoary Urchin, but he was worn out physically and mentally by his attempts to evade him. He resigned himself to the harsh truth that he would have to take desperate measures to preserve his dignity and free himself from the ordeal. Catching a glimpse of several venomous snakes coiled up together in the sand, he recognized that they were an extremely deadly species. One bite would be enough, and, as it would also numb the body, it would be among the least painful ways to die. He reached out and pinched one of the serpents seven inches below its head, snatching it up.

"Zhou Botong, you've won!" he cried, aiming the fangs at his wrist, ready to end his life.

But, the instant the Urchin made out the scaly creature held between Qiu's fingers, he let out a yelp and scurried away.

It was a short while before Qiu Qianren realized that the exaggerated reaction was brought about by the snake—and that the tables had been decisively turned. He armed himself with a second serpent and raced after his tormentor, yelling to catch his attention.

Zhou Botong, convinced that his organs were about to burst open from fright, ran as fast as his legs would allow. As it happened, Qiu Qianren's lightness kung fu was more advanced than that of his erstwhile pursuer—after all, it was the reason he was honored in the wulin as the Iron Palm Water Glider. He could easily have overtaken the Urchin, but he was still wary of him after suffering at his hands for so long. And so, one fled and the other gave chase, and the game continued until the sky grew dark. In the failing light, Zhou Botong managed to lose his tail, but, in fact, Qiu had allowed him to escape so he could make his own retreat.

The next day, Zhou Botong stole a fine horse and galloped east, hoping to shake Qiu Qianren off once and for all.

LOTUS'S EYES followed Zhou Botong as he scuttled away, then her gaze shifted to Guo Jing. After a while, she glanced down at her feet and sighed.

"Lotus."

"Mm."

Catching her barely perceptible response, Guo Jing readied himself to apologize once more and beg her forgiveness, but he knew how inarticulate he was and he could not risk angering her further by saying the wrong thing. So, they just stood looking each other on the exposed crag, while the wind blew about them. The sound of Lotus sneezing reminded Guo Jing that he had been about to put his robe around her. She accepted the garment without resistance nor any acknowledgment, her head bowed, not favoring him with so much as a glance.

Merry chortles interrupted their awkward standoff. Zhou Botong's voice could be heard again, crying, "Marvelous! Marvelous!"

Lotus took Guo Jing's hand and said softly, "Let's see what's going on."

The young man burst into joyful tears, too relieved to muster a reply.

Chuckling, Lotus dabbed his eyes with her sleeve. "Look at yourself. People will think you're crying because I slapped you."

"Nothing would make me happier."

She flashed him a radiant smile.

The young lovers had finally set aside their differences. Hand in hand, they headed away from the precipice. It did not take them long to find Zhou Botong. He was lounging on a boulder, his hands resting on his belly and his foot on his knee, looking distinctly pleased with himself. Qiu Chuji stood beside him, gripping the hilt of his sword. Hector Sha, Tiger Peng, Lama Supreme Wisdom and Browbeater Hou were present too, and the four of them were all in the process of launching an offensive with their weapons or shrinking away from an attack. They each maintained a different posture, but the one thing they had in common was that they were all frozen stiff, as though carved of wood or shaped from clay. The Hoary Urchin had locked their movements via their acupoints.

"Huh! Last time you smelly vagabonds fell into my hands, you stopped listening to me when you realized my little balls of grime weren't deadly poison. Well, well, let's see how defiant you are today." Zhou Botong had not yet decided how to deal with them, but he knew Lotus would be full of ideas. "Good Miss Huang, I present these stinking thieves to you," he said, hailing the new arrivals.

"What am I supposed to do with them?" She eyed the capricious man. "So … you don't want to kill them, but you don't want to let them go either, am I right? And you're not sure how to keep them in line. Now, if you call me Big Sister three times, I'll tell you what to do."

The Hoary Urchin did as he was asked, accompanying two cries of "Big Sister!" with a bow, before choosing to finish with a flourish, exclaiming, "Dear Auntie!"

