The Seven Freaks of the South

1

YAN LIE STEPPED OUT INTO THE CORRIDOR. A YAWNING MIDDLE-AGED man was shuffling towards him, his leather slippers scuffing along the floorboards. He seemed to be half smiling, perhaps even winking at him. His clothes were ragged and spotted with grease, his face grimy as if he had not washed in weeks, and he fanned himself with a broken black oilpaper fan.

His dress showed he was a man of some education, but his filthy appearance disgusted Yan Lie, who scuttled on, pressing himself against the wall so as not to brush up against him. Just as they were passing each other, however, the man broke into a harsh, hollow laugh, flipped his fan shut and tapped it against Yan Lie's shoulder.

"What are you doing?" Yan Lie cried, unable to deflect the fan in time.

Another dry laugh, and the scholar shuffled away, his slippers scuffing against the floorboards. The man then turned to one of the men working at the inn and said, "You there, young man. I may look as if I've fallen on hard times, but I travel with silver in my pocket. It's not me you should be watchful of, but those men in fancy clothes pretending they are important. They seduce respectable women, eat without paying, take rooms and never settle the bill. Keep an eye out for those types. I would make them pay in advance, just to be sure." He had already disappeared down the corridor before the attendant could reply.

Yan Lie was furious. The attendant glanced at Yan Lie, walked up to him and bowed.

"Please don't take offence, sir," the attendant simpered, "I don't mean to be rude, but . . ."

"Take this, and make sure you put it somewhere safe!" he snorted, reaching beneath his shirt for his silver. But the colour drained from his face. He had tucked at least forty or fifty taels in there before leaving his room, but they were gone.

The attendant straightened himself and puffed up his chest. So the scholar was right, and not just bitter. "What's that? No money?"

"Wait here," Yan Lie replied. "I have some in my room." I must have forgotten it as I hurried out, he thought. But back in his room, he opened his pouch to discover all his gold and silver had vanished. He had no idea when it could have been taken. Madam Bao and I both went to the lavatory at the same time just now, he said to himself, but we were only away from the room for a matter of moments. Could someone have stolen it in such a short space of time? The thieves of Jiaxing were impressive indeed.

The attendant poked his head through the door. Yan Lie was still puzzled, his hands empty. "Is this woman even your wife?" The attendant was angry now. "If you've kidnapped her, we will be implicated!"

Charity was mortified, her cheeks flushed crimson. Yan Lie took one large stride towards the door and slapped the back of his hand against the attendant's face, knocking out several teeth.

The attendant brought his hands to his bleeding cheeks. "First you don't pay, then you start a fight!" he cried.

Yan Lie kicked the attendant in the behind, sending him crashing out the door.

"Let's go, we can't stay here any longer," Charity said, shaken.

"Not to worry." Yan Lie smiled, grabbing a chair and sitting by the door. "We are going to get our silver back first."

Before long, the attendant came rushing back in with a group of thugs, each armed with a club. Yan Lie smiled. "A fight?"

He leapt up and snatched a club from the hand of one of the men, faked a right, jabbed to the left, and knocked half the men to the ground. They were used to turning up and merely intimidating their opponents, but it was obvious their fighting skills were nothing compared to this wealthy guest's, so the remaining men threw down their clubs and swarmed out of the room. The others scrambled to their feet and followed.

"This is serious," Charity said, her voice shaking. "The authorities might come after us."

"That is exactly my intention," Yan Lie said.

Charity did not know what was going on, so decided to stay quiet. Within the hour, shouting could be heard outside and a dozen government runners burst into the courtyard holding sabres and shorter broadswords.

Over the sound of clanging metal, Yan Lie heard a man say: "Kidnapped her and then assaulted you? How dare he! Where is this crook?"

The men rushed in. Yan Lie was sitting perfectly still in a chair. He cut an intimidating figure in his expensive clothes.

"You, what's your name?" the man in charge demanded. "What are you doing here in Jiaxing?"

"Fetch me Gai Yuncong!" came Yan Lie's reply.

The men were surprised and angered to hear him use the Governor of Jiaxing's name so casually. "Have you lost your mind? How dare you use the Honourable Governor's given name?"

Yan Lie removed a letter from inside his shirt and threw it on the table. "Deliver this to Gai Yuncong and see if he comes."

The man in charge walked over to the table, took the letter and read the characters on the front. He was visibly shocked, but hesitated, unsure if the letter was genuine. "Watch him, make sure he doesn't get away," he hissed as he dashed out of the door.

Charity sat, her heart thumping and her cheeks deathly pale.

It was not long before another dozen government men came crowding into the room, two among them clothed head-to-toe in full ceremonial dress. They ran over to Yan Lie, dropped to their knees and kowtowed at his feet: "Your humble servants Governor Gai Yuncong of Jiaxing and Magistrate Jiang Wentong bow before Your Excellency. Your humble servants were not informed of Your Excellency's arrival; please forgive us such an improper reception."

Yan Lie waved at them and lifted himself from his seat a little. "I was robbed of some silver this morning. May I trouble you two good sirs to investigate?"

"Of course." Gai Yuncong nodded, waving two of his men over. They each carried a tray; one glowed the warm yellow of gold, the other glinted the dazzling white of silver. "Your humble servant is ashamed to admit such brazen and odious villains roam free in our county, and that they have stolen from Your Excellency. The fault is all mine. Will Your Excellency accept this as a small token of our regret?"

Yan Lie smiled and nodded. Gai Yuncong further presented Yan Lie with a letter. "Your humble servant has just had the Governor's residence cleaned, and Your Excellency and His Lady are cordially invited to stay there as long as Your Excellency may wish."

"That won't be necessary. I like it here, it's peaceful. We don't want to be disturbed again," he said, his face darkening.

"Yes, of course! Should Your Excellency require anything, please let me know. Your humble servant will take care of it."

Yan Lie did not reply but waved them away, at which the two men ushered the others out.

The attendant had been cowering in fear, but now the innkeeper dragged him over to Yan Lie and made him kowtow and beg for mercy, declaring they would accept whatever punishment His Excellency might choose to mete out. Yan Lie took an ingot of silver from the plate and threw it on the ground. "There's your payment. Now go." The attendant froze in stunned silence, but the owner judged there to be no malice in Yan Lie's actions, so he grabbed the piece of silver, bowed a few times and pulled the attendant out of the door.

Charity was as uneasy as before. "What was so special about that letter? Why would an official be so frightened after reading it?"

"I don't actually have any authority over them," Yan Lie said, "but these officials are useless. Zhao Kuo likes to surround himself with worthless men. If he doesn't end up losing his land, then there's no justice in this world."

"Zhao Kuo?"

"Emperor Ningzong of Song."

"Shhh!" Charity was horrified. "You can't use His Majesty's given name. Someone will hear."

Yan Lie was pleased that she cared for his safety. "It's fine. That's what we call him in the north."

"The north?"

Yan Lie nodded and was about to explain when they heard the sound of beating hooves outside. Another group of men on horses stopped in front of the inn. A warm flush of red had just returned to Charity's snowy cheeks, but the sound of horses' hooves brought back memories of her capture only days before and once again they faded to ashen white. Yan Lie's brow wrinkled, displeasure clearly etched across his face.

Footsteps echoed around the courtyard outside as the men, dressed in brocade, entered the inn. "Your Royal Highness!" They saluted Yan Lie in unison, dropping to their knees.

"You found me at last," Yan Lie said with a smile.

Charity was now even more surprised. She watched as they stood up, her eyes tracing the muscles beneath their clothing.

"Everyone outside." Yan Lie waved at them. The men barked their assent and filed out. He then turned to Charity. "What do you think of my men? How do they compare to the Song's soldiers?"

"These men don't fight for the Song?"

"I suppose I should be honest with you. These are elite forces fighting on behalf of the Great Jin Empire!"

"Then, you're . . ." There was a tremble in her voice.

"Madam, I cannot lie anymore. My name is not Yan Lie. There are two characters missing. I am in fact Wanyan Honglie, the Sixth Prince of the Jin, titled Prince Zhao."

Charity had been weaned on her father's stories of how the Jin had ravaged Song lands and massacred the peasants of the north, and how the Song Emperors had let themselves be captured. Her husband's hatred for the Jin ran even deeper. Had she really spent the last few days with a Jin prince?

Wanyan Honglie could see the expression on Charity's face change. "I've long heard about the wonders of the south," he continued, "so last year I asked my father, the Emperor of the Jin, to send me to Lin'an to act as envoy for the New Year Celebrations. And in any case, the Song Emperor still had not paid his annual tribute, a few hundred thousand taels of silver, so my father wanted me to collect that as well."

"Annual tribute?"

"Indeed, the Song Emperors pay us a tribute of silver and silk so we won't invade. They always claim they cannot collect enough in taxes in order to pay it promptly. But this time I demanded it from Chancellor Han. I told him that if they did not pay within a month, I'd lead Jin soldiers to the south myself to collect in full."

"How did Chancellor Han respond?"

"In the only way he could: the silk and silver were in the north before I even left the city!" He laughed. Charity frowned and did not answer. "Of course, they didn't really need me to chase the tribute," he continued. "A special envoy would have been good enough. But I wanted to see the beauty of the south myself, the scenery, the people, their customs. I never imagined I would meet my lady, and that you would save my life! Luck was shining on me, indeed."

Charity's head swirled and panic was rising within her.

"And now I'm going to buy some more clothes for you."

"That's not necessary," Charity replied without looking up.

"The money the Governor gave me himself from his own pocket would be enough to buy my lady a new outfit every day for a thousand years! Please don't be afraid, Madam; the inn is surrounded by my men, nobody can harm you." With that, he left.

