For the Maiden

1

THE SIX FREAKS OF THE SOUTH AND GUO JING KEPT MOVING as long as there was light, making their way in a south-easterly direction out of the grasslands.

They were heading for the fortress town of Kalgan, some four hundred li north of the Jin capital. It was the first time Guo Jing had laid his feet on Chinese soil and there was a lightness in his heart. Everything was new to him. He squeezed his thighs and felt the wind whistle in his ears as his horse bolted along coppiced roads and past small brick houses, until Ulaan stopped by an inky stream of flowing water next to an inn. Guo Jing dismounted to wait for his shifus .

Taking pity on the tired horse, Guo Jing took out a piece of cloth and proceeded to wipe the sweat from its coat. Quickly he pulled back in astonishment; the material had turned a crimson red. He wiped the young horse's right shoulder and found still yet more blood. Tears of self-reproach collected in his eyes. Why had he not stopped earlier to let the animal rest? Had his neglect caused permanent damage? He threw his arms around its neck. But Ulaan seemed to be in fine spirits and not in the least bit of pain.

Guo Jing surveyed the road to see if Ryder Han was approaching so that he might tend to the colt. Just then he heard the sweet tinkle of bells followed by the sound of four camels plodding towards him from the main roadway. Two were snowy in complexion and all four were straddled by men also dressed in white. They approached the inn and the riders drew their mounts to a halt. Guo Jing noticed the finely embroidered cushions padding the saddles.

Guo Jing was a child of the steppe's deserts, but white camels were rare and he had never seen such fine animals. He could not take his eyes off them. The riders were only a few years older than him, in their early twenties he guessed, each one as delicately handsome as the last. They leapt from the camels and made for the inn. Guo Jing was enraptured by their expensive robes, fringed at the neck by the finest fox fur. One of the young men glanced across at Guo Jing, blushed, and lowered his head. Another glared at him and growled, "What are you staring at, little boy?"

Flustered, Guo Jing looked away. He heard them laugh. "Congratulations," one of them mocked in a girlish voice. "He likes you!"

Guo Jing's ears burned and he was just deciding whether he should leave when Ryder Han came clattering towards him on his horse, Wind Chaser. Guo Jing quickly explained that Ulaan was bleeding.

"How could that be?" Ryder Han approached the animal and stroked its shoulder, before lifting his hand up to the light and breaking into laugher. "That's not blood, it's sweat!"

"Sweat?" Guo Jing stammered. "Red sweat?"

"Young man, this is a most valuable horse, I thought you knew that."

Guo Jing was just relieved he had not injured it. "But, Third Shifu , how can sweat look like blood?"

"My own late shifu once told me that, long ago, way out west in the Kingdom of Fergana , they kept celestial horses whose sweat was red as blood, and who could run as if possessed of wings. Of course, no-one has ever seen one and I assumed it was just a legend. I certainly never imagined you would end up riding one!"

The other Freaks had arrived in time to hear Ryder Han's story. Together they went inside and found a table, and Zhu Cong, who was well read in the classics, began to explain. "The story appears in the Records of the Grand Historian , as well as the Book of Han . Imperial envoy Zhang Qian returned from his expedition to the western lands and reported to Emperor Han Wudi that he had seen just such a heavenly horse in the Kingdom of Fergana. The Emperor ordered a life-sized version to be cast from one thousand jin of gold and sent it back to the west in exchange for one of the animals. The King sent back word: 'The Fergana Celestial Horses are treasures of the Kingdom and cannot be gifted to Han Chinese.' The envoy, considering himself able to speak on behalf of his Emperor and the mighty dynasty of the Han, replied in anger and with words most uncouth, striking the golden horse right there in the King's Great Hall. Incensed by such rudeness, the King ordered the envoy's decapitation and confiscated the Han Emperor's gift."

"What happened next?" Guo Jing sat wide-eyed and watched as Zhu Cong paused to sip some tea. The four young men in white were similarly mesmerised by the story from where they sat at a nearby table.

"Third Brother," Zhu Cong said as he lowered his teacup, "you are the horseman among us. Do you know where the Celestial Horses came from?"

"My late shifu told me they were a cross between domesticated and wild horses."