Tickled to be addressed as an elder by her senior, Lotus pointed at Tiger Peng, struggling to supress a smile. "Search him."

Zhou Botong found Peng's secret weapon, a ring studded with pins laced with venom, along with two small bottles of antidote.

"He pricked and poisoned your martial nephew Ma Yu with that. You should do the same to him."

Tiger Peng and his fellows might have been immobilized, but there was nothing wrong with their hearing. Lotus's words sent their frightened spirits flying out of their bodies, and, the next thing they knew, they were being stung repeatedly by the toxic ring.

"Now they'll do anything you tell them to. Just make sure you don't lose the antidote."

Chuckling, the Urchin cocked his head to one side and wondered what other tricks he could pull on the four men. He scratched around his body, harvesting a good deal of detritus, which he mixed with the antidote and rubbed into little balls. These he stuffed back into the bottles, which he then handed to Qiu Chuji.

"Take these scoundrels back to the Zhongnan Mountains and lock them up in the Chongyang Temple for twenty years. If they behave themselves on the way there, you can give them one of these miraculous pills. If they don't, give them another taste of their own poison—no need to be merciful."

Qiu Chuji bowed, accepting the task.

"Well said, Old Urchin." Lotus flashed him a broad grin. "You've really come along, this past year!"

Puffed up by her praise, Zhou Botong released the men's vital points. "Off you go to Chongyang Temple. If you change your ways in good faith, maybe you'll become men, after all. But, if you don't do as you're told…" He sniggered. "We Quanzhen monks kill without batting an eye and tear out flesh without creasing our brows. We'll neutralize the poison in your body, then cut you up to make meatballs. Enough to feed the whole monastery. Then we'll see if you can still get up to mischief!"

The captured men vowed to be good. Stifling a smile, Qiu Chuji took his leave, escorting the four rogues down Mount Hua with his sword in his hand.

Lotus chuckled. "When did you learn to scold like that? It started out promising, but then it just got ridiculous."

Zhou Botong threw his head back and laughed. In that moment, he caught from the corner of his eye a flash of white light from the peak to his left—sunlight reflecting off a fine blade.

"Oooh, what's that?"

Guo Jing and Lotus turned in the direction he was indicating, but they did not spot anything.

"I'll take a look," the Urchin said, charging full pelt uphill. He wanted to get away before Lotus could ask him about Qiu Qianren again.

Now that they were finally alone, the young couple could not wait to discuss all they had experienced in the time they were apart. They sat down at the entrance to a shallow cave and talked until the sun dipped behind the mountains to the west—and still they had more to share. Guo Jing took a dried flatbread from his knapsack and tore a piece off for Lotus.

"Remember the scrambled version of the Nine Yin Manual you set down for the Venom?" Lotus giggled as she chewed. "Following your good example, I've also been inventing interpretations for him. He lapped them up without ever doubting their veracity—he's been practicing earnestly for months. I told him that this advanced kung fu has to be cultivated upside down, and he followed my ramblings to the letter, walking around on his hands, forcing his qi to circulate in reverse. I have to give the Old Toad some credit, though—he's now able to flip the flow in the Yin Link, Yang Link, Yin Heel and Yang Heel meridians at will. I wonder what it would be like if he managed to invert every energy channel."

"So that's why he was walking on his hands just now. It can't be easy."

"Have you come to win the honor of the Greatest Martial Master Under the Heavens?" Lotus asked, after a brief silence.

"Don't make fun of me. I'm here to ask Brother Zhou to teach me how to unlearn my kung fu," Guo Jing said, and he outlined for her the issues that he had been contemplating of late.

Lotus tilted her head to one side, considering his words. "It probably is better to forget it all," she said with a sigh. "It's true that, as our martial prowess grows, we also become less happy, whereas, when we were young and knew nothing, we lived without a care in the world." Somehow, it did not occur to her that this was just the inevitable result of growing up, and had nothing to do with one's martial ability. She paused, then changed the subject. "Viper Ouyang said that the Contest starts tomorrow. Papa will surely be there. Since you're not taking part, we should help him claim the title."