Charity was left with her thoughts of all that had happened since the day she first met him. He, a royal prince, treating a lowly widow with such kindness. His intentions had to be dishonourable. Her husband was dead, leaving her, a poor wretched woman, all on her own, and instead of running away she had ended up she knew not where. Panic pulsed through her again. She hugged her pillow close, her tears running into it.

WANYAN HONGLIE tucked the gold and silver into his shirt and walked in the direction of the market. He watched as the local peasants went about their business. There was something dignified about them despite the simplicity of their situations, and he could not help but admire them.

All of a sudden, drumming hooves. A horse appeared up ahead, galloping towards him. The street was narrow and filled with market stalls and people shopping. Wanyan Honglie jerked to the side just as the sandy-coloured mare came sailing through the sea of people. Miraculously the horse drifted through the crowd without knocking against a single person or kicking anything over, each stride light, each jump smooth, as it skimmed over a stall selling ceramics and baskets of vegetables. It was as if the horse was floating across open grasslands, rather than charging through a busy market street.

The horse was handsome, towering and muscular. Wanyan Honglie drew his eyes from the horse up to the rider and was surprised to see a short, beefy man, straddling it as if he were sat astride a lump of meat. His arms and legs were short, as was his almost non-existent neck, making his enormous head look as if it had been pressed into his shoulders.

Incredible, Wanyan Honglie thought, unable to contain himself.

The man turned towards Wanyan as he floated past, revealing cheeks red and blotchy from too much rice wine, and a nose shiny and round like a persimmon stuck in the middle.

Such a fine horse, I must have it whatever the price, Wanyan Honglie thought to himself. At that moment, two children ran out into the lane from the opposite direction, chasing each other, straight into the horse's path. Surprised, the horse kicked out. Just as the beast's left hoof was about to strike one of the children, the man pulled hard on the reins and lifted out of the saddle, pulling the horse up, its hooves narrowly grazing the tops of the children's heads. Disaster averted, the man sat back in his saddle.

Wanyan Honglie stared in amazement; there were many fine riders among his people, yet this man was surely the finest horseman he had ever seen. If I took him back with me to the capital, my army could conquer the world, he thought. Much better than merely buying the horse. He had been scouting out locations to station troops throughout this trip south, where to cross rivers, even noting the names and competencies of every county official he passed on the way. Such remarkable talent is going to waste here in the south where the government is so corrupt, he said to himself. Why not offer him a position with me? It was decided: he was going to take him back to the Jin capital in the north to cultivate his talents.

He started running after the horse, afraid he would lose them. He was about to call out after them, but the horse halted suddenly at the corner of the main road. The abruptness with which animal and rider stopped was remarkable; this alone would have convinced him of the man's superior capabilities. He watched as the rider jumped down from his saddle and entered a shop.

Wanyan Honglie hurried closer and peered at a large wooden sign inside: LI PO'S LEGACY . He stepped back and looked up at the large gold-lettered sign hanging from the eaves: Garden of the Eight Drunken Immortals , written in the finest calligraphy, and beside it, By the hand of Su Dongpo , one of the Song's best calligraphers, poets and statesmen. Such imposing luxury; this must be one of the town's best taverns. I'll treat him to a fine meal and plenty of drink, Wanyan Honglie said to himself. I couldn't have hoped for a better opportunity.

Just then the stocky man came scuttling back down the stairs carrying a large wine jug, and waddled up to his horse. Wanyan Honglie slipped out of view.

The man looked even fatter and uglier up close. He could not have been more than three foot, about the height of his horse's stirrups, with shoulders almost as broad as he was tall. He struck the neck of the jug a few times, swiped the top half off so that it became a basin, and placed it before the animal. The horse reared up onto its hind legs, neighed with delight and started drinking the contents. Wanyan Honglie could smell it from where he was standing. Blushing Maiden, a famous fragrant wine from Shaoxing. Aged for ten years, he deduced from a longer sniff.

The man walked back into the tavern and threw a large sycee ingot of silver onto the counter. "Bring us three tables of your best food, two with meat, one vegetarian," he instructed.

"Certainly, Third Brother Han." The innkeeper smiled. "Today we have the finest perch from the River Song, the perfect accompaniment to some of our best rice wine. Take back your silver, eat first."

"What? The wine is free, is it?" he said in a strange voice and with a hint of defiance in his eyes. "Are you suggesting Third Brother Han is a villain who eats without paying?"

The innkeeper chuckled, taking it in good jest, before calling to the waiters, "Boys, get to work and prepare Third Brother Han's food!"

"Yes, sir!" the men responded.

He's not especially well dressed, Wanyan Honglie said to himself, but he spends generously and is treated with respect. He must be important. Looks like it's not going to be easy to persuade him to continue further north. I'll keep watching to see who he's inviting to dinner.

He slipped upstairs, found a seat by a window and ordered a jug of wine and a few dishes.

2

THE GARDEN OF THE EIGHT DRUNKEN IMMORTALS SAT ON THE banks of South Lake. It was late spring and the water was clear like a sheet of blue-green jade. A light mist clung to the water's surface, which trembled as leisure boats scored ripples across it. The lake too was scattered with the emerald leaves of the water chestnut. South Lake produced the sweetest, most tender water chestnuts for miles around, crisp and refreshing.

Wanyan Honglie's eyes drew in the scene and he felt relaxed and contented. Just then a long, narrow boat came skating across the water, its bow jutting upwards. He was not paying particular attention at first, until he noticed that it had overtaken another boat which only moments before had been some way out in front. As it came closer he noted the passenger and someone at the back with a paddle, wearing a cape made from rushes. To his surprise, the oarsman was in fact a woman. She twisted the paddle lightly, slicing the boat through the water like an arrow. The boat alone must have weighed at least one hundred jin , Wanyan Honglie reflected, which meant both oarswoman and oar must be exceptionally strong.

With just a few more twists the boat pulled up beside the tavern. Sunlight glinted off the paddle. It must have been made of metal. The woman tied the boat to a wooden post at the foot of the tavern's stone steps and jumped adroitly onto land, taking the paddle with her. The man in the boat picked up a shoulder pole with two bundles of firewood and followed her up the stairs to the first floor of the restaurant.

"Third Brother!" the woman called out to the rider, and sat beside him.

"Fourth Brother, Seventh Sister, you're early!" he replied.

Wanyan Honglie surveyed the two new arrivals. She looked to be around seventeen or eighteen, slim, with large eyes, long eyelashes and skin white like snow. A pretty girl of the local rivers and lakes. She had removed the straw hat to reveal her gorgeous black hair, which hung, like inky clouds from a painting, around her face. She may not be as beautiful as my Madam Bao, but she has a certain charm, he thought to himself.

The man with the firewood looked to be in his late twenties, dressed from head to toe in black, with a coarse rope tied around his waist – into which was tucked a small axe – and straw sandals on his feet. His hands and feet were huge, his expression honest but dull. He put down the shoulder pole and leaned it against the table. Large enough to sit eight, it creaked and shot back a few centimetres under the weight of the pole. The pole did not appear to be remarkable in any way, black and glossy with a slight bend in the middle, each end capped by a small sheath, Wanyan observed. It too must have been cast from metal.

Just as they took their seats, the sound of footsteps echoed on the stairs and two more people emerged.

"Fifth Brother, Sixth Brother, you're here."

The first man was tall and sturdy, and must have weighed some two hundred and fifty jin . His shirt was open and he had rolled up his sleeves, revealing a bushy chest and arms covered in thick black hairs. Over this he wore a greasy butcher's apron, with a foot-long knife tucked into its strings. Behind him came a shorter man, his skin pearly white, a felt cap perched on his head. He carried a set of scales and a bamboo basket.

At that moment, they heard what sounded like someone beating metal against stone. The sound grew louder. A man appeared, dressed in rags, dragging an iron staff up the stairs. Wanyan Honglie thought he looked to be around thirty, with razor-sharp features and a greying complexion. His eyes were covered in a white film.

The others stood up and announced in unison: "Big Brother."

"Big Brother, sit here," the woman said, patting the seat beside her.

"Thank you," the blind man replied. "Second Brother isn't here yet?"

"Second Brother just arrived in Jiaxing," the butcher replied. "He should be here any moment."

"That's him," the woman said, smiling, as they heard the sound of leather slapping against the steps.

Wanyan Honglie froze. There, at the top of the stairs, appeared a broken black oilpaper fan.

It quaked briefly, and then behind it followed a head. It was him.

"He took my money," Wanyan Honglie growled, anger germinating inside him. The man grinned at him, stuck out his tongue and turned to greet the others. This was Second Brother.

They're clearly important fighters of the jianghu , Wanyan Honglie thought. They could do a lot for me. The filthy one may have stolen my money, but it will be of no consequence if I can persuade them to come with me to the north.

Second Brother took a swig of wine and began reciting a poem, his head swaying from side to side as the words dipped and soared:

"Ill-gotten gains, let them go,

For the Jade Emperor is about to blow! "

He reached into his shirt and removed ingot after ingot, laying them out neatly on the table. Eight gold, two silver.

Wanyan Honglie recognised them by their size and lustre – they were his! But caution overcame his anger. I can understand how he took the ones from my room, that was easy, but my shirt? He tapped me with his fan, but otherwise I didn't feel a thing.

It soon became clear the seven martial siblings were the hosts, and they were waiting for guests. The innkeeper had placed only one set of chopsticks and a cup at each of the two remaining tables. Two guests. I wonder if they will be as strange, Wanyan Honglie thought to himself.

