Eagle Shooting Hero 2(38)

Ouyang Ke was ecstatic; he thought, “What does this stupid kid know about wind or string instruments? The victory is mine for sure.”

Ouyang Feng on the other hand was not so sure. He suspected that Huang Yaoshi was going to test these two peoples’ internal energy strength with the flute’s sound. He knew Guo Jing’s level of internal energy to be quite strong and his nephew would not necessarily exceed him. Also, he was afraid his nephew would be internally injured by Huang Yaoshi’s flute sound. He said, “The Juniors’ internal energy cultivation is shallow and I am afraid they won’t be able to listen to Brother Yao’s elegant melody. I wonder if Brother Yao would consider …”

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Huang Yaoshi did not give him a chance to finish, “My song is an ordinary one without any high level of internal energy. Brother Feng, set your heart at ease.” Towards Ouyang Ke and Guo Jing he said, “Nephews, please take a bamboo stick and follow my music by tapping it to the rhythm. The one who can follow best will win the second test.”

Guo Jing stepped forward and cupped his hands, “Island Master Huang, disciple is very slow and stupid. I know nothing about music, so let me admit defeat in the second test.”

“Don’t be hasty…don’t be hasty,” Hong Qigong intervened, “At worst you will lose, so why don’t you try? Are you afraid that others will laugh in your face?”

Guo Jing thought his master made some sense; seeing Ouyang Ke take a bamboo stick he did the same.

“Brother Qi, Brother Feng,” Huang Yaoshi smiled, “Younger brother will show off his lack of ability.” Lifting the jade flute to his lips he started to blow. This part of his song did not carry any internal energy and it wasn’t any different than what an ordinary person would play.

Ouyang Ke listened attentively, trying to follow the rhythm; then he started tapping his bamboo stick correctly. Guo Jing did not have a clue, so he held his bamboo stick high in the air but did not dare tap it. It was only after Huang Yaoshi had played for about the time needed to drink a cup of tea, he began to move his stick.

The Ouyangs, uncle and nephew, were very smug. They thought that this time victory was guaranteed. Since the third subject would be literary, they were ninety percent sure they would win.

Huang Rong was feeling anxious so she lightly tapped her right hand finger on her left knuckles with the hope Guo Jing would follow. Who would have thought that Guo Jing would sit staring blankly at the sky, lost in thought; obviously he did not see her signal.

Huang Yaoshi kept blowing the flute. Guo Jing raised his hand and struck the bamboo stick in between two beats of the music. Ouyang Ke stifled a laugh, thinking that this stupid kid strikes on the wrong beat. Guo Jing struck again, still in between two music beats. He had struck four times with his bamboo stick, all in the wrong places.

Huang Rong shook her head in dismay, “My stupid brother does not understand anything about music,” she thought, “Father shouldn’t have tested him.” Having had this thought, she racked her brain, trying to find a way to disrupt the test. But when she turned her gaze toward her father she was surprised; her father was showing astonishment in his face. She heard Guo Jing tap several more times and the flute sound suddenly became a little bit slow, but then it immediately resumed its original tempo.

Guo Jing kept tapping his bamboo stick, always on the off-beat: sometimes tapping faster, sometimes slower. He drove the tempo faster, and sometimes slower. On several occasions the music from the flute almost could not maintain its steady rhythm and was nearly forced to follow the bamboo stick’s erratic tempo. Huang Yaoshi was not the only one who was astounded; Hong Qigong and Ouyang Feng also felt something strange was happening.

Actually Guo Jing remembered listening to the battle between the three people earlier: the flute, the zither and the whistle. He noticed that the sounds fought each other systematically, like a battle 552



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strategy in war. He did not have the slightest degree of comprehension about music theory, but listening to Huang Yaoshi’s flute he wanted to try to battle that sound and thus he struck the bamboo stick erratically to disrupt the melody. He tapped the bamboo stick against an old bamboo tree, creating a loud ‘bonk, bonk’ sound. The sound made Huang Yaoshi feel like he was inside a hot furnace and the fire was glowing white hot, forcing the flute to surrender and follow the erratic tempo of the bamboo stick.