"I don't ever want to say no to you, Lotus, but I do think our shifu deserves it more—for his compassion and his principles."

Lotus had been resting against Guo Jing, but now, vexed by his implied criticism of her father, she pushed him away. He was flustered by her sudden anger, but, when she spoke, there was a hint of laughter in her voice.

"Well, I can't deny that Shifu Hong has treated us well. How about we help no one?"

"Your papa and our shifu are both men of honor and virtue. They wouldn't want us plotting anything behind their backs."

"So I'm a conniving villain now, am I?" She fixed him with a stony glare.

"Forgive me!" he cried in panic. "I'm not good with words. I didn't mean to upset you."

"You're going to upset me again and again, in the years to come," she replied, trying to swallow a giggle.

Guo Jing looked at her and scratched his head, unable to catch her meaning.

"If you don't cast me aside again, we'll have plenty of time together, so who knows how many more silly things you'll say to me?"

Thrilled by her talk of a future together, he took her hands tenderly in his. "Why would I ever cast you aside?"

"It wouldn't be the first time. But I suppose you'll come running back to me when your Princess gets tired of you."

The joke cut Guo Jing to the quick, bringing to mind his mother's death. The moon had just risen, casting a silver glow on everything it touched. Lotus saw his expression and realized she had spoken out of turn.

"Let's not bring up the past anymore. I'm very happy being with you right now. You may kiss my cheek, if you'd like."

The young man blushed, but dared not accept the invitation. Lotus gave him an abashed smile and turned the conversation back to the Contest. "Who do you think will win tomorrow?"

"It's hard to say. Do you think Reverend Sole Light will take part?"

"Uncle Sole Light has left behind the troubles of this world. Surely he won't be competing for the title."

Guo Jing bobbed his head in agreement. "Your papa, Shifu Hong, Brother Zhou, Qiu Qianren and Viper Ouyang—they each have their signature skill to rely on. I wonder if Shifu has recovered or if his kung fu is still affected…" His concern for Count Seven was evident in his voice.

"The Hoary Urchin would be the strongest if he used techniques from the Nine Yin Manual, but he won't, and that leaves him the weakest of the five."

As the young lovers continued to talk—about the Contest and anything else that sprang to mind—Lotus began to feel drowsy, dozing off in Guo Jing's embrace. It was rare for her to remove the Hedgehog Chainmail, so she had developed a special way of leaning into him to save him from being pricked. She had not reclined like this for a long time, and it filled her heart with a contentment beyond description. Guo Jing too was feeling heavy-eyed, but soon the light scratching of footsteps jolted him awake.

5

A shadowy figure shot past the mouth of the cave, followed a moment later by another, their robes flapping behind them in a gale of their own making. Guo Jing immediately recognized Zhou Botong as the one on the run, thanks to his distinctive lightness qinggong, and, a moment later, he managed to place the man in pursuit … Qiu Qianren! The young man was mystified. The last time he had come across the two of them together, far out in the Western Regions, the leader of the Iron Palm Gang had been fleeing from Brother Zhou. How had they come to switch roles? He had no idea that Qiu had discovered the Hoary Urchin's fear of snakes.

He nudged Lotus and whispered in her ear, "Look!"

She lifted her head to see Zhou Botong scurrying around in the moonlight, casting fearful glances over his shoulder.

"Qiu, you old scoundrel!" he cried. "I've got lackeys here to catch your snakes. You'd better run, before it's too late!"

Qiu Qianren just laughed. "Do you take me for a gullible child?"

"Brother Guo! Miss Huang! Help me!"

Lotus held Guo Jing back, to keep him from rushing out to his sworn brother's aid, and said under her breath, "Don't move yet."

The Urchin was running in circles, yelling at the top of his lungs. "Stinking lad! Cruel wench! If you don't come out right away, I'll curse eighteen generations of your ancestors!"

Lotus stood up, laughing. "Go on, then. Curse my papa. See how far it gets you.

Qiu Qianren was holding a serpent in each hand. Zhou Botong felt his knees give way at the sight of their flickering tongues.