One cup of tea later, they heard someone reciting Buddhist scriptures at the bottom of the stairs. "Amituofo! "

"Venerable Monk Scorched Wood is here," the blind man said.

"Amituofo! "

At that moment, an emaciated monk, spindly like a twig, appeared at the top of the stairs. He must have been around fifty years of age, dressed in jute robes. In his hand he carried a piece of firewood, one end scorched black. What could it be for? Wanyan Honglie wondered.

The monk greeted his seven friends and the man in rags led him to one of the empty tables. "He came looking for me," the monk said, hovering above his seat before sitting, "but I knew at once that he was too strong. I must thank the Seven Heroes of the South for your kind help and ever solid sense of justice; I am forever in your debt."

"Do not thank us, Venerable Monk Scorched Wood," the blind man replied. "It is we who are indebted to your daily kindness. How could we just look on when Your Reverence was in trouble? Why did this fellow challenge Your Reverence to a fight? He obviously doesn't think much of us masters of the southern wulin . There was no need—"

Before he could finish his sentence, the stairs began to creak. Indeed, it was so loud it sounded as though a water buffalo or some other giant creature was coming up the stairs.

"You can't take that up there!"

"You're going to break the floorboards!"

"Quick, stop him! Bring him back down!"

The innkeeper and his men were clamouring, but the creaking continued and only grew louder.

Wanyan Honglie was aghast. There, at the top of the stairs, stood a Taoist carrying a full-sized temple censer made of bronze, usually used for burning large quantities of paper money and sticks of incense. It was Elder Eternal Spring, Qiu Chuji.

The real purpose of Wanyan Honglie's previous trip had been to gain favour with important officials under the Emperor, so that when the Jin invaded the south, they would have secret allies inside the Song court. He was accompanied on his travels by a Song envoy, Wang Daoqian, who had done everything he could to exact the highest bribes from the Jin for his cooperation. Having long been protected by the northern barbarians, he was a symbol of the worst excesses of Song corruption. But as soon as they entered the city, he was happened upon by a Taoist, who had chopped off his head. Fearful his scheme had been uncovered by the Taoist, Wanyan Honglie fled with his aides. With the help of Lin'an's finest soldiers, they returned to track the assassin, chasing him all the way to Ox Village, where they engaged him in battle, only to discover he was an exceptional practitioner of the martial arts. Qiu Chuji caught Wanyan Honglie in the shoulder with an arrow before he had even launched one punch, and then went on to kill the rest of Wanyan's men. Had Wanyan Honglie not fled and chanced upon Charity's kindness, Qiu Chuji would have made Ox Village his grave.

Wanyan Honglie collected himself. Qiu Chuji had barely glanced in his direction and seemed far more concerned with Scorched Wood and the Seven Heroes of the South. Perhaps the Taoist had defeated him so quickly he could not recognise him? He calmed himself and turned his attention to the enormous censer the Taoist was carrying.

At four foot in diameter, it must have weighed more than two hundred jin on its own, but a waft of fragrant rice wine told Wanyan Honglie that it was not empty and must be considerably heavier. And yet the Taoist looked perfectly comfortable holding it. The weight continued to make the floorboards groan, and downstairs the innkeeper, his men and the other guests had pressed through the main door and out onto the street, fearful that the ceiling was about to collapse.

"We thank the esteemed Taoist for gracing us with his presence," Scorched Wood said coldly, "but why has he brought with him the bronze incense burner from my temple?"

Qiu Chuji raised his left hand out of respect. "I went first to the temple, but the Abbot Withered Wood told me the Venerable Monk Scorched Wood had invited me to the Garden of the Eight Drunken Immortals to drink wine with him. I assumed the Venerable Monk Scorched Wood wouldn't be alone, and I was right."

"Let me introduce the Seven Heroes of the South."

"I have long heard spoken the great deeds of the Seven Heroes of the South. Your reputation precedes you, and today I am lucky enough to make your acquaintance myself. It has been my life's great wish."

"This is Elder Eternal Spring, Qiu Chuji, of the Quanzhen Sect," Scorched Wood explained to the Seven Heroes. Turning to Qiu Chuji, he continued. "This," he said, gesturing to the blind man, "is their leader, Flying Bat Master Ke Zhen'e, Suppressor of Evil."

He went on to introduce the others, one by one. Wanyan Honglie listened carefully, committing each name to memory. The second was the dirty man who had stolen his silver, Quick Hands Zhu Cong the Intelligent. Next came the short, rotund man who arrived on a horse, Protector of the Steeds, Ryder Han. The fourth man to be introduced was the farmer carrying firewood, Woodcutter Nan the Merciful. Fifth was the burly man in a butcher's apron, Laughing Buddha Zhang Asheng. The young man who carried the scales was called Gilden Quan the Prosperous, also known as the Masked Haggler. Last came the young oarswoman, Maiden of the Yue Sword, Jade Han. She was the youngest.

Qiu Chuji bowed at each in turn as they were introduced. He was still holding the heavy bronze censer in his right hand but did not appear tired. Meanwhile, the other customers started venturing back inside and some even climbed the stairs, curious to see what was going on.

"We are a martial family, often called the Seven Freaks of the South," Ke Zhen'e began. "We are mere eccentrics, we daren't call ourselves martial arts masters. We have long been great admirers of the Seven Disciples of the Quanzhen Sect, and greatly respect Elder Eternal Spring for using his wuxia skills solely in the name of justice. Venerable Monk Scorched Wood is in turn most considerate and warm-hearted. How, may I ask, might he have offended Elder Eternal Spring? Please do us the honour of letting us act as peacemakers. While you both may pray to different deities, you have still both chosen a life of the temple, and are great men of the wulin . Why not air past grievances and drink together?"

"Venerable Monk Scorched Wood and I are strangers to one another," Qiu Chuji replied. "There is no ill will between us. If he surrenders the women, I will return to Fahua Temple and offer my sincerest apologies."

"Surrender which women?"

"Two of my friends were betrayed by the Song government and died violent deaths at the hands of marauding Jin soldiers," Qiu Chuji replied. "Each left behind a widow without family or friends. Master Ke, do you think I should ignore this injustice?"

The cup in Wanyan Honglie's hand shook, spilling a little wine onto the table.

"They need not be friends of ours for us to feel compelled to act. We would only have to hear of such a story to be moved, it is our duty as members of the wulin ."

"Indeed! And so I am asking our friend the monk to hand over the two wretched widows. He has assumed the robes of a holy man, so why is he detaining them in his temple? The Seven Heroes live by the wulin 's code of honour; can you explain this logic to me?"

Scorched Wood and the Seven Freaks were astonished by Qiu Chuji's words, as was Wanyan Honglie. Does he mean the wives of Ironheart Yang and Skyfury Guo? he asked himself.

Scorched Wood's normally sunken cheeks flushed crimson with anger. It took him a while to gather the words to reply. "How can you make such dishonourable accusations?" he stammered. "They are nonsense."

This angered Qiu Chuji even more. "You are also a great man of the wulin . How dare you lie to me!" he cried, and with one hand flung the bronze censer full of wine at Scorched Wood.

The frightened crowd gathered at the top of the stairs now pushed at each other in a scramble back down.

The monk dived out of the way. Laughing Buddha Zhang calculated he would be able to catch it, despite its weight. He strode forward, moved his inner strength to his arms and roared. The censer swooped at Zhang Asheng and stopped in his arms, the muscles in his shoulders and back bulging as his body absorbed its momentum. He lifted the censer above his head, but the weight was too much for the floor beneath him and his left foot tore through the wooden floorboards. A scream went up from downstairs. Zhang Asheng stepped forward, his arms slightly bent, and performed Open the Window and Push Back the Moon, thrusting the censer back at Qiu Chuji.

Qiu Chuji caught the censer with his right hand and held it above his head. "The Seven Heroes of the South are deserving of their reputation!" Then he turned to Scorched Wood. "What about the women? You have captured them and are keeping them in the temple. What do you want with them? If you hurt so much as one strand of their hair, I will grind your treacherous bones to dust and burn your temple to the ground!"

"His Holiness Scorched Wood is a virtuous and eminent monk," Zhu Cong said, flicking his fan and nodding. "How could he possibly do such a terrible thing? Your Reverence must have heard this rumour from some lowly beggar. Who could believe such fabrications!"

"I saw it with my own eyes," Qiu Chuji cried with rage. "How could it be a fabrication?"

The Seven Freaks froze.

"You have come south to establish your name – why ruin mine in the process?" Scorched Wood cried. "Ask the people of Jiaxing, could Scorched Wood the Monk be capable of such an evil deed?"

"Fine." Qiu Chuji smiled coldly. "You have supporters. Without them, defeat would be certain. But I will not let this go. You are hiding two women in a sacred temple, which is sin enough. Why kill their husbands, two such loyal patriots?"

"Elder Eternal Spring claims the Venerable Monk Scorched Wood is hiding the women, and the Venerable Monk insists he is not," Ke Zhen'e summarised. "Why don't we go to Fahua Temple and see who is telling the truth? I may be blind, but the rest of my martial family are perfectly able to see." The others agreed.

"Search the temple?" Qiu Chuji smiled. "I have already searched it several times, but even though I saw them enter, I could not find them inside. I don't understand it. So it is up to our friend the monk to hand the women over!"

"Perhaps they were not women," Ke Zhen'e interrupted.

"What?"

Ke Zhen'e gazed unseeing at Qiu Chuji, his face still with perfect solemnity. "They must be goddesses. Either they have made themselves invisible or else they have disappeared into thin air." The other Freaks tittered.

"I see you are mocking me. The Seven Freaks have allied themselves with the monk."

