Qigong shook his head while sighing. “Like a bull chewing on peonies! What a shame! What a shame!” Huang Rong put a hand in front of her mouth to stop herself from laughing.
“Bulls... do they like peonies?” Guo Jing asked himself. “There are many bulls in Mongolia but no peonies; indeed I have never seen bulls eating peonies. But why does he keep saying ‘What a shame’?”
Qigong patted his stomach and said, “Good. You are both practitioners of martial arts; I saw that right away. The little one that went to so much trouble to prepare such exquisite dishes for me certainly has a devious motive, such as, persuading me to give you some instruction. Is that not correct? Good, I recognize that after having eaten so well, it would be inconsiderate of me to leave without giving something in return. Come, come with me!” He took up his gourd and bamboo cane, and went out.
Guo Jing and Huang Rong followed until they were outside of town. “What do you want to learn?”
Qigong demanded of Guo Jing.
“Martial arts are so varied,” said the young man to himself, “if I want to learn something, how is he so sure that he'll be able to teach it to me?”
While he reflected, Huang Rong had begun to speak’ “Qigong, his kung fu is inferior to mine so he gets angry often because he's always trying to best me.”
“When did I get angry?” Guo Jing protested. Huang Rong glanced at him, telling him to be quiet.
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“For my part,” Hong Qigong said while laughing, “I have the impression that all his movements are firm and assured; that means that he has a good basis of neigong. How would he be inferior to you?
Why don't you two match skills a little?"
Huang Rong moved aside some steps and called, “Jing’Ge ge, come on!" Guo Jing hesitated.
“If you don't show what you're capable of,” Huang Rong said, “how do you expect this Elder to correct you? Get ready!” She jumped at him and attacked with a palm stroke; Guo Jing blocked the blow, but she already had changed tactics, and attacked with a kick.
“Well done, little one!” Qigong said. “Pretty move!”
“Fight seriously,” Huang Rong advised in a low voice.
Guo Jing concentrated and executed conscientiously the powerful ‘Southern Mountain Palm’ taught by Nan Xiren. Huang Rong defended herself nimbly, jumping upwards and back. Then suddenly, she modified her technique and executed the ‘Peach Blossom Island Divine Sword Palm’ technique, created by her father. This palm technique resembled its name, ‘Divine Sword’, for it was adapted from a sword technique. She moved her arms in all directions; her opponent was encircled by the palm shadows, unable to determine if they were feigned or real. It was as though the wind had arisen in the woods dropping a thousand flowers. The beauty of the gestures resided in their lightness and their aerial grace; so well that Huang Rong resembled a butterfly taking flight. Since her neigong lacked power, her blows were not as violent and as terrifying as they should have been.
It mattered little, for Guo Jing, stunned by the multiplicity of the shadows in front of his eyes, had lost all means to resist. In some seconds, he received four palm blows, on the shoulders, on the chest and on the back. He was not injured, since Huang Rong had not struck with force. She stepped back with a smile.
“Well done, Rong’er!” Guo Jing exclaimed with genuine admiration. “What a beautiful palm demonstration!”
“Your father is so powerful,” Hong said in an icy voice. “Why do you want me to give lessons to this simple-minded one?”
Huang Rong was startled. “According to Father,” she said to herself, “since he created this ‘‘Peach Blossom Island Divine Sword Palm’, he has not ever used it himself; how did this Elder recognized it?” “Qigong,” she demanded, “you know my father?”
“Indeed, he is the ‘Eastern Heretic’ and I, the ‘Northern Beggar’; don't you think that we had occasion to match skills?”
“He matched blows with Father,” Huang Rong said to herself, “and managed to survive; that's really astonishing. Now I understand how the ‘Northern Beggar’ can be ranked alongside the ‘Eastern Heretic’!”
“And how did you recognize me?” she demanded again.