"Correct. According to the historical records, wild horses were known to gallop all over the mountains outside the capital Ershi, but they were impossible to catch. The people of Fergana, however, came up with a most ingenious idea. One spring evening, they led some of their female horses to the foot of the mountains and let them free. They were later rounded up and brought back to the city, where they gave birth to these most precious beasts. Guo Jing, young man, your horse might have travelled thousands of miles from the Fergana valley."

"What did the Emperor do?" Jade Han asked, eager to hear the rest of the story. "Did he give up?"

"Give up? A Chinese Emperor? No, he sent tens of thousands of troops to Ershi under the command of General Li Guangli, giving him the title of Commander of Ershi. But once they passed through the treacherous Jiayu pass, they had to travel through desert. Supplies soon ran out and they lost most of their men before being forced to retreat back to Dunhuang, where they could send to the Emperor for help. In his anger, the Emperor sent envoys to the pass with swords and ordered them to chop off the heads of any soldiers who dared to retreat back into Chinese land. General Li was stuck in Dunhuang."

At that moment, a faint sound of bells interrupted Zhu Cong's story as more camel riders arrived at the inn. This time only one of the animals was white. Guo Jing watched as four more handsome young men in white robes fringed with fox fur entered. They joined the others at their table and ordered more food.

"Of course, the Emperor felt the humiliation most acutely, so he ordered another two hundred thousand men to be dispatched, this time with adequate supplies. But even in such numbers, the Emperor feared they were too few, so he ordered all criminals, petty officials, merchants and sons-in-law who lived with the families of their wives to report for service. He then chose two of the Empire's finest horsemen, investing one with the title Legate of the Whip and another Legate of the Rein, and provided them with only the best horses. The Han Emperor despised merchants, Sixth Brother Quan, it wouldn't have been a good time for you. But, Third Brother Han, you would have been most in demand." Zhu Cong chuckled.

"Why were sons-in-law who lived with their wives' families to be punished?" Jade Han asked.

"In those days, men who married into a woman's family did so only out of poverty. In fact, they were bought by the families as slaves. Recruiting these men into the army was a way of punishing the poor. General Li and his men besieged Ershi for forty days, killing thousands until the nobles of Fergana beheaded their king in fright and surrendered. They presented the Celestial Horses to the Han as a gift. The Emperor was delighted and General Li and his men were rewarded with gold and titles. So many perished, and for what exactly? Emperor Wudi gathered his highest officials in a banquet and wrote a song, declaring only the dragon fit to befriend such a fine beast."

The camel riders listened silently to Zhu Cong's story, casting envious glances every now and again at the wine-coloured horse outside.

"But it's hard to believe that such a wonderful animal could come from cross-breeding with wild horses alone. And since they only obtained a few, they were cross-bred again with our local horses, meaning that, within a few generations, their sweat was no longer red like blood."

The Freaks and Guo Jing continued chatting as they ate their noodles.

Whispering together, the camel riders on the other table started to form a plan. But what they did not know was that Ke Zhen'e could hear every word, despite the distance between their tables and the general hubbub of the inn.

"We have to do it before he gets on the horse, otherwise we'll have no chance of catching him."

"But it's too crowded. And he's not alone."

"If the others get involved, we'll kill them all!"

Why were these young girls so vicious? Ke Zhen'e thought to himself as he continued to slurp his noodles, never giving any sign that he could hear them.

"We shall offer this magnificent horse to the young Master and he can ride it north to the capital," one of them said. "He will be even more admired and no-one will even think of the Ginseng Codger or Lama Supreme Wisdom again!"

Ke Zhen'e had heard of Lama Supreme Wisdom Lobsang Choden Rinpoche, of course, a man of great learning from an esoteric school of Buddhism in the northern plains of Kokonor, known across the south and west for his Five Finger Blade kung fu. The Ginseng Codger came from beyond the Great Wall, far up in the north.

"Master doesn't need this horse to strike fear into the people!" another of the company said.

"Of course not, crowds form like chickens admiring a crane wherever he goes. His prowess is clear for all to see."