Huang Yaoshi’s spirits were roused as he thought about this kid unexpectedly possessing this kind of ability. The flute sound changed again; this time it flowed faster and slower seemingly having infinite variations. Ouyang Ke only stopped to listen for a moment, then he could not resist lifting his bamboo stick and brandishing it erratically in the air. Ouyang Feng heaved a sigh, quickly took his nephew’s hand, and pressed the main artery on his wrist. Then he took out a silk handkerchief, tore it into two pieces and plugged Ouyang Ke’s ears. After a while Ouyang Ke started to calm down and Ouyang Feng let his hand go.

Since her childhood Huang Rong had listened to her father’s ‘Jade-Colored Tidal Wave Song’; one time Huang Yaoshi even explained, in detail, every variation there was. The father and daughter’s minds were like one so this song did not affect her at all, but she was fully aware that her father’s flute carried enormous power. Therefore, she was worried that Guo Jing would not be able to defend himself.

This song simulated the vastness of the ocean with its thousands of waves, coming slowly from afar, and then crashing on the shores. The wave was foamy white and high as a mountain; but in the tide the fish leaped and the whale floated, while above the water seagulls flew. In a moment the water turned wild, like a group of devils was stirring it; the weather turned cold and icebergs came floating by. In another moment it turned hot, extremely hot, so that the sea was rippling and bubbling like boiling water. The next moment, just as quickly, the sea became calm and the surface was as smooth as a mirror. The water flowed strongly, yet quietly; but beneath the surface there was a very strong current threatening those who were unwittingly brave enough to enter and challenge its power. Such were the complexities of the song.

Guo Jing sat cross-legged on the ground as he exerted the Quanzhen Sect’s internal energy to suppress the turmoil in his heart and refresh his spirit, all the while resisting the temptation of the flute’s sound. At the same time he kept tapping the bamboo stick disrupting the flute’s song.

When Huang Yaoshi, Hong Qigong and Ouyang Feng were battling each other with sounds earlier, they were on the offensive and defensive alternately. They had to guard their own hearts and minds while looking for an opportunity to launch a counterattack; each trying to subdue the other’s hearts and minds. Guo Jing’s internal energy was much inferior to those three; he was only able to put up a strong defense, without being able to launch a counterattack. But Huang Yaoshi was not able to penetrate his defense either.

After a long while, the volume of the flute gradually decreased, making it difficult to hear. Guo Jing stopped tapping to listen. This was the moment Huang Yaoshi was waiting for; unexpectedly, as the sound became softer, the stronger the energy it carried. Because Guo Jing was listening attentively, his heart began to follow the rhythm of the flute. Had this happened to someone else, they would fall into the trap and would not be able to escape; but Guo Jing was different. He had learned the

‘Left/Right Mutual Hands Combat’ and he was capable of dividing his mind. He used his left hand Eagle Shooting Hero

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to take the shoe from his left foot to knock on the bamboo pole. “Knock! Knock! Knock!” again, disrupting the flute’s sound.

Huang Yaoshi was startled, “This kid possesses some extraordinary skills; he truly cannot be underestimated.” He started to walk around according to the ‘Eight Trigrams’ while he continued playing.

Both of Guo Jing’s hands were striking the bamboo pole with an erratic tempo opposing the flute’s rhythm. His hands were like two people joining forces to defend against Huang Yaoshi’s attack.

“Bonk…bonk…bonk! Knock…knock…knock!” His defensive power was doubled.

Hong Qigong and Ouyang Feng were quietly focusing their attention and energy guarding themselves against the internal energy battle between these two people. Even though one party was only on the defensive, they did not dare to carelessly ignore the offensive energy from the flute.

The flute sound suddenly ran from high to low; ever changing, strange yet wonderful. Guo Jing suddenly felt a burst of cold air carried by the flute’s sound. He felt like his body was wrapped in a thick layer of ice, which had him shivering violently.

The flute sound gently climbed up the hill, getting more and more intense. Guo Jing felt cold to his bones. He struggled hard to divert his mind and to think about a burning sun in the sky, or of touching iron exposed to the heat of the day, or of holding a burning coal in his hand, or that he was entering a very hot stove; in short, any kind of heat inducing thoughts. He succeeded. Huang Yaoshi saw Guo Jing’s left side was blue and shivering from the cold, while his right side was red, sweltering from the heat.