"Good Miss Huang, quickly! Quickly! I'll curse eighteen generations of my own ancestors if you help me now!"

With Guo Jing and Lotus poised to step in, Qiu Qianren knew he needed to make himself scarce before the three of them banded together against him. It would be best to lie low until noon the next day, when the Contest began, for he did not fear facing any of them in single combat. He tapped both feet against the ground and lunged forward, thrusting the snakes at Zhou Botong's face.

The Urchin flicked his sleeves to fend off the creatures and threw himself sideways. Just then, he heard a quiet rustling sound pass overhead, and, a moment later, something chilly landed on the nape of his neck. It wriggled into his collar and slid down his spine, squirming around in his clothes, slippery and slimy.

"I'm dead! I'm dead!" he shrieked, his terrified spirits taking flight.He dared not reach into his undershirt to remove the unwitting stowaway, so he ran in circles, jumped around and flipped back and forth. Suddenly, he froze. His body went numb and he flopped to the ground, convinced that the snake had sunk its fangs into his back.

Guo Jing and Lotus rushed over, fearing the worst. Qiu Qianren was mystified by Zhou Botong's fit, but it gave him a chance to sneak away. As he strained his eyes in the gloom to find the trail down the mountain, a dark profile emerged from the trees.

"Qiu Qianren, you won't get away this time."

The figure was silhouetted by the moon, its face shrouded in shadow. The guttural voice, cold as ice, was menacing enough to give even Qiu Qianren the shivers.

"Who are you?" he hissed.

The newcomer ignored his question and approached Zhou Botong, who was still curled up on the ground, convinced that he was bound for the netherworld.

"Master Zhou, have no fear. It's not a snake."

In his fuzzy state, Zhou Botong felt himself being lifted up. The voice startled him and he sprang to his feet, only to sense the cold-blooded creature writhing against his back.

"It bit me again! It's a snake. It's a snake!"

"It's a gold wah-wah. Not a snake."

By now, Guo Jing and Lotus were able to make out the man's features in the moonlight. It was the fisher, one of Reverend Sole Light's four disciples. Holding the Urchin steady, he reached inside his collar and pulled out the golden salamander. The fisher then explained that he had found a pair of the amphibians in a brook earlier and had been keeping them inside his robe. One had escaped and found its way up a tree, a few moments earlier, before falling on Zhou Botong. These creatures were not known to bite, but, if the fisher had appeared any later, the Hoary Urchin would likely have fainted from fright.

Somewhat calmer now, Zhou Botong parted his eyelids to take a peek at the fellow propping him up. He thought his deliverer looked familiar, but his wits were too scattered to allow him to place his face. Hearing footsteps, he turned toward the sound and was surprised to find Qiu Qianren stumbling back from a threatening presence. He peered at this approaching figure, and, once more, his soul and spirits took flight.

Consort Liu, from King Duan's palace in Dali!

UNTIL THIS moment, Qiu Qianren had been confident that the Contest was his to lose. Of all the heroes of the wulin likely to attend, he considered only Zhou Botong to be his martial superior. If his snakes could scare the volatile man into fleeing Mount Hua, he reasoned, then there would be no one left to stand in his way. He had never imagined that Madam Ying would be present. The sight of her brought back memories of the frenzied, reckless way she had attacked him on Blue Dragon Shoal—if this raving crone pounced on him now, the others would probably follow suit, and there was little chance of him coming out of the encounter alive.

"You killed my baby son!" the woman screeched.

The toddler's mother!… But how does she know it was me? I disguised myself in the uniform of an imperial guard and covered my face with a mask. Qiu Qianren was shaken. He had thought King Duan would sacrifice his training to save the life of his own child, leaving him with one fewer competitor to contend with for the Greatest Martial Master title, but the stony-hearted sovereign had thwarted his plan by refusing to heal the boy …

"Mad hag, I'm warning you…"

"Give me back my son!"

"What does it have to do with me?"

"I didn't see your face that night, but your laugh was seared into my memory. Go on, laugh! Let me hear it again!"