"Our skills may not seem much to a Master of the Quanzhen Sect. You may laugh at them, perhaps. But here in the south we can claim some fame. People say, 'Those Seven Freaks may be crazy, but they are no cowards.' We may not be masters of the wulin , perhaps, but we will not stand by and watch a friend be bullied."

"The Seven Heroes of the South do indeed claim a fine reputation, I have long heard of your skill. But this matter does not concern you, there is no need to be sullied by such murky matters. Let me deal with the Venerable Monk myself. Please forgive me, my friend; come with me." Qiu Chuji reached his left hand to take Scorched Wood by the wrist, but Scorched Wood twisted free of his grip.

The fight was starting.

"Elder Eternal Spring!" Ryder Han cried. "Are you deaf to reason?"

"What is it, Third Brother Han?"

"We believe Venerable Monk Scorched Wood is telling the truth," Ryder Han replied. "If he says he doesn't have them, then he doesn't have them. Such a steadfast and respected member of the wulin cannot be lying."

"So if he is not lying, then it is I who is the liar?" Qiu Chuji was furious. "I, Elder Eternal Spring, am to distrust my very own eyes? Seeing as they are so easily deceived, perhaps I should gouge them out and present them as a gift? They are useless to me. So, to confirm, you are allied with the monk?"

"Yes!" the Seven Freaks responded in unison.

"In that case, please everyone take a cup of wine. Let us first drink, then we fight." He lowered his right arm, put the bronze censer to his mouth and took a long gulp. "Here, for you." He flung the bronze censer at Zhang Asheng.

How am I going to drink from it, even if I catch it above my head? Zhang Asheng thought to himself. He retreated back two steps and placed his hands outstretched before him, but as the censer came hurtling towards him he opened his arms and let it crash against his chest. He carried some extra weight in that area, so his flesh absorbed the impact as if it were a soft cushion. With a deep breath, he thrust forward his chest and wrapped his arms around it. Gripping it tightly, he dipped his head and drank from the bowl. "Delicious!"

He pulled his arms away and let the censer balance a few moments, before pushing it away in a move known throughout the wulin as Two Hands to Move a Mountain. Wanyan Honglie watched in amazement.

Qiu Chuji caught the censer, drank another large mouthful of wine before propelling it towards Ke Zhen'e. "Master Ke, please!"

He's blind, how will he catch it? Wanyan Honglie thought. But he was unfamiliar with the extent of the Seven Freaks' martial skill, and the fact that Brother Ke was the most accomplished among them. Using his hearing alone, Ke could place a flying object to within a centimetre just by listening for the rush of air around it. He sat calmly, focused, seemingly unconcerned by Qiu Chuji's cry. Then, at the last possible moment, up shot his hand, and he struck the censer with his walking staff. He caught the censer and it spun like a plate on a bamboo stick. Ke Zhen'e then tipped the staff and the censer dipped, spinning a stream of rice wine from the rim. Ke Zhen'e opened his mouth and drank three or four mouthfuls, the spray drenching his clothes. He then jerked the stick with the lightest of touches, righting the censer, before flicking it up in the air. As it fell, he hit the censer one more time, sending it back, ringing, to Qiu Chuji.

"Master Ke must spin plates in his spare time!" Qiu Chuji laughed as he caught the censer with ease.

"We didn't have much money when I was a child, I used to spin plates to help my parents," Ke Zhen'e said, through gritted teeth.

"Honest work makes the man," Qiu Chuji said. "A toast to Fourth Brother Nan!" He took another gulp of wine and sent the censer to Woodcutter Nan.

Clang! Woodcutter Nan said nothing, but stopped the censer with his shoulder pole and scooped a handful of wine as it fell. He then spun his pole horizontally, dropped onto his right knee, placed the pole on his left, caught the censer with the other end of the pole and, pushing downwards, flicked it back into the air.

As the censer flew back in the direction of Qiu Chuji, Gilden Quan spoke. "I never turn down a good deal, let me drink." He appeared at Woodcutter Nan's side and waited for the censer's return. Just as it was falling, he too fished out a handful of wine, caught the censer with his feet and then kicked it back at Qiu Chuji. The backwards momentum sent him flying into the wall behind, where he slid to the ground.

"Wonderful, simply wonderful!" Zhu Cong declared, flicking his broken fan.

Qiu Chuji caught the censer and drank again. "Wonderful, wonderful. Now a drink for Second Brother."

"Aiya! I'm a master of the mind, not of the body. I can't hold my drink. I'll be drunk in seconds." The censer was already making its way back towards him before Zhu Cong could finish. "Help, it's going to squash me!"

He dipped his fan into the wine, drank, then struck the bottom of the censer, flicking it away. At that point, the floorboards creaked and a large crack appeared. "Help!" he cried as he fell through.

Everyone knew he was playing the fool. Wanyan Honglie, however, was still marvelling at Zhu Cong's use of the small fan, which appeared as strong as Woodcutter Nan's shoulder pole.

"What about me?" Jade Han called, and with the tap of her right foot she flew up into the air like a swallow. In an instant she had jumped over the censer, lowered her head and drunk from it, before landing nimbly on the window ledge. She was a master of lightness qinggong kung fu and swordsmanship, but she was not the strongest and realised it would have been beyond her to catch the censer and launch it back at the Taoist.

The censer, meanwhile, flew past Jade, through the window and out onto the crowded street. Alarmed, Qiu Chuji raced out to stop it, but with a whoosh! and a whistle, Ryder Han swept past the Taoist, calling his horse round onto the street. Everyone gathered upstairs ran to the window to watch Ryder Han career into the censer, knocking them both onto the back of his horse. The horse lurched forward and steadied itself, then turned back towards the tavern and started climbing the steps. The treads creaked and cracked under its weight, but somehow it made it upstairs.

Ryder Han was in fact balanced beneath the horse's belly, his left foot caught in a stirrup and his hands holding the censer on the saddle. The horse was fast and steady on the stairs. Once at the summit, Ryder Han flipped back onto the horse's back, leaned down and drank from the censer, before pushing it off the horse with his left arm. He then snorted, cracked his whip and jumped out of the window, landing the beast with ease on the street outside. Ryder Han then dismounted and walked back up the stairs, arm in arm with Zhu Cong.

"The Seven Heroes of the South are worthy of their reputation indeed," Qiu Chuji responded. "I am humbled by your skills. As long as Venerable Monk Scorched Wood vows to release the women, I will trouble him no further and leave."

"Elder Eternal Spring," Ke Zhen'e replied, "in this matter you are mistaken. Venerable Monk Scorched Wood has spent decades living a life free from bodily temptations, he is a virtuous and devout Buddhist whom we have long admired. Fahua Temple is also one of Jiaxing's most sacred Buddhist sites. How could he be hiding respectable women inside?"

"There are always those who claim good reputations falsely," Qiu Chuji declared.

"Elder Eternal Spring believes us to be lying?" Ryder Han was struggling to control his fury.

"I choose to believe my own eyes."

"So what is Elder Eternal Spring going to do now?" Ryder Han bellowed. The power of his voice more than made up for his short stature.

"This matter did not concern the Seven Heroes to begin with, but as you insist upon getting involved, you must be confident in your skills. I am a mere novice, so I can only suggest we fight it out. If I lose, the Seven Heroes may decide how the matter is to be settled."

"If this is Elder Eternal Spring's desired recourse, please lay out the rules," Ke Zhen'e said.

Qiu Chuji hesitated, then spoke. "There is no feeling of enmity between us and I have always admired the Seven Heroes of the South. To take up weapons or use our fists will only harm our friendship. We will do it like this . . . Innkeeper!" he called out. "Bring us fourteen large bowls!"

The innkeeper had been hiding downstairs, but as all was quiet upstairs he went to fetch the bowls.

Qiu Chuji instructed him to fill them from the censer. "A drinking competition," he said, turning to the Seven Freaks. "For every bowl you drink, I will have one, until we have our winner. How about that?"

Ryder Han and Zhang Asheng were drinkers, so they agreed.

"But this is one against seven," Ke Zhen'e contended. "It could never be an honourable win for us. Could Elder Eternal Spring devise another contest?"

"What makes you so sure you'll win?"

"Fine! Then I'll start!" Jade Han retorted. She was forthright by nature, particularly for a young woman. "I have never known anyone to treat us with such disrespect." She grabbed a bowl of wine and gulped it down in one, her snowy cheeks blooming cherry red.

"Miss Han is quite the brave young squire!" Qiu Chuji exclaimed. "Men, please!"

The other men each picked up a bowl and drank. Qiu Chuji downed bowl after bowl as each was emptied. The innkeeper was now in higher spirits and cheerfully refilled the bowls. Within moments, they had been drained again.

By the third round of drinks, Jade Han's hands were shaking so much she could not lift the bowl to her lips. Zhang Asheng took the bowl from her: "Sister, I will finish for you."

"Elder Qiu, is that acceptable?" she asked.

"Of course, I don't mind who drinks."

They drank another round before Gilden Quan was also forced to stop.

By now Qiu Chuji had downed twenty-eight bowls, and to the surprise of the Seven Freaks, he appeared entirely sober. Wanyan Honglie was still watching and was even more shocked. I hope they get this Taoist drunk and finish him off, he said to himself.

Gilden Quan calculated there were still Five Freaks left, each capable of drinking for two men, and good for at least another three, maybe four, rounds. Could the Taoist really take another twenty bowls of wine in his belly? The volume alone would be too much; victory had to be theirs. But at that moment, he happened to glance down at Qiu Chuji's feet, where a large puddle had formed.

"Second Brother," he whispered in Zhu Cong's ear. "Look!" He pointed down at the floor.