“Just look at yourself in a mirror!” Hong replied. “Your nose and your eyes, are they not as those of your father? At first, I did not think about that; I only felt that your face appeared familiar to me, but your demonstration revealed everything! Do you believe that this old beggar does not recognize the 338
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kung fu of Peach Blossom Island? Even if I never had seen this palm, I would not doubt that a crafty fellow such as your dad would have been able to invent it. Heh…heh...and the names of your two dishes, what were they? ‘Plum Flowers Fall at the Jade Flute's Song’, and the ‘Soup of Good Company’; it was doubtless your dad that invented them.”
“You really can read minds,” Huang Rong said, laughing. “Then, according to you, my dad is very strong, isn't that right?”
“Of course he is powerful,” Qigong said coldly, “but he is not the most powerful in the entire world!”
“Then, surely you're the most powerful in this world?” Huang Rong exclaimed while applauding.
“Not necessarily,” Qigong said. “Twenty years ago, all five of us, ‘Eastern Heretic’, ‘Western Venom’, ‘Southern Emperor’, ‘Northern Beggar’ and ‘Central Divinity’, met at the summit of Huashan (Mount Hua), to match ourselves. The confrontation lasted seven days and seven nights.
Finally, ‘Central Divinity’ revealed himself to be the most powerful, and we all gladly recognized it.”
“Who then is this ‘Central Divinity’?” asked Huang Rong.
“Your father never told you?”
“No. Father said that, in the martial arts world, there are more bad things than good and that there was no point for girls from good families to hear bout it. He scolded me very fiercely; he didn't love me anymore so I ran away. He doesn't want anything to do with me...” With a sad face, she lowered her head.
“That old monster!” Qigong swore. “What ...!”
“I won't allow you to insult my father!” Huang Rong exclaimed.
“What a pity that I was always too poor!” Qigong exclaimed, laughing. “No one ever wanted to marry me! Otherwise, I would have had a kind girl like you, and never would I have left you...”
“Indeed!” Huang Rong said, laughing. “If I leave, what will you do for food?”
“Fair enough!” Qigong agreed with a sigh. “Well, to answer your question, the ‘Central Divinity’ is Wang Chongyang, founder of the Quanzhen Sect. But, since his death, it's difficult to say who's the world's most powerful.”
“The Quanzhen Sect?” Huang Rong said. “There is a fellow called Qiu, another called Wang, and yet another named Ma. They are all cow-nosed Taoist priests. I found their kung fu rather pathetic!
When they fought, they were either poisoned or injured in two or three stances.”
“Ah yes? They were doubtless disciples of Wang Chongyang. It seems that, among his seven disciples, Qiu Chuji is the most powerful... But, it is certain that they are not even close to their martial uncle, Zhou Botong.” Upon hearing this name, Huang Rong was startled; she was about to say something, then stopped herself.
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Guo Jing, who had been content to listen to their conversation, interrupted, “It's true, Master Ma said that they had a martial uncle, but he did not mention the name of this Taoist master.”
“Zhou Botong is not a Taoist,” Hong Qigong replied. “He is a secular person, who was personally taught by his martial brother, Wang Chongyang... Eh, I say, my simple-minded one, you seem rather clumsy to me! Does your father-in-law, so fine and so crafty, really appreciate you?” Guo Jing, who didn’t think he had a ‘father-in-law’, spluttered, not knowing how to reply.
“My father has yet to see him,” Huang Rong said, smiling. “If you would be kind enough to give him some pointers, then, thanks to you, my dad will have some appreciation for him!”
“Little rogue,” Qigong grumbled, “who has learned not even a tenth of her father's kung fu, but who has inherited all his trickery and cleverness! I don't like your flattery or your toadying! And also, I never take disciples! Who wants a stupid one like that? You planned to get me to teach your dumb little husband! Huh, this old beggar will not fall into such a trap!”
Huang Rong bowed her head, red faced. She never had applied herself to learn martial arts. Her father himself was so powerful, yet she had not learned seriously from him; why would she want to learn from Qigong? But Guo Jing’s kung fu was not up to the mark and his six Shifus considered her to be a ‘little witch’, so she rejoiced at having met a master such as Qigong. She hoped that he would pass on a little of his knowledge to her loved one so that, in front of his masters and in front of Qiu Chuji's Taoists, Guo Jing would not have to be afraid, like a mouse in front of the cats.