Qiu Qianren eyed Madam Ying's outstretched arms and edged two steps back. He remembered her acting like this on the barge, lunging at him and trying to lock him in her arms so she could take her savage revenge. He leaned a fraction to one side, held out his right palm and smacked his left against it. The impact sent his right hand flying at an angle into Madam Ying's lower abdomen. Yin and Yang Unite as One—one of the thirteen deadly moves of the Iron Palm repertoire.

Madam Ying thought she could dodge the ferocious attack using her Weatherfish Slip kung fu, but Qiu Qianren was too fast. Before she could even shift her footing, his palm was within half a chi of her belly. Realizing she might yet again fail to exact vengeance, she steeled herself to stomach the blow. She had in mind one last desperate gambit—to drag him over the brink. They would plunge to their deaths together. Just as she was readying herself to pounce and clamp her arms around him, a fist flew past her ear, stirring up a gust that lashed her face like a barbed whip. It forced Qiu Qianren to withdraw his lethal strike so his hands were free to deal with the new threat coming at his flank.

"Not you again, Hoary Urchin!" he growled.

For it was Zhou Botong who had stepped in, deploying a technique from the Nine Yin Manual to deflect Qiu's lethal Iron Palm strike. In doing so, he had been careful to position himself in such a way that he had his back to the woman and would not need to look her in the eye.

"You're no match for him. Get out of here! Go! I'm going too…" Zhou Botong forced the words out between gritted teeth, his body tense as he drew back, poised to bolt downhill, as far away from his old lover as possible.

"Zhou Botong, why won't you avenge your son?"

Stunned, Zhou froze on the spot. "What? I had a son?"

"Yes—Qiu Qianren killed our son."

Never in his wildest dreams had Zhou Botong imagined that their brief dalliance could have resulted in a child. He was struck dumb by the news, unsure how to respond to the revelations. Forgetting his opponent, he turned and saw a monk with the face of King Duan standing with his four disciples beside the woman he knew as Consort Liu.

Qiu Qianren, meanwhile, having spun away from Zhou Botong's attack, now found himself with his back less than three chi from the sheer drop. And before him stood a crowd that wanted him dead. The martial Master had never been in a more precarious situation. His only hope was to talk his way out of it. He clapped his hands together and put on a show of bombast: "I came to Mount Hua to fight for the title of the Greatest Martial Master Under the Heavens, and yet you are conspiring together to eliminate me on the eve of the Contest. Who would have thought that such exulted heroes of the wulin would resort to so base a scheme?"

Zhou Botong could not dispute his logic. "As you wish. I will take your life after the Contest instead."

"I will not wait another day!" Madam Ying hissed.

Lotus was also vexed by his concession. "Old Urchin, we keep faith with those who keep faith, and we punish those who break it. We all have a reason to fight him—he can have no complaints."

The blood drained from Qiu Qianren's face. He was surely doomed. But he had one last trick up his sleeve. "On what grounds are you calling for my death?" he asked, fixing his gaze on each of them in turn.

It was the scholar, Reverend Sole Light's disciple, who answered. "The evil deeds you have committed are reason enough."

Qiu Qianren threw his head back and let out a grating laugh. "When it comes to martial prowess, I cannot stand against your superior numbers, but, when we speak of good and evil, let one who among you has never killed nor done wrong come forth. I shall bare my neck and accept my fate like a man."

Letting out a sigh, Sole Light was the first to step back. He sat cross-legged on the ground, with his head bowed. The rest stood in silence, thinking about the times they had erred. Not one of them had an answer for Qiu Qianren's challenge.

The monk's four disciples—the fisher, the logger, the farmer and the scholar—had ordered the deaths of numerous individuals when they served the Kingdom of Dali. Although they had adhered to the principles of justice during the proceedings, they could not rule out the possibility that mistakes had been made and innocent men condemned. Zhou Botong and Madam Ying exchanged glances; neither could shed the lingering guilt over what had happened between them. Guo Jing had slain many on the battlefield during the Khwarazm campaign, and he had been reproaching himself for it ever since. As for Lotus, she recalled the many worries she had subjected her father to in recent years, and regretted her deeply unfilial behavior. Then there were those she had cheated, deceived, swindled and tricked—more than she could count.