Zhu Cong glanced down. "This isn't good. He's using his inner strength to force the wine out through his feet."

"Amazing. What now?"

Zhu Cong paused to think. "With this little trick, he could drink a hundred more bowls. We need another contest."

He stepped back and without warning dropped through the hole in the floorboards he had created earlier. "I'm so drunk!" he called as he fell. They started another round, but by now the floor beneath Qiu Chuji's feet was soaked through as if a spring had appeared underneath the boards. Woodcutter Nan, Ryder Han and the others had also noticed, and were applauding such an amazing feat of inner strength, while Zhu Cong climbed back to join them.

Ryder Han placed his bowl back on the table, ready to admit defeat. But Zhu Cong looked at him meaningfully and turned to Qiu Chuji. "Elder Eternal Spring's display of inner strength is quite remarkable, we are indeed much in admiration. But we are still five against one. It does not seem an honourable fight."

This surprised Qiu Chuji. "Then what does Second Brother Zhu suggest?"

"Let me take you on, one on one," Zhu Cong said, smiling.

The others were puzzled. Zhu Cong was clearly the most drunk; why would he take the Taoist on by himself? But they also knew that, while their brother liked to appear the fool, in actual fact he had a belly full of tricks. He always had the best plan in any given situation.

"The Seven Heroes are competitive, that's for certain." Qiu Chuji chuckled. "How about this: if Second Brother Zhu and I can finish what's left of the wine, and neither passes out, then we'll say it is I who has lost."

The censer was still half full; they would have to have bellies like two laughing Buddhas to be able to finish it. But Zhu Cong was unconcerned. "I may not be famed for holding my liquor, but I did once drink a few sturdy men under the table while on my travels," he said, fluttering his fan in his right hand and waving the sleeve of his left. "In one!" he cried, and drank.

Together they drained bowl after bowl. "What a drinker!" Qiu Chuji exclaimed.

"I once went to India, where the king challenged me to a drinking competition with a water buffalo. They never determined who won."

Qiu Chuji knew he was being made fun of, but he didn't care. He did notice, however, that despite the nonsense and the wild gesticulating, Zhu Cong was keeping pace. He did not seem to be expelling the liquid by the use of inner strength, and his belly had swollen in size. Was he able to expand it with just the force of his mind?

"Two years ago I went to Siam," Zhu Cong continued. "That was even crazier. The Chancellor brought out an elephant to see who would win. The idiot drank seven barrels. How many do you think I had?"

Qiu Chuji knew Zhu Cong was making it up, but he could not help himself. "How many?"

Zhu Cong's tone suddenly turned solemn and, lowering his voice, he hissed, "Nine." Then, raising his voice again, he cried, "That's it, drink up!"

Zhu Cong's movements were growing ever wilder as he oscillated between drunk and crazy, but together they finished the wine. The other Freaks had no idea Zhu Cong could drink so much, but they were happy, if a little uneasy.

"Brother, what a feat. I salute you!" Qiu Chuji said, genuflecting in admiration.

Zhu Cong laughed. "Elder Eternal Spring used his inner strength, but I had to resort to external skills. Take a look!" He flipped backwards and landed, holding a wooden bucket. A quick swirl released the sweet aroma of Blushing Maiden rice wine. Only Ke Zhen'e knew what his martial brother had been doing, and Zhu Cong's stomach was now perfectly flat. The Seven Freaks of the South convulsed with laughter. Qiu Chuji's cheeks went pale.

He was Quick Hands Zhu Cong, sleight of hand was his forte. This was no new trick, it had been handed down from generation to generation. Always a flourish, always a back flip. One back flip, a gold fish. Another back flip, a bowl of water. It continues – another back flip, another bowl with a fish swimming inside. Audiences in raptures. Zhu Cong had fetched the bucket when he dropped through the hole in the floorboards, of course, and the mad gesticulating was designed to distract Qiu Chuji. A true magician's illusions cannot be deduced even with hundreds of eyes watching, and Qiu Chuji had not the merest notion that Zhu Cong would devise such a scheme.

"You call that drinking?" he said.

"And what about you? My wine is in this bucket, yours is on the floor. What's the difference?"

And he paced up and down, slipping on the puddle of wine at Qiu Chuji's feet. Qiu Chuji caught him. Zhu Cong jumped back and started walking in a circle. "Such a beautiful poem!" he cried out abruptly.

"Since ancient times mid-autumn's moon,

Radiant, as icy winds clean the night;

Heavy hangs the Milky Way

As water dragons vault the seas. "

He almost sang the lines, stretching out the words.

Qiu Chuji was speechless. That's the poem I started writing around Mid-Autumn Festival last year but did not finish, he thought to himself. I keep it on me at all times, as I can never think of the next four lines. But I have never shown it to anyone. He reached into his shirt, only to find the poem missing.

Zhu Cong spread the poem out on the table, a smile unfolding across his face. "Elder Eternal Spring is not only a peerless master of the martial arts, but his poetry is quite exquisite. Wondrous!"

I did not feel a thing, Qiu Chuji said to himself. What if he had tried stabbing me instead of merely stealing a poem? He could have killed me. But he showed mercy. This quelled his anxiety. "As Master Zhu finished the censer of wine with me, I will keep my word and admit defeat. Let it be known that, today, here in the Garden of the Eight Drunken Immortals, Qiu Chuji was defeated by the Seven Heroes of the South."

"Please, please," the Seven Freaks exclaimed politely. "It was all just a silly game."

"And Elder Eternal Spring displayed an inner strength none of us could ever hope to equal," Zhu Cong added.

"I may be admitting defeat," Qiu Chuji replied, "but the fact remains, those two widows of my friends must be rescued." He cupped his hands in a sign of respect and picked up the censer. "I'm going to Fahua Temple."

"But you have admitted defeat. How dare you continue to trouble Scorched Wood the Monk?" Ke Zhen'e was furious.

"They are in grave danger. Victory, defeat, it's all irrelevant. Great Hero Ke, if your friend was killed and his widow left to suffer all manner of insults, would you stand back and do nothing?" Suddenly his expression changed. There was a pause. "You called for backup? Even if you bring ten thousand men on ten thousand horses, I won't give in!"

"We are seven, no more," Zhang Asheng said. "Why would we call on anyone else?"

But Ke Zhen'e had also heard it. The clanging of metal. Men were approaching. "Everyone get back!"

They all heard it now and reached for their weapons. Moments later there came a clattering from below.

Men in Jin army regalia appeared at the top of the stairs.

Qiu Chuji respected the way the Seven Freaks of the South conducted themselves and had assumed they were ignorant of Scorched Wood's true nature. He had been careful not to offend them. But Jin soldiers? Rage surged inside him. "Scorched Wood!" he said. "Seven Freaks! Jin soldiers? How dare you claim to be righteous members of the wulin ?"

"Who called on the Jin?" Ryder Han cried back.

These men formed part of Wanyan Honglie's personal retinue. Rumours were spreading of a violent confrontation at the Garden of the Eight Drunken Immortals, and Wanyan Honglie had not returned.

"Excuse me if I don't stay any longer! But this is not over." Still carrying the censer, Qiu Chuji went towards the stairs.

"Reverend Qiu, there's been a misunderstanding!" Ke Zhen'e said, rising from his seat.

Qiu Chuji did not stop. "A misunderstanding? You're the heroes, you tell me why you called on Jin soldiers to help you."

"We didn't," Ke Zhen'e replied.

"I'm not blind," Qiu Chuji retorted.

If there was one thing Ke Zhen'e could not abide, it was being laughed at for his impairment. "But I am, it's true," he snarled, planting his iron staff on the floor.

Qiu Chuji said nothing, raised his left hand and struck his palm against the forehead of one of the Jin soldiers, killing him instantly. "That's what I can do!" And with a flick of his wrist, he pushed him down the stairs.

Horrified, the soldiers lunged at Qiu Chuji with their lances, but he flicked each one away without turning. The men were ready to charge when Wanyan Honglie called for them to stop.

"This loathsome Taoist is beyond belief," he said, turning to Ke Zhen'e. "Why don't you all join me for a drink and we can discuss how to deal with him?"

Ke Zhen'e was furious. "Get the hell out of here!"

Wanyan Honglie was visibly taken aback.

"Brother said, 'Get the hell out'!" Ryder Han cried, shunting Wanyan Honglie in the left hip with his right shoulder. Wanyan Honglie stumbled a few steps backwards, as the Seven Freaks and Scorched Wood fled.

Zhu Cong was last. He tapped Wanyan Honglie on the shoulder as he passed. "Have you sold the girl you kidnapped? Why not sell her to me?" Zhu Cong had not known who Wanyan Honglie was when they first met, but he had realised instantly Wanyan Honglie and Charity were not husband and wife. He had heard Wanyan boast of his wealth and decided to teach him a lesson. Now it transpired he was of some rank in the Jin army. Justice done then, surely?

Wanyan Honglie reached into his shirt and, as expected, his gold was gone. He was relieved he had not approached Ryder Han about joining him in the north. Given their fighting skills, he had no desire to reveal to the Seven Freaks that Madam Bao was with him. He rushed back to the inn. They would leave for the Jin capital that night.

3

THE NIGHT QIU CHUJI CHANCED UPON SKYFURY GUO AND Ironheart Yang, he had travelled back to Lin'an in some distress. He spent the next few days resting by West Lake. At its north end towers Ge Peak, where the Taoist Ge Hong made his renowned immortality pills. Qiu Chuji's mornings were spent sightseeing and his afternoons in the temple practising martial arts and reading from the Taoist canon.