"We have encountered many outlaws out on the roads these past few days," said another, "all men under Butcher of a Thousand Hands, Tiger Peng. Perhaps they too are heading for the capital? Will we have another chance if we don't take the horse now? What if they capture it?"

Ke Zhen'e froze. Tiger Peng was a terrible outlaw who controlled much of the mountainous area surrounding the Jin capital in Yanjing. He commanded many thousands of men, all as ruthless as him. Why would they be heading for Yanjing? Was that where these eight young women were from?

Their hushed whispers continued. They decided to wait by the side of the road outside the village, where they could capture Guo Jing's horse. Their plan confirmed, the conversation turned to gossip.

"You are the one the young Master prefers."

"He's thinking of you right this very moment!"

Ke Zhen'e scrunched his brow; he could barely endure such senseless girlish chit-chat, but still he kept listening.

"What reward do you think awaits us if we present the Master with such a wonderful horse?"

"For you? A few more nights in his bed, I should imagine," giggled another.

The young girl protested and rose to her feet, but was only met with more laughter.

"Control yourselves, don't give us away. I don't think it's going to be that easy."

"The woman who sits with him, she has a sword. She must know how to fight too. She's rather attractive. If she was ten years younger, I'm sure the Master would fall madly in love with her."

Ke Zhen'e grew angry. This "Master" could not be an honourable man. He listened as they finished their noodles and went outside to mount their camels.

Ke Zhen'e turned to Guo Jing. "Boy, what did you make of those young women? Do they look like fighters?"

"What women?" Guo Jing replied.

Ke Zhen'e looked confused.

"They were dressed as young men," Zhu Cong explained to Ke Zhen'e. "Guo Jing, you didn't notice that they were women in disguise?"

"Have any of you heard of the Master of White Camel Mount?" asked Ke Zhen'e.

None of them had. Ke related the discussion that had just taken place at the neighbouring table. The Freaks were stunned to hear of such audacity, but could not help finding it funny.

"I noticed that two of them had particularly big noses and blue eyes," Jade Han said. "I don't think they were Chinese."

"Indeed, those white camels are native only to the deserts of the west," added Ryder Han.

"They spoke of outlaws gathering in the north. It must be a plot to attack the Song. This could be a calamity for our people. We must stop them."

"But the competition in Jiaxing is drawing close," Gilden Quan replied.

It was indeed a conundrum.

"Let the boy go on ahead by himself!" Nan the Merciful said, breaking the silence.

"Let Guo Jing go to Jiaxing alone and we join him once we have sorted this business in the north?"

Nan nodded.

"Not a bad idea," Zhu Cong said. "The time has come for Guo Jing to be more independent . . ."

But Guo Jing did not look happy at the thought of parting with his teachers.

"You are a grown man now," Ke Zhen'e scolded. "Don't act like a child!"

"Go ahead and wait for us in Jiaxing," Jade said gently. "We will be there before the new moon comes into view."

"We never explained to you what exactly is to take place at Jiaxing," Zhu Cong began. "But the most important thing is that, at midday on the twenty-fourth day of the third lunar month, you must go to the Garden of the Eight Drunken Immortals. Whatever happens, you must be there."

Guo Jing nodded.

"These women won't be a problem on such a fast horse," Ke Zhen'e said. "Don't bother fighting them; you have more important things to do, so don't waste your time on such trifles."

"And if they really are so bold as to try to cause you trouble, the Seven Freaks of the South will stop them!" Ryder Han exclaimed.

It had been more than ten years since Zhang Asheng's death, but still they could not get used to referring to themselves as six. Their brother was always with them.

"I'm not sure where this White Camel Mount is, but it sounds like a formidable place," Zhu Cong said. "It's best to avoid any confrontation with them."

Guo Jing took leave of his shifus . Having witnessed their protégé single-handedly take on the Four Daemons of the Yellow River, the Freaks were confident that he had absorbed the lessons they had taught him. And while they did have to deal with this gathering of outlaws in the Jin capital, it was also part of a young man's training in the jianghu to travel alone. Only then would he learn the things a teacher could not pass on.

The Freaks imparted their last piece of advice.

"If all else fails, run!" said Nan the Merciful. But he knew very well that Guo Jing was not one to give ground, even if his opponent was a master of superior skill.