Qiu Qianren had not dared to hope that his plan would work so well. His foes were all bereft of speech, too shamed by their own misdeeds to raise a hand against him. He strode toward Guo Jing, and the young man turned aside and stepped out of his way. Qiu Qianren picked up his pace to put as much distance as possible between them, only for a switch of bamboo to come flying at him from a cluster of rocks, whacking him in the face.

So swift and sudden was this makeshift weapon that, in the split second it took Qiu Qianren to raise his left palm and twirl his wrist to try to push it aside, it jolted out of reach, returning just as quickly to threaten three major vital points on his chest. The bamboo stick continued to whip into Qiu Qianren like a storm, impossible to block or avoid, forcing him to withdraw to the very edge of the cliff. And now its master emerged from his craggy hideout.

"Shifu!" Guo Jing and Lotus cried at the same time.

Count Seven Hong, the Divine Vagrant Nine Fingers.

"You stinking beggar," Qiu Qianren said, glowering. "Have you come to pass sentence on me too? There's still a day to go before the Contest."

"I'm here to rid the world of evil. Not to compare kung fu."

"Oh, indeed, great hero. Here stands your villain. But who are you to take my life? Can you claim to be innocent of all wrongdoing?"

"Aye! This Old Beggar has taken two hundred and thirty-one lives to date, and they were all miscreants. Corrupt officials, local tyrants, double-crossers, oath breakers. The Beggar Clan investigated each one thoroughly, gathering evidence, and each case was scrutinized twice over to ensure no one was wronged and there were no miscarriages of justice. Only then would I execute the trespasser. I might be a glutton and a buffoon, and sometimes a little muddled-headed when it comes to details, but I have never killed a person that did not deserve their fate. Qiu Qianren, you will be number two hundred and thirty-two!"

Count Seven Hong's tirade had left Qiu Qianren speechless, and now the Divine Vagrant proceeded to list the man's crimes.

"Qiu Qianren, your shifu Shangguan Jiannan was a great hero, a true patriot, a man of integrity who devoted his entire life to serving his country. And yet, when you inherited the leadership of the Iron Palm Gang, you consorted with the Jurchen invaders and betrayed your homeland. How will you face your shifu when you leave this life behind?

"You have come to Mount Hua to fight for the greatest honor the wulin can bestow. Huh! For shame! Even if you prove to be more skilled than each and every one of us, no hero under the heavens will ever crown a traitor."

Qiu Qianren was dumbstruck by the Beggar's fierce castigation. Memories from the past decades gushed forth into his mind. He thought of the principles and morals his shifu had tried to instill in him. He could hear his shifu's last words and final biddings from his deathbed, as he passed on the maxims and rules of the Iron Palm Gang to the man he was entrusting with its leadership. He recalled his shifu's exhortations to act in the best interests of their country and their people, and remembered his explanation for the Gang's name. It was not just the name of a kung fu technique. It was a reminder to its members that they should root out evil with an iron will and strike down wickedness with a firm and steady hand. Qiu at last realized how, as he had aged and his martial skills had developed, he had strayed further and further from the tenets of the Iron Palm Gang—to serve the country with loyalty, to destroy the country's enemies and to reclaim the country's lost lands. He could see that he had sunk lower and lower, accepting followers that were increasingly vulgar and morally wanting, to the point that the few remaining upstanding members distanced themselves from the group. The Iron Palm Gang had become a cohort of outlaws, traitors and wrongdoers undertaking cruel deeds at the bidding of corrupt men.

Qiu Qianren looked up at the bright moon overhead. Pinned in place by Count Seven's blazing glare, he knew he had been acting contrary to the demands of honor and dignity for most of his life. A cold sweat of shame and regret covered his skin.

"Chief Hong, thank you for your admonition." And, with those words, Qiu Qianren turned and leaped from the precipice.