As he was strolling along Qinghefang Lane one day, he noticed a small group of soldiers staggering towards him, swinging their helmets and dragging their armour and broken weapons behind them. They had just been defeated in battle. We are not at war with the Jin at the moment, Qiu Chuji thought, and I have not heard talk of bandits lately. What battle have they been fighting? He asked people on the street but no-one knew. His curiosity piqued, he followed the soldiers back to their camp at Command Post Six.

Late that night, Qiu Chuji crept into the camp. There he found a soldier and dragged him outside into a nearby alley for interrogation. The soldier, fast asleep only moments before, now had a blade at his throat. He told Qiu Chuji everything he knew about the events in Ox Village, including Skyfury Guo's death and Ironheart Yang's injuries. It was unlikely Ironheart had survived, but no-one knew of his whereabouts. The wives were captured, but their captors had been ambushed by another group of men while riding back. A bloody fight ensued and they lost many of their number.

Qiu Chuji grew ever more furious as the story went on, but the soldier had just been following orders. There was no use getting angry with him. "Who is your commander?"

"Justice Duan."

Early the next morning, a pole was erected in front of the camp, bearing a severed head. A warning. Qiu Chuji recognised it at once; it was Skyfury Guo. These men were descended from loyal patriots, he said to himself. They invited you to drink with them and yet you repaid their kindness by bringing death upon them and destroying their families. Picking up a stone, he flung it at the flagpole, splintering it.

He waited until darkness, climbed the pole and took down Guo's head. He then went to the shores of West Lake, where he buried it. Placing his palms together, he bowed, and with tears spilling down his cheeks he made a promise: "Brother Guo, Brother Yang, I swore I would pass my kung fu skills on to your children. When I make a promise, I keep it. If I don't make martial arts heroes of them, I will not be fit to face you both in the afterlife."

First, he would find Justice Duan and kill him. Then he would rescue the widows and settle them somewhere safe so they could give birth and continue the Guo and Yang family lines.

For two nights he searched Command Post Six, but Justice Duan was nowhere to be found. Perhaps he lived in luxury, rather than alongside his soldiers? On the third night, he made his way to the commander's residence: "Justice Duan, I know you're in there! Come out at once!"

Duan was inside and happened to be questioning Lily Li over the disappearance of her husband's head – which bandits did Guo count among his friends? – when he was interrupted by the disturbance outside. He poked his head through the window and saw a Taoist breaking through a crowd of his men, a soldier in each hand.

"Loose your arrows!" those of rank were shouting, but the men either had no bows or else no arrows.

Justice Duan was furious, drew the sabre from his belt and ran out. "Is this a rebellion?"

He brandished the weapon at Qiu Chuji, but the Taoist stopped, cast aside the soldiers and grabbed Duan's wrist. "Tell me, where is that foul dog, Justice Duan?"

A searing pain shot through Duan's wrist and body. "Is Your Reverence looking for Commander Duan? He . . . You'll find him on a pleasure boat on the West Lake. I'm not sure if he plans to return this evening."

Taking this stranger at his word, Qiu Chuji released him. Duan then turned to two nearby soldiers. "Take the Reverend to the lake. He's looking for Commander Duan."

The soldiers hesitated.

"Hurry!" Duan growled. "Or the commander will be angry!"

The two men understood, turned and left. Qiu Chuji followed.

Justice Duan was too frightened to remain at the camp, so he gathered some men and Lily Li, and hurried to Command Post Eight. The commanders frequently enjoyed an evening drink together. Duan's friend was furious when he heard what had happened to him. But just as the eighth commander was about to order some of his men to track down this vile Taoist and have him killed, an altercation was heard outside. The Taoist had come to them. The soldiers must have cracked under Qiu Chuji's questioning.

Justice Duan ran, taking his men and Lily Li. This time they made for Command Post Two at Quanjie, outside the city. It was more remote and therefore less easy to find. Duan was frightened; the image of the Taoist fighting his way through a whole crowd of soldiers would not leave him. His wrist was also throbbing and beginning to swell. The army doctor examined it and determined he had broken two bones. After being treated with ointment and fitted with a splint, Duan decided he could not return to his encampment, but would have to stay at Command Post Two for the night.

Duan slept soundly until midnight, when he was awoken by more shouting outside. Reports came that one of the sentries had vanished.

He leapt out of bed, sensing that the guards must have been captured by Qiu Chuji. As long as he stayed in army camps the Taoist was going to find him. And he was too skilled a fighter for Duan. So what now? The Taoist seemed determined to catch him. Duan's men might not be able to protect him. As panic started to take hold of him, he remembered his uncle, a monk of exceptional martial skill now residing in Cloudy Perch Temple. The Taoist's arrival had to have something to do with Skyfury Guo's death, so he would take Lily Li with him for security. He forced the widow to disguise herself as a soldier and dragged her out into the night.

HIS UNCLE had assumed holy robes many years before, taking the name Withered Wood. He was now Abbot of Cloudy Perch Temple, but had once been an officer in the army and received his martial arts training from the Masters of the Immortal Cloud Sect , a branch of the Shaolin school dominant in the areas of the jianghu straddling southern Zhejiang and Fujian.

Withered Wood had always despised his nephew and did as much as he could to avoid any association with him, so when Duan arrived at the temple door in the middle of the night, his response was less than welcoming. "What are you doing here?"

Duan knew the extent of his uncle's hatred for the Jin, so he could not possibly tell him the truth: that he had helped the enemy kill two patriots. Uncle would have him killed there and then. But Duan had spent the journey concocting a story. He knelt before his uncle, and under the monk's cold gaze, kowtowed. "Uncle, I beg for your help. I am being threatened."

"You're an officer in the army, people thank the heavens above for every day that you're not bullying them. Who would trouble you?"

"Indeed, I deserve it," Duan replied, putting on his best performance. "Uncle is right. Some friends and I went to Blushing Cherry Lodge by Lingqing Bridge the day before yesterday to enjoy the atmosphere."

Withered Wood snorted. The story had not started well. The ladies of Blushing Cherry Lodge did not provide the kind of atmosphere respectable men enjoyed.

"I usually visit one girl in particular, my mistress I suppose. She was drinking and singing with me, when without warning a Taoist came bursting in. As soon as he heard my girl singing, he demanded she join him instead . . ."

"Ha! Nonsense. Men of holy robes do not frequent such obscene places."

"Exactly. I made some comment to that effect and ordered him to leave. But the Taoist turned nasty and started cursing me. Then he said I shouldn't bother picking fights when I'd be losing my head soon anyway."

"What did he mean by that?"

"He said the Jin will be crossing the Yangtze within days and are going to kill the entire Song army."

"He said that?"

"Yes. I got angry and started arguing with him. Even if the Jin did come south, I said, we would fight to defend this great country. And there was nothing to say we would be defeated."

Justice Duan's words were calculated to rouse emotion in his uncle, and the Abbot nodded as his nephew spoke. These were the only sensible words to have come out of his nephew's mouth since the day he emerged from his mother's womb.

Duan saw they were having the desired effect, so continued. "We then got into a fight, but as you know, I'm no match for a Taoist trained in the martial arts. He pursued me and I had nowhere to go. Uncle, you're my only hope."

"I am a monk," Withered Wood said, shaking his head, "I cannot understand these petty fights over a woman's attentions."

"I ask for Uncle's help just this once. It will never happen again."

Withered Wood could not help but think of his brothers in the army and fury rose within him. "Fine, you can hide here in the temple for a few days. But no trouble."

Justice Duan nodded.

"You're an army officer." Withered Wood sighed before continuing. "Such debauched behaviour. What will we do if the Jin really do decide to cross into the south? Back when I was a soldier . . ."

Duan may have threatened Lily Li into silence, but she was listening to every word.

4

THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON AN ATTENDING MONK RAN IN to speak with the Abbot.

"There's a Taoist in a rage outside. He says Commander Duan must come out at once."

Withered Wood sent for Justice Duan.

"It's him, the Taoist," Duan said, trembling.

"What a despicable excuse for a monk. To which sect does he belong?"

"I have no idea where this crook is from. I don't think his martial arts are anything special. But he's strong, to be sure. Stronger than me."

"Then I shall speak to him," Withered Wood said, and made for the Great Hall.

Qiu Chuji was just then engaged in a tussle with the guards, trying to push his way into the Inner Hall. Withered Wood walked up to him and, using his neigong inner strength, tried to push Qiu out with minimal pressure to the shoulder. To his surprise, however, the Taoist's upper arm felt like fresh cotton. He tried to pull back but it was too late; he was stumbling backwards, and with a peng! his back smacked against the altar table, which collapsed, the incense burner and candles crashing down around him.

"What brings Your Reverence to my humble temple, may I ask?" Withered Wood said from where he sat, smarting.

"I am looking for a beggar by the name of Duan."

Withered Wood understood the extent of the Taoist's kung fu, so tried another tactic. "We spiritual men must show mercy and benevolence. Why is the monk behaving as if he were no more enlightened than a mere farmer?"

Qiu Chuji ignored him and strode into the Inner Hall. Justice Duan had already escaped into a secret chamber with Lily Li. Cloudy Perch Temple was fogged with plumes of incense as worshippers crowded the halls for spring pilgrimage season. He would struggle to find the commander in there. Qiu Chuji snorted and left.

Justice Duan emerged from his hiding place.

"Who is he?" Withered Wood said. "He could have killed me if he'd wanted to."

"He's an agent working on behalf of the Jin. Why else would he be picking a fight with an officer of the Song?" Duan replied.

At that moment, the attendant monk came back in to confirm that the Taoist had left.

"Did he say anything as he went?" Withered Wood said.

"He said he would not rest until the temple had surrendered Commander Duan."

