“Could it be true,” thought Ouyang Feng, “that this oldie has whipped up a phoney reputation, cheating his way to worldly renown with a lifetime of deception?”
Huang Yaoshi, noticing him slowly straightening to a stand, had already guessed what he was thinking. He took the cast-iron palm from his daughter’s hands. The hollow of the palm, he noticed, was engraved with the word “Qiu”, and the back of it had a carving in a wave pattern.
“This is the leadership token of Qiu Qianren, the Chief of Hunan’s Iron Palm Gang,” he said. “20
years ago, this token was really of the utmost significance in jianghu. No matter whose hands it was in, it brought an irresistible right of way, from as far east as Jiujiang to as far west as Chengdu; followers of both right and wrong would without exception offer awed obedience at the sight of it.
In the past few years, the name of the Iron Palm Gang has long been unheard of, and it’s unknown whether – or how – it’s disbanded. Could this shameless, pathetic, big-talking oldie really be the owner of the token?” With doubts in his mind, he returned the iron palm to his daughter.
Seeing the iron palm, Ouyang Feng peered at it from the corners of his eyes, an expression of great surprise on his face.
“This iron palm could turn out to be a lot of fun,” giggled Huang Rong. “I want it! That deceitful guy has no further use for it.” Lifting the three-section iron sword, she called out “Catch!” and
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raised her hand to throw it. But seeing the distance to Qiu Qianren was very far, she didn’t have enough strength in her hands; her throw definitely wouldn’t reach.
Smiling to her father, she handed him the sword. “Dad,” she said, “you throw it to him!”
Huang Yaoshi, whose suspicions were aroused, had been intending a further test of whether or not Qiu Qianren had any real ability at all. Raising his left hand, he lay the iron sword flat atop his palm with the tip of the sword pointing away from him, and flicked its handle with the middle finger of his right hand. There was a light clang as the sword shot off sharply, faster and harder than if fired from a taut, powerful crossbow. Huang Rong and Guo Jing clapped their hands and cheered; Ouyang Feng, secretly shocked, thought: “What terrific Divine Flick skill!”
While they roared in acclaim, the sword flew straight at Qiu Qianren. When its tip appeared to be only metres from him, he remained squatting on the ground, unmoving; and in the blink of an eye, the point of the sword had already plunged into his back. Although the three-section sword wasn’t sharp at all, this one flick from Huang Yaoshi had sent it in handle-deep. Even if it were a blade of wood or bamboo – let alone an iron sword – this oldie, if he wasn’t dead, was surely heavily injured.
With flying steps, Guo Jing went over for a closer look. Suddenly, he gave a loud cry of astonishment. There was a yellow ko-hemp jacket on the ground; picking it up and waving it in the air again and again, he shouted: “Oldie sneaked off long ago!”
As it happened, Qiu Qianren had taken off his jacket and hung it over the stem of a small tree – not only was he far apart from the others, the grass and woods were also blocking the view – and he’d somehow pulled off this ‘moult of the golden cicada’ trick. Just now, Huang Yaoshi and Ouyang Feng were concentrating on facing their opponent, their eyes on nothing else; and those two were in turn being watched by Zhu Cong and the rest. In the end, they’d all been deceived by Qiu Qianren.
Eastern Heretic and Western Venom, giving each other a glance, couldn’t help bursting simultaneously into loud laughter, both feeling secret cheer at having one less powerful enemy in the world.
Ouyang Feng knew that Huang Yaoshi was quick-witted in thought, and not straightforward like Hong Qigong; it wasn’t easy to connive against him and succeed. But seeing him laughing in an easy-going manner, totally off-guard, how could he not take advantage of this opportunity to land a vicious strike? He gave three clanging laughs – a noise just like the din of gold clashing with iron –
then stopped abruptly, as quick as lightning making a sudden bow low towards Huang Yaoshi.
Huang Yaoshi, still laughing with his head held high, raised his left palm sharply and clenched his right in a hook – and clasped his hands, returning the courtesy. Both men swayed slightly.
His surprise attack failing to connect, Ouyang Feng stood unmoving, before suddenly retreating three steps. “Heretic Huang,” he shouted, “we’ll meet again!” With a shake of his long sleeves, cloth swirled as he turned to go.