Count Seven Hong had been expecting Qiu to lash out to silence him, and had been holding the bamboo cane in readiness, for any blow was likely to be deadly. It had not occurred to him that the proud man would be driven to suicide by remorse. Before the Beggar could react, a gray shadow swooped in and a hand shot out. Sole Light was now right on the brink, still sitting in the same position with his legs crossed, but he had one arm curled around Qiu Qianren's shins, pulling him back.

"Sadhu, sadhu! Boundless is the bitter sea, look behind you for the shore," the monk said. "Since you rue your past ills, it is not too late to be a new man."

Qiu Qianren knelt before the former King of Dali. There were a thousand things he wanted to say, but it was all lost in a wail of anguish and a flood of tears.

Watching the broken, sobbing man, Madam Ying saw her chance and removed a sharp dagger from the inside pocket of her robe.

"No!" Zhou Botong put his hand over her wrist to forestall her attack.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Zhou Botong had been trembling with fear ever since he had set eyes on the woman, and, hearing her snap at him, all he could think of was to run away. Yelping, he flew down the mountain.

"Where are you going?" Madam Ying shouted, giving chase.

"My tummy hurts. I need to go!"

His answer stopped her in her tracks, but she soon resumed the pursuit, sprinting at her fastest pace.

"Aiyooo!" the Hoary Urchin yelled, terrified. "Don't come any closer! I've soiled myself. It stinks!"

But Madam Ying had been searching for this man for twenty years, and she knew, if he slipped away this time, she would likely never see him again. What did she care if he had emptied his bowels? In fact, Zhou Botong had lied about the bad stomach, hoping to scare her into keeping her distance so he could get away. Shrieking as he ran, he suddenly realized his trousers were weighed down, after all, the fabric sticking to his legs, warm and wet.

Guo Jing and Lotus watched the odd couple disappear around a rocky bend and exchanged wry smiles. They turned to see Reverend Sole Light speaking under his breath to Qiu Qianren, as the penitent man nodded earnestly along to what he was being told.

The monk continued to impart his wisdom for a long time, before at last standing up. "Let's go," he said.

The young lovers stepped forward to bow to the Martial Great, then inclined their heads toward his four disciples.

With a kindly smile, Sole Light placed one hand on Guo Jing's head and the other on Lotus's. "Brother Seven, it gives me great joy to see you so hale and hearty. And I must congratulate you on accepting such a brilliant pair of disciples."

Bowing, the Beggar returned the courtesy. "I am happy to see the Reverend in good health. Thank you for saving the lives of these two little ones."

"Water runs far in mountains tall, our paths shall cross again." The monk touched his palms together in a Buddhist gesture of respect, then set off downhill.

"Are you leaving now? The Contest is tomorrow."

Sole Light looked back at Count Seven Hong with a smile. "This old monk leads a simple life, unfettered by worldly trappings. It is not my place to contend with the foremost heroes under the heavens. I came to resolve the wrongs and entanglements that have tied us down for so long, and, thanks be to good fortune, I have succeeded. But, Brother Seven, you deserve the honor. Who in this world can compare to you? There is no need to be humble." He made another obeisance, took Qiu Qianren by the hand and resumed his descent. His four disciples bent low in deference and followed their Master.

As the scholar walked past Lotus, he noticed the color in her cheeks and the joyful spark in her eyes, and recited with a smile:

"In the damp lowlands are carambola trees,

Supple and luxuriant are their branches."

Catching the joke made at her expense, Lotus also replied in verse:

"Chickens rest in the roost in the wall,

The day has reached eventide."

Laughing heartily, the scholar put his hands together to take his leave.

"Lotus, what was that about?" Guo Jing could not make head nor tail of the exchange.

"Quotes from The Book of Songs."

"Oh." Knowing nothing about poetry, Guo Jing chose not to pursue that line of conversation.

Lotus noted his reaction with a smile. Chancellor Zhu is indeed perceptive, she said to herself. He has seen clearly into my heart and cited this poem because it is known to be a love song about a young woman's feelings for her unmarried sweetheart. The final line of each stanza is especially apt:

In delight, envy your wanting for awareness.