"The martial arts are without limit," Zhu Cong added next. "Every peak sits under the shadow of another, so every man may meet one stronger than himself. This is true for even the most accomplished masters. When faced with an opponent of considerable skill, the real fighter knows to retreat, practise, and wait for another opportunity to prevail. Never strip the mountain bare and you will not want for firewood. These are not the actions of a coward. And indeed, they are especially pertinent when faced with many foes, rather than just one. Remember your Fourth Shifu 's words, young man!"

Guo Jing nodded and kowtowed, before mounting his horse and heading south. He felt a great sadness to be parted from them; they had spent every day together for the past twelve years. Tears gathered in his eyes and began to wet his cheeks. His thoughts also turned to his mother, alone in the desert. She did not want for clothes or food, as she was being looked after by the Khan and his sworn brother Tolui, but he knew she too must be feeling lonely.

HE RODE for ten li before the road cut between high mountains. Above him, craggy rock formations hung ominously. It was the first time he had travelled alone in such a strange and foreign landscape. He placed his hand on the hilt of his sword and gazed ahead down the road. His Third Shifu Ryder Han would be most angry if he knew how scared he was.

The road began to ascend, becoming ever more narrow and precipitous, before disappearing behind a large rock. As Guo Jing turned the corner, four white shapes appeared on the road before him. Four of the young women in white, dressed as boys, riding camels. They were blocking the road.

Guo Jing pulled sharply on his reins. Keeping his distance, he called to them: "Hello there! Please let me pass!"

They laughed. "Little boy, why are you scared? Come closer. We won't eat you."

Guo Jing's cheeks turned hot. What should he do? Approach slowly and talk, or rush at them and start fighting?

"Nice horse you have there!" called another. "Come closer, let us take a proper look."

She spoke as if he were a little child, which angered him, but the road was perilous; to the right the rock face was like a wall and the drop to his left was sheer and absolute. Mist cloaked the way ahead. My shifus told me not to go looking for a fight, he thought. If I charge at them with my horse, they will have to let me pass.

He lifted his sword, squeezed his thighs and his trusty Ulaan shot forward.

"Move aside!" Guo Jing cried. "Or I will knock you into the valley!"

What happened next took only seconds. One of the women jumped from her camel and threw herself at Ulaan's bridle. With a loud whinny, Guo Jing's horse flew into the air, through the high mountain clouds, and up over their heads, before landing safely on the other side. They could only watch in amazement.

Behind him, he heard them curse. He turned, just in time to catch sight of two objects flashing in the sunlight as they approached. He knew better than to try and catch them, for fear that they were poisoned, so he whipped the leather cap from his head and caught them before he could be hit.

"Very nice!"

"Impressive kung fu!" called another.

Guo Jing looked into the cap: two silver darts. These are deadly! We are not sworn enemies, Guo Jing thought in alarm, and yet they are willing to kill me for a horse!

He carefully stored the darts in his pouch and spurred his prize colt on, for fear of meeting the next four women.

He rode like this, high up in the clouds, for nearly two hours, covering some eighty li without coming across a trace of them. He allowed himself a brief rest before pressing on, arriving in Kalgan before night fell. It would take them three days to cover the same distance on their camels, so he reckoned he was safe now.

2

KALGAN SITS AT THE MEETING POINT BETWEEN NORTH AND south China, a lively trading centre specialising in furs. Guo Jing rode through the city gates and looked around in amazement. He had never seen such a large city. Everything was new to him. He stopped before an inn, hunger gnawing at his stomach. He tied his horse to the post in front and went inside, where he ordered a plate of beef and a kilo of the local flatbread. He ate in the manner of the steppes, rolling the meat in the bread and tearing chunks out of it.

But his meal was interrupted by the sound of shouting outside. Fearing that someone might be stealing his precious horse, he ran to the door. But Ulaan was quietly munching on his fodder. The noise came from two men who worked at the inn. They were taunting a young, gaunt boy dressed in rags. He must have been only a few years younger than Guo Jing, his leather cap full of holes and his cheeks so smudged with dirt that he would have been hard to recognise had they been the best of friends. The boy was clutching a piece of steamed bread and all he could do was laugh, revealing a row of bright white teeth completely at odds with his overall appearance. There was a remarkable intensity to his big, black eyes.