Withered Wood glared at his nephew. "You're not telling me the whole truth. The Taoist is accomplished in the martial arts; you would never come out of an encounter with him alive." He paused briefly before continuing. "You can't stay here. I only know of one person who could fight this Taoist: a fellow disciple of my Master. His name is Scorched Wood. I think you should seek shelter with him for a while."

Withered Wood provided Duan with a letter and hired a boat to take him through the night to Jiaxing to seek refuge with Scorched Wood of Fahua Temple.

5

SCORCHED WOOD COULD BARELY COMPREHEND WHAT HAD just happened. He left the Garden of the Eight Drunken Immortals with the Seven Freaks and together they made their way back to his temple.

"My martial brother Withered Wood sent his nephew Justice Duan and another young man to me with a letter and asked me to protect them," he explained. "Elder Qiu is one of the Seven Masters of the Quanzhen Sect, who all trained under the great shifu Double Sun. Among them Elder Qiu is said to be the best. He may be a bit coarse, but he doesn't seem the type of man to stir up trouble without good cause. He can bear no grudge against an old monk like me. There must have been some grave misunderstanding."

"Let us speak with the two young men and ask them what's going on," Gilden Quan suggested.

"Good idea. They haven't told me their story yet," Scorched Wood said.

He was just about to send for Justice Duan when Ke Zhen'e spoke. "Qiu Chuji has quite the temper. He clearly doesn't think much of us wanderers of the southern wulin . The Quanzhen Sect may command a great reputation in the north, but they can't behave like that down here. A martial challenge, that's the answer. We take him on, one at a time. Only the honourable need apply."

"We should fight him together," Zhu Cong said.

"Eight against one? Doesn't sound very honourable to me," Ryder Han said.

"We're not going to kill him, only calm him enough so that he will listen to what the Venerable Monk has to say," Gilden Quan said.

"Won't it damage our reputation if word gets out among our friends in the wulin that Scorched Wood the Monk and the Seven Freaks fought Qiu Chuji together, eight against one?" Jade Han said.

Just then came a terrible clanging, a bell in the Great Hall.

"He's here," Ke Zhen'e said, jumping to his feet.

They ran towards the sound. Another clang, and then the sound of metal tearing. It was him, slamming the bronze censer against the large bell which hung from the centre of the ceiling. Qiu Chuji's whiskers stood spiky like a porcupine, his eyes fixed and round. The Seven Freaks weren't to know this was extreme behaviour for the otherwise mild Taoist. Days had passed with no sign of the traitor Justice Duan and anger had been smouldering inside him.

Qiu Chuji's frustration was erupting.

The Seven Quanzhen Masters' reputations only made the Seven Freaks even more determined to fight. Had Qiu Chuji been just another unknown wanderer of the wulin they might have been content to resolve the dispute by other means.

"Sister, we'll go first!" Ryder Han cried to Jade, who was in fact his cousin on his father's side. Ryder Han was the most impatient of the Seven Freaks. He pulled the Golden Dragon whip from his belt and performed a move known as Wind Disperses Swirling Clouds at Qiu Chuji's hand. Jade Han drew a long sword and lunged at Qiu Chuji's back. But the Taoist's reactions were quick, twisting his wrist so that the whip struck the censer instead, and dipping his body to let Jade Han's sword pass by him.

In ancient times, the two southern kingdoms of Yue and Wu were long at war. The King of Yue, Gou Qian, kept himself ready for combat at all times by sleeping on a bed of straw and drinking from a gall bladder. But the Wu army was universally acknowledged to be superior, mainly due to General Wu Zixu's strategic prowess, learned under the master tactician Sun Tzu. One day, however, a beautiful young woman, accomplished in the art of the sword, arrived in Jiaxing, then located just inside the Yue border. One of the kingdom's highest-ranking ministers, Fan Li, asked if she would teach them her skills so they might defeat the Wu. So it happened that Jiaxing came to be the home of this particular sword technique, passed from master to disciple, generation to generation. It was, however, designed for battle, for slicing generals and puncturing horses. When used against the masters of the wulin , it lacked the necessary agility and forcefulness. It was not until the dying years of the Tang dynasty that the repertoire came to be expanded by a swordsman familiar with the martial arts of ancient times, who added his own moves and made it faster and more complex.

Jade Han had studied the technique to such a level as to earn her the nickname Maiden of the Yue Sword.

It took no more than a few moves, however, for Qiu Chuji to assess the extent of her skills. All he needed to defeat her was speed; she was fast, but he could be faster. With the censer in his right hand, he blocked Ryder Han's Golden Dragon whip and with his left palm he struck Jade Han, seizing her sword. Within seconds she had been beaten back, taking shelter behind a statue of the Buddha.

Woodcutter Nan and Zhang Asheng rushed forward. Qiu Chuji's left palm shot out at Zhang Asheng's face. Zhang bent backwards, but the move was a diversion. Qiu Chuji's foot struck Zhang's wrist, sending a sharp pain up his arm and forcing him to drop his knife. Zhang was better with his bare fists, however. Balancing on his left foot, he faked a right, roared, and punched with his left with all his strength.

"Beautiful!" Qiu Chuji said as he dodged to the side. "Such a shame!"

"What do you mean?"

"You are so accomplished and yet insist upon associating with that evil monk and living in thrall to the Jin."

"You are the most brazen of traitors," Zhang cried. "You're the thrall!" He struck three times at Qiu Chuji, each blow dodged or blocked with use of the censer. Two of Zhang's punches clanged squarely against the bronze vessel.

The Seven Freaks were losing, despite their four-to-one advantage. Zhu Cong gestured at Gilden Quan and together they launched themselves at the Taoist. Gilden Quan always carried a large steel balance, the arm of which could be used as a spear or club, the hook as a flying claw, and the weight as a hammer on a chain. One scale, therefore, became three weapons. Zhu Cong, in turn, preferred to strike the metal frame of his broken oilpaper fan against his opponent's pressure points, while dodging dancing weapons.

Qiu Chuji spun the censer, angling it in front of him like a shield. Using his free hand, he chopped and grabbed, slipping punches through the weaknesses in the Freaks' defences. The weight of the vessel may have slowed his movements, but it also made it almost impossible for the Seven Freaks to land a blow, which gradually drained their strength.

Scorched Wood looked on, growing ever more anxious his friends might get hurt. "Stop, everyone!" he cried. "Listen to me, please!"

But men of the wulin do not stop mid-fight.

"You good-for-nothing!" Qiu Chuji shouted back. "No-one wants to listen to your prattle. Watch this instead!" Alternating at speed between punches and slaps, in a move known as the Flying Mountain, Qiu Chuji chopped at Zhang Asheng.

"Your Reverence, please stop!" Scorched Wood cried.

But with two more fighters yet to join in, Qiu Chuji was in fact growing tired and afraid; he had no desire to die in this crumbling temple deep in the swampy south. Yet now he understood his opponents' weaknesses he had to push on.

Zhang Asheng was specially trained in Iron Shirt kung fu, by which he had toughened his skin to withstand the sharpest weapons. He was used to wrestling bulls bare-chested in the slaughterhouse, so his muscles were as hard as if covered in a thick layer of hide. Gathering the qi to his shoulders, he prepared himself for Qiu Chuji's attack. "Go on!"

Qiu Chuji's palm struck his shoulder, and with a crack! the bone in Zhang's upper arm snapped.

Zhu Cong tapped his metal fan at Qiu Chuji's Jade Pivot pressure point just below the collarbone, trying to break the flow of the attack.

But Qiu Chuji was energised by his small victory and made a grab at the weapons aimed at him.

"Hai! " Gilden Quan cried as Qiu Chuji seized one end of his scales. With a tug, Qiu Chuji pulled him closer. Blocking Woodcutter Nan and Zhu Cong with the spinning censer, he then struck Gilden Quan on the crown of the head.

At this point Ryder Han and Jade leapt in, aiming at Qiu Chuji's chest with their weapons. Qiu Chuji was forced to dodge to the side, letting go of Quan. Quan was dripping with sweat, but before he could get clear he felt a sharp kick to his side. He fell to the ground and was unable to get up again.

Scorched Wood the Monk had not wished to fight the Taoist and somehow had hoped to calm him with words. But he could not stand by as his friends were being hurt, not when they had come to his aid. Rolling up his sleeves, he picked up a piece of charred firewood and sprang at Qiu Chuji's armpit.

But Qiu Chuji sensed the move. He's going for my vital points, he realised, focusing.

Judging from the cries and moans, Ke Zhen'e, meanwhile, understood that two of his martial brothers had been badly hurt. He took up his metal staff and was about to join the fray when Gilden Quan called out, "Brother, your iron devilnuts, one in the direction of the Prospering and another towards the Small Surpassing!" Before he could finish, Ke had already fired the two metal projectiles, one between Qiu Chuji's eyebrows and the other at his right hip bone.

Qiu Chuji deflected them with the spinning censer, but he was surprised by their weight and the accuracy of Ke Zhen'e's aim. These weapons were unique to Ke Zhen'e, with points shaped like bat wings, only sharper, and quite unlike the round water chestnuts that grew in his hometown around South Lake. Ke had learned to use them before he was blinded.

The other Freaks had cleared the way. Gilden Quan continued shouting instructions, using points of the wheel from the I'Ching to denote directions. "Towards the Inner Truth, and the Radiance. Good. Now he's at the Darkening Light." After so many years of practice, it was as if the martial brothers were seeing with the same pair of eyes. Gilden Quan was the only one of the Freaks who could guide him in this way.

Within seconds Ke Zhen'e had fired a dozen iron devilnuts, forcing Qiu Chuji back as he fended them off. But still the Taoist was unharmed.