In delight, envy your wanting for kindred.

In delight, envy your wanting for household.

They do suit Guo Jing—a headstrong and artless boy, without the ties of kin or the bonds of marriage. It does work well …

"Oh no!" Lotus suddenly cried out loud.

"What is it?"

"I just thought of the next lines of the poem I quoted." She gave a sheepish grin.

"Goats and oxen come down the hill.

Goats and oxen make their way home.

"I wanted to call Chancellor Zhu a four-legged beast, but I now realize I included Uncle Sole Light in the insult … and that's terribly rude of me!"

The convoluted jibe did not interest Guo Jing, so he cast his mind back to what Count Seven Hong had said when reprimanding Qiu Qianren. He sensed that the Beggar's words could help him to at last untangle the jumble of questions that had been troubling him.

Shifu said he had killed two hundred and thirty-one trespassers, each of them a villain, Guo Jing reminded himself. Because Shifu's conscience is clear, when he chastised Qiu Qianren, he exuded a might that could not be challenged, even though their martial skills are on a par. Qiu Qianren's malevolent heart could not withstand the force of justice that Shifu embodies. And I can aspire to be like Shifu—I can use my kung fu to do good, to uphold righteousness. I don't have to discard what I've learned.

In fact, Qiu Chuji had tried to explain this same simple truth to Guo Jing, but his words did not carry the same weight as Count Seven Hong's, and the barbaric massacres of the Khwarazm campaign and his mother's suicide had been too fresh in the boy's mind. Applying Count Seven's remarks to the questions he had been grappling with, Guo Jing at last found some measure of peace, secure in his belief that he should follow in his shifu's footsteps.

Guo Jing and Lotus approached Count Seven and paid their respects with a bow. After they had parted in Jiaxing, the Beggar had followed Apothecary Huang back to Peach Blossom Island to recuperate from the internal injuries he had suffered at Viper Ouyang's hands. Thanks to the isolated location and the Heretic's help, he was able to use the advanced neigong technique outlined in the final passage of the Nine Yin Manual to reconnect the flow of energy along his meridians, and, within half a year, he had fully recovered. It took just another six months for him to fully regain his martial ability. Apothecary Huang had returned to the mainland once Count Seven's condition was stable, traveling north in search of Lotus, but the Beggar had only recently left the island. He had since met with Surefoot Lu, who told him all about Guo Jing and Lotus's adventures.

After they had heard each other's news, Guo Jing said, "Shifu, you should rest—it's nearly dawn. The Contest will be starting soon, and it will be exhausting."

"Believe it or not, I've grown more competitive with age," Count Seven said with a chuckle. "My heart pounds with excitement at the thought of sparring with the Heretic of the East and the Venom of the West. Lotus, did you know that your papa has made great progress in recent years? Who do you think will emerge victorious from our duel?"

"You and Papa have always been evenly matched, but, now that you know the secret method from the Nine Yin Manual, Papa won't be able to beat you. When we see him, I'll tell him to withdraw, so we can go back to Peach Blossom Island sooner."

Discerning her true meaning from her tone, Count Seven let out a belly laugh. "There's no need to worry, lass. I won't be using the techniques from the Manual. This Old Beggar has his principles. I won't fight with anything that isn't rightfully mine. I'll only use my own kung fu when I face Old Heretic Huang."

This was exactly what Lotus had hoped he would say. "Shifu, don't be upset if you can't beat Papa. I'll make it up to you by cooking a hundred different dishes—including some new ones that I've just invented. Whether you win or lose, you'll be just as happy."

The gourmand's mouth watered at the prospect, but he still feigned disapproval. "This girl has a black heart. First you provoke me, now you try to bribe me. You just want your papa to win!"

Grinning broadly, Lotus was about to argue back when Count Seven Hong shot to his feet, his eyes fixed on something behind her. "Old Venom, you're early!"

Guo Jing and Lotus scrambled up to stand beside their shifu and saw Viper Ouyang's towering form standing right where they had been sitting. They were shocked that they had not detected his arrival, so light and soundless was his approach.