"Go on! Get out of here!"

"I'm going," the boy replied. He turned, but before he could leave the other man who worked at the inn called back at him.

"Leave the bread!"

The boy placed it on the ground by his feet: a white, round steamed bun blemished by five round, black fingerprints. There was no way they could sell it now. Enraged, one of the men launched a fist at the boy, who ducked.

Guo Jing watched, feeling pity for the hungry beggar. "Come now, there's no need to fight! I'll pay for the bun." He picked up the bread and handed it back to the boy.

But instead the boy turned to a nearby dog and said, "Disgusting! Here, you have it," and threw it at the mutt. The dog pounced on it with gratitude.

"Shameful, giving a perfectly good bun to a dog!" one of the inn men cried.

Guo Jing did not know what to say. Was the boy not hungry? He returned inside to finish his food, but the dirty young boy followed, took a seat nearby and proceeded to stare at him as he ate, greatly embarrassing Guo Jing.

"Do you want some?" Guo Jing said finally.

"Yes please." He smiled. "I've been alone so long, I was looking for someone to talk to." He spoke in the dialect of the rivers and lakes of the south.

Guo Jing was delighted to have someone speak to him in his mother's tongue. The young boy took a seat at the table and Guo Jing asked the waiter for some tableware. But the waiter was displeased at this new guest's filthy appearance, so it took a few requests before he reluctantly brought over a bowl and set of chopsticks.

"You consider me too poor to eat here?" the boy said directly to the waiter. "You mistake me. I fear even your best dishes would not satisfy my palate."

"Is that so?" the waiter replied. "We would be happy to serve them to you, but my real concern is, can you pay?"

"Will you treat me to whatever I order?" the boy said, turning to Guo Jing.

"Of course!" Guo Jing said, and then turned to the waiter. "Another pound of roast beef and half a pound of mutton liver!" These were the finest delicacies he could imagine. "Do you drink wine?" he asked the boy.

"Wait," the boy said to the waiter. "First we will eat some fruit and nuts, four dried, four fresh, two sour-salted and four preserved in honey."

The waiter looked surprised. "Which fruits would you like?"

"I doubt you serve anything of note in a poor little inn like this," he said, "so we'll have to make do with dried lychees, longans, steamed jujube and ginkgo nuts. As for the fresh, give us whatever's in season. And we want sliced, perfumed sour cherries and sour plums with ginger. Can you get them here? And the honeyed? Hmm. Rose-scented kumquats, grapes, sugar-coated peach and some pear, done in the style of Lord my Master." His Mandarin was far from perfect, but it was passable.

The waiter was impressed and was no longer haughty with the boy.

"I take it you don't have any fresh fish or seafood to have with our wine," the young man continued. "So we will have to be content with eight dishes of whatever you've got."

"What do the sirs like in particular?"

"Of course, they need everything to be explained down to the last detail," the boy sighed. "Petal-dressed quail, fried duck's feet, chicken-tongue soup, drunken deer tripe, pan-fried beef done two ways, rabbit slivers in chrysanthemum, flame-cooked venison and . . . pig's trotter in ginger vinegar. We'll take these simple dishes, I don't anticipate you have anything more refined."

The waiter's mouth was by now agape.

"Those are all rather expensive dishes, sir," he replied. "The chicken-tongue soup and duck's feet alone will be most costly as they require the slaughter of many animals."

"This gentleman is paying," he replied, pointing at Guo Jing. "Are you questioning whether he has the means?"

The waiter glanced at Guo Jing's fine sable coat. I will take that in lieu of payment if he doesn't have enough, he said to himself. "Is that all?"

"We will also have another twelve dishes to accompany the rice, and eight sweets. That is all for now."

The waiter did not dare to ask what exactly these should consist of, fearing that the urchin might name dishes the inn could not supply. Instead he returned to the kitchen and told them to prepare their best.

"And what can I get you to drink?" he said upon his return. "We have Bamboo Leaf, a sorghum wine, aged for ten years. How about that to start?"