He can hear Brother Quan's instructions as well as I can and can prepare, it suddenly occurred to Ke Zhen'e. No wonder I'm not hitting him. Gilden Quan's voice was fading, and in between calls Ke could hear his brother moaning from the pain. He had not heard anything from Brother Zhang in a while. He could not even be sure he was still alive.

"The Fellowship . . . Aim . . ."

But instead Ke Zhen'e threw four devilnuts at once, two at the Self-Restraint and the Diminishing to the right of the Fellowship, and the other two at the Abundance and Radiance positions on the left.

Qiu Chuji stepped to the left in anticipation of Gilden Quan's instructions.

At that moment, two yelps.

One of the devilnuts struck Qiu Chuji's right shoulder. Ke Zhen'e fired another in the direction of the Diminishing and instead hit Jade Han in the back.

The blow did not hurt exactly, but Qiu Chuji started to feel numb in his upper arm. Poison! he realised in surprise. A chill spread to Qiu Chuji's heart, but rather than surrender, he drew all his last strength and launched himself at Woodcutter Nan.

Woodcutter Nan saw the attack coming, planted his feet firmly, and taking up his carrying pole blocked the Taoist with a Lock Across the River. But rather than withdraw his attack, Qiu Chuji struck the centre of the pole with a hai! Vibrations shot through Nan, tearing the skin between his thumb and forefinger on both hands. Blood spurted everywhere and the pole fell to the ground with a loud clatter. The punch caused Nan serious internal injuries, his legs shook and spots flickered before his eyes. A sweet, metallic taste gurgled in his throat, and scarlet spit stained his clothes as he coughed.

Qiu Chuji was losing sensation in his shoulder and was struggling to keep the censer aloft. Once again gathering his qi , he performed a sweeping kick, which Ryder Han jumped.

"Where are you going?" Qiu Chuji cried, tipping the censer over. Ryder Han tried to back flip in mid-air, but it came straight for him. He wrapped his head in his arms and curled into a ball. The censer crashed onto the floor, trapping him inside.

Qiu Chuji drew his sword. With a tap of the foot, he shot straight up and sliced through the rope attaching the giant bell to the ceiling. It must have weighed over one thousand jin , but Qiu Chuji guided it with the gentlest of pushes. The room shook as it landed on top of the censer. There was no way Ryder Han could escape now.

Qiu Chuji was a little sore after these exertions, and beads of sweat the size of soybeans clung to his forehead.

"Throw down your sword!" Ke Zhen'e cried. "Or you won't leave here alive."

But the evil monk Scorched Wood was colluding with the Jin and keeping women hidden in his temple, and Qiu Chuji was inclined to believe the Seven Freaks were not much better. Not everyone could be deserving of their reputation. Qiu Chuji would rather die than bow before these traitors and surrender. He held his sword high.

Only Ke Zhen'e and Zhu Cong were still capable of fighting. Using his staff, Ke Zhen'e blocked the exit.

Qiu Chuji was determined to get out. He thrust his sword at Ke Zhen'e's face, but Flying Bat Ke sensed the whoosh! of air as the sword approached. Sword and staff interlocked, and to his surprise, Qiu Chuji nearly lost his weapon. Is the blind man's inner strength more powerful than mine? He withdrew his sword and tried once more, and was met yet again with the staff. Only now did he realise how much power he had lost in his right shoulder; it was not that Ke was particularly strong, but rather that he, Qiu Chuji, was growing weaker. He swapped his sword to his left hand and performed a move he had learned as a young student but had never before used in combat: the Sword of Mutual Demise. With a flash of the blade, he struck simultaneously at Ke Zhen'e, Zhu Cong and Scorched Wood's vital points.

The move was a tacit acknowledgement of relative weakness, and involved aiming at an enemy's acupressure points. It took great skill, but nevertheless utilised the same essential techniques as common street scraps between bandits and hooligans. Many years previously, the Quanzhen Sect faced a particularly fierce adversary who had lived many years in the untamed west. Only their shifu could have defeated him, but he had long since passed away. The Seven Masters knew this man alone could destroy their sect and they feared his return to the Middle Kingdom. They did have one move against him, the Plough Formation, but it required all seven Masters at once to be effective. The Sword of Mutual Demise was designed for lone combat against precisely this great master of kung fu. The strategy was to ensure his death through one's own, as a sacrifice to protect one's brothers. Qiu Chuji would not normally need to use such an extreme move on the Seven Freaks, but he was growing weaker from the poison. It was time to make use of his Master's greatest lesson.

Ten moves into the sequence, Ke Zhen'e was hit in the leg.

"Brother Ke, Brother Zhu, why not let the Taoist go?" Scorched Wood cried, distracting Ke Zhen'e long enough for Qiu to strike him in the ribs. Ke fell, screaming in pain.

Qiu Chuji was struggling to keep his balance. The whites of Zhu Cong's eyes were shot through with blood, but he continued to fight, shouting and insulting Qiu Chuji as he circled him. Ke Zhen'e could not place the sound made by the Taoist's sword, and he was caught again, this time in the right leg. Ke Zhen'e toppled forward with a thud.

"You dog, you dirty Taoist!" Zhu Cong shouted. "The poison will soon reach your heart. You'll see."

Qiu Chuji's brow scrunched with rage and he stumbled at Zhu Cong, clutching his sword in his left hand. But Zhu Cong was trained in lightness kung fu. He took off, flying around the Great Hall, bouncing off the many statues of the Buddha dotted around it.

Qiu Chuji stopped, panting. His strength was waning, his vision becoming blurred. His focus turned to finding an escape route.

Then, a thud.

One of Zhu Cong's cloth shoes hit him with considerable force in the back.

Qiu Chuji swayed, and a blanket of mist clouded his eyes. He was losing consciousness.

Thud!

This time it hit him against the back of the head: a wooden fish, one of the percussive instruments the monks used while chanting the scriptures. Zhu Cong had found it by one of the Buddhas. Such a powerful blow to the head would have killed most people, but Qiu Chuji had spent years training his inner strength. But this time his vision went black. This is it, he said to himself. Master Eternal Spring has today met his fate at the hands of these shameless villains! His legs buckled, and he collapsed to the floor.

Zhu Cong approached Qiu Chuji and stretched his fan to tap the pressure point in the centre of his chest. At that moment, Qiu Chuji's left hand twitched. Zhu Cong knew he was in trouble. He blocked his heart with his right arm, but felt a force in his abdomen that sent him backwards, blood spraying from his mouth. He landed with a crash.

Qiu Chuji could barely move.

THE OTHER monks of Fahua Temple were not practised in kung fu and had been ignorant of their Abbot's skills, choosing to flee rather than take part. But since silence had descended upon the Great Hall, the bravest among them ventured to peek inside, only to see the floor strewn with bodies and the hall painted in blood. Horrified, they ran to find Justice Duan.

Justice Duan was still hiding in the cellar. That the fight had turned out to be so bloody only pleased him, and he sent one of the monks back to check if the Taoist was among the injured, or perhaps even dead. Only once the monk had returned to report that Qiu Chuji was lying motionless, his eyes shut, did Duan feel safe enough to emerge with Lily Li.

He approached Qiu Chuji and prodded him with his foot. The Taoist replied with an almost imperceptible moan. He was still alive. Duan pulled the dagger from his belt and leaned in. "You filthy Taoist!" he snarled. "You've chased and harassed me. Today I take my revenge. Prepare to join your friends in the next world."

"You mustn't hurt him," Scorched Wood called from where he lay.

"Why not?"

"He's a good man. Just a little short-tempered," Scorched Wood said. "There was a misunderstanding."

Justice Duan scoffed and aimed his dagger at Qiu Chuji's face. Qiu Chuji's eyes remained closed, but unbeknownst to Duan, he was gathering his qi . With a sudden movement he struck at Duan's shoulder, cracking the bones with a deafening crunch. Duan's dagger spun across the floor.

Scorched Wood summoned the last of his strength and threw the piece of burnt wood in his hand at Duan. Duan tried to duck, but he was too slow, and the lump of wood struck him in the corner of the mouth, knocking three teeth clean out of his gums. The pain was intense and Duan was furious. He snatched the dagger from the floor, and ran at the Abbot, aiming the blade at his head. One of the younger monks grabbed him by the arm and another around the neck. Enraged, Duan turned the knife on them.

Qiu Chuji, Scorched Wood and the Seven Freaks were too badly injured to do anything other than watch.

Just then, a howl.

"You filthy villain!" It was Lily Li. "Stop!" She had been waiting all this time to get her revenge. Now her captor was about to kill yet more righteous men, she could wait no longer. She ran and jumped up onto his back and wrestled with all her strength. With one broken arm, Duan could not put up much of a fight.

She was dressed in army uniform, so the others had assumed her to be part of Duan's retinue. Her attack took them all by surprise. But it was Ke Zhen'e who first realised this young man was in fact a woman, just from her voice. "Venerable Monk Scorched Wood," he said, turning to the Abbot, "you've misled us and put us in grave danger. You had a woman hiding in your temple all along!"

Scorched Wood realised at once what had happened. This one small oversight had not only caused injury to himself, but also great harm to his friends. He planted his fist on the floor and, pushing himself to his feet, spread his hands and rushed at Justice Duan. Again Duan managed to dive out of the way, but Scorched Wood's approach was clumsy and he ran head first into one of the temple columns and was killed instantly.

Justice Duan was terror-stricken. He could stay not a moment longer. Grabbing Lily Li, he ran.

"Help! No! He's kidnapping me!"

Lily Li's shouts faded into the distance.