There was the faintest change of expression on Huang Yaoshi’s face: he thrust out his left palm in front of his daughter, shielding her. Guo Jing had also recognised that Western Venom, in the midst of this turn, was stealthily unleashing his ruthless, sinister skills, and was about to use an Air-Splitting Palm-type technique to launch a sneak attack on Huang Rong. But both in reactions and making his move, he wasn’t as quick as Huang Yaoshi; seeing the danger, it was already too late to Eagle Shooting Hero
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help. So with a loud shout, he threw a double punch straight at Western Venom’s stomach, hoping to force him to counterpunch in self-defence. The power applied in the sneak attack on Huang Rong would then not be enough.
The force unleashed by Ouyang Feng had just been repelled by Huang Yaoshi; exploiting the momentum, he immediately swung it around to attack Guo Jing instead. This move augmented the original force from himself with energy borrowed from Huang Yaoshi’s block, amplifying its power. Guo Jing, in a critical position, ducked and rolled away. Leaping up afterwards, his face was already pale with shock.
“Good little boy!” swore Ouyang Feng. “I don’t see you for a few days, and your skills improve yet again.” Just now, his counterattacking move – borrowing an opponent’s strength to injure another, an unfathomable variation delivered with unspeakable speed – had somehow been dodged by Guo Jing. That was completely beyond his expectations.
The Six Freaks of Jiangnan, seeing both sides go on the attack, had clustered into a semicircular barrier behind Ouyang Feng. Paying no attention to them in the slightest, he dashed straight through, taking big strides. Quan Jinfa and Han Xiaoying, not daring to obstruct him, stepped aside to get out of his way and watched wide-eyed as he left the forest.
If Huang Yaoshi had wanted to avenge Mei Chaofeng right now, he could have got everyone to join forces, surround Western Venom, and overwhelm him. But being proud and arrogant by nature, he was unwilling to let anyone say a word about him ‘using the many to persecute the few’, and would rather seek him out again in the future, alone. Following the figure of Ouyang Feng with his gaze, he gave a cold laugh.
Guo Jing, Quan Jinfa and the others untied Huazheng, Tuolei, Zhebie and Bo’erhu. Already beside themselves with joy at the sight of Guo Jing still alive, they loudly cursed Yang Kang for his deceitful rumourmongering. “That Yang character said that he had to hurry to Yuezhou for something,” fumed Tuolei. “I thought he was just a decent person, so I wasted three fine horses on him as a gift.”
Earlier, they’d been told of Guo Jing’s tragic loss; in the midst of their grief they heard Yang Kang talking on and on about wanting to avenge his sworn brother, and had fallen for his spiel. That evening, while they were staying together at an inn in a small town north of Lin’an, Yang Kang had wanted to go and stab Tuolei to death. But he hadn’t expected that Fatty and Skinny – the two beggars who’d seen him holding the stick of the Chief’s authority – were guarding him vigilantly, taking turns on night watch outside his window. Yang Kang had several times been just about to launch his attack, only to see if not Fatty then Skinny, patrolling to and fro in the courtyard with blade in hand. After waiting a whole night and from start to finish not getting an opportunity, he just gave up; the next day, he cheated Tuolei out of three fine horses, and rode off westward along with the two beggars.
Tuolei and the others, unaware that the previous night they’d nearly died a brutal death, were about to head north when they saw the pair of white eagles turn around and fly south. Waiting for half a day, there was no sign of them coming back. Tuolei knew that the eagles were unusually intelligent and that there must have been a reason for them to go south; as there was fortunately no urgency at all to return north, they therefore waited in the inn for a couple of days. When the third day arrived, the eagles suddenly flew back, crying incessantly at Huazheng. Tuolei and the others followed in a
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group as the pair of eagles led the way, once again travelling south. Unfortunately, they then chanced upon Qiu Qianren and Ouyang Feng in the forest.
The Jin Empire had conferred a mission upon Qiu Qianren: incite the champions in Jiangnan to get fired up against each other, so that the Jin army could come south. While talking trash to Ouyang Feng in the forest, he’d spotted Tuolei – the Mongolian ambassador – and, together with Ouyang Feng, had instantly gone on the attack. Although Zhebie and the others were extraordinarily brave, how were they a match for Western Venom? The two eagles had actually flown south because they’d discovered the tracks made by the Little Red horse, but had ended up unwittingly leading their master into a catastrophe. And if they hadn’t brought Guo Jing and Huang Rong over just in time, Tuolei’s entire group would have inadvertently lost their lives there and then in the forest. Of these particulars, there were some Huazheng knew of, and there were some she was oblivious to.