"Fine. We can take that to begin with."

The waiter came with the fruit and nuts. Guo Jing marvelled at each plate. Never had he eaten such delicious food. The boy spoke continuously, telling stories of the south, their local customs and the deeds of famous men. Guo Jing was captivated by his incredible knowledge, which clearly went beyond the culinary. Guo Jing had learned to recognise only a few basic characters in between his martial arts lessons. But this young man appeared every bit as cultivated as his Second Shifu Zhu Cong. And here I was taking him for just a poor beggar, he thought to himself. Chinese men are very different from those on the northern steppe.

Not an hour later the dishes had all arrived – enough to cover two tables pushed together. Guo Jing's companion merely picked at the plates, however, and hesitantly sipped at the wine. Suddenly he called the waiter over.

"This wine is only five years old! How dare you try to cheat us?"

"Please, sir –" the manager came rushing over – "your palate is most exquisite. Our little inn did not have sir's requested wine in stock, so we had to procure some from a nearby establishment, the Eternal Celebration. It's not easy to get vintage wine in Kalgan."

The boy waved for them to take it back. Having just learned that Guo Jing had come from Mongolia, he resumed their conversation, asking Guo Jing all about the desert wilds of the north. The Freaks had told Guo Jing not to reveal his identity while on the road, so he related only anecdotes about hunting hares and wolves, shooting eagles and racing horses. The boy listened with fascination, clapping his hands and laughing like a little child.

Guo Jing felt an instant ease with him, the likes of which he had never known before. This was only strengthened by the fact that the boy spoke his mother's dialect. He had grown up in the desert alongside his good friends Tolui and Khojin, but the Great Khan kept his beloved son close and Tolui had had less and less time to spend with Guo Jing of late. He often bickered with Khojin, who was headstrong and usually wanted him to do as she wished. Theirs was not the easiest of relationships. Guo Jing was taciturn and found it difficult to express himself. Most people found it necessary to probe him with questions to get him to speak. Jade Han teased him for taking after Nan the Merciful, as if words spoken out load cost their weight in gold. But now, sitting with this young man he had only just met, he talked non-stop, sharing everything save for his martial arts training and his connection to the Great Khan Temujin.

Guo Jing lost himself in the moment while relating a particularly exciting encounter with a wild animal, and without any thought to propriety, grabbed the boy's hand. To his astonishment, it was soft and smooth and somehow almost boneless. The boy blushed and looked away, revealing the alabaster skin of his neck. It was perfectly clean, not at all smudged in dirt like his cheeks, Guo Jing noticed.

"The dishes have gone cold," the boy said, gently pulling his hand back.

"Yes, but they're still delicious," Guo Jing said.

The boy disagreed.

"Then let's have them warm them up," Guo Jing suggested.

"No, that spoils the food." He called over the waiter and ordered him to throw away the cold food and prepare the same dishes anew. The innkeeper, cooks and staff were puzzled, but did as the boy requested. Guo Jing wanted to please his guest, and having never been entrusted with money before, he was not sure of its worth. The boy's company alone was enough to warrant such extravagance.

The new dishes arrived, but again, the boy ate only a few mouthfuls before declaring himself full.

"This street child is playing you for a fool," the waiter muttered to himself as he glanced over at Guo Jing, before bringing him the bill. Nineteen taels , seven mace and four candareens . Guo Jing handed the waiter an ingot of gold and told him to change it into silver and settle the account.

A northerly wind was blowing fierce as they left the inn. The boy shivered. "My sincerest gratitude. Farewell."

But Guo Jing could not stand to see the boy head into such a cold night wearing such scant clothing. He placed his black sable coat on the boy's shoulders. "Brother, I feel as if I've known you my whole life. Take this against the wind."

He slipped four ingots of gold into one of the pockets, leaving himself four more for his journey. The boy left without even saying thank you, and began to trudge against the weather, before turning around for one last look.

Guo Jing was standing beside his bridled horse, watching him. The young man waved and Guo Jing ran over to him. "Does my brother need anything?"

"I didn't ask you your name," he said and smiled.

"Yes, we forgot. My family name is Guo, my given name Jing. And you?"

"My family name is Huang, my given name Lotus ." His companion looked at him meaningfully, but Guo Jing did not know what a lotus was and thus could not understand the significance of the revelation.

"Where are you going? I am heading south; if you are going the same way we could go together."

"I'm not going that way," Lotus said. Then, after a pause, "But I'm still a bit hungry."

"Then let's get something to eat!" Guo Jing said, despite being very full from their first meal.

Lotus led Guo Jing to Kalgan's premier eating establishment, the Eternal Celebration, a richly adorned inn decorated in the southern style favoured by the courtiers of the Song. This time, Lotus ordered four plates of pastries and buns and a large pot of Dragon Well tea. Though it was considered a delicacy from his ancestral homelands, Guo Jing had never before tasted such a weak and tasteless drink. But conversation picked up where they had left off.

"I'm not sure where to go next, but I think I should go north and find myself a pair of white condors just like yours!" Lotus declared.

"They're pretty rare," Guo Jing said.

"Then how did you come across them?"

Guo Jing smiled but did not answer the question. How is such a delicate young boy going to survive the harsh northern winds? Guo Jing asked himself. "Why not go home? Where do you live?"

"My father doesn't want me back," Lotus replied, her eyes moist.

"Why?"

"He was keeping a man hostage and I took pity on him, bringing him food and chatting to him. My father was furious, he shouted at me. So I ran away in the night."

"I'm sure he's worried and wondering where you are. What about your mother?"

"She died many years ago. When I was very little."

"I think you should go home."

Lotus started to cry.

"I'm sure he wants you back."

"So why hasn't he come looking for me?"

"How do you know he hasn't? Maybe he hasn't been able to find you?"

"Maybe you're right," Lotus said, smiling through the tears. "I'll go home once I've finished with my adventures. I have two white condors to tame first."

Guo Jing related his encounter with the eight women dressed in white and disguised as men who wanted to steal his horse. Lotus was intrigued.

"Big Brother," Lotus began, "I want to ask you for something. But I fear it is something you value highly and you won't want to part with it."

"Anything."

"Would you give me your horse?"

"Gladly," Guo Jing replied without hesitation.

In fact, Lotus was teasing him. It was clear that Guo Jing felt a great attachment to the animal, and they had only just met. But his reply took her by surprise and she buried her face in her sleeve.

Guo Jing watched awkwardly. "What's the matter, Brother, are you unwell?"

Lotus looked up. The tears had cleaned her cheeks, revealing a jadeite glow beneath. "Let's go," she said.

Guo Jing paid and together they went outside. Guo Jing took his horse by the reins and spoke to it, caressing its mane.

"You will now go with my friend here. Be good and do as he says, and no more of your foul temper!" He then turned to Lotus. "Brother, up you get!"

The horse was not usually given to allowing other people to mount it, but it had grown calmer over the passing days and now it had special instructions from its master. Lotus jumped up into the saddle. Guo Jing let go of the reins, gave the horse a light clap and watched as they disappeared into a cloud of dust.

Guo Jing stood watching until they had faded on the horizon before turning back to the inn. It was late, and he settled into a room. But just as he was about to blow out the candle, a scratching started at his door. Was it the boy? The thought made him feel giddy.

"Brother, is that you?"

But the reply came in a voice considerably older and croakier: "Yes, it's me. What are you so excited about?"

Guo Jing opened the door cautiously and, to his surprise, there in the flicker of the candlelight, he saw five men. He peered closer and felt a shiver go up his spine. The Four Daemons of the Yellow River, one with a sabre, one with a spear, another carrying a whip, and there, the twin axes. The fifth man was thin, with a long face. He looked to be around forty. Guo Jing made out three large lumps on his forehead. He was one of the ugliest men Guo Jing had ever seen.

This last man pushed Guo Jing aside with a sneer, and entered the room. He sat himself down on the hard bed and turned to look at Guo Jing. The light from the candle fell upon the three bumps on his forehead, casting his whole face in shadow.

But it was the eldest of the Four Daemons who spoke, Shen the Strong, wielder of the Spirit Cleaver: "This is our martial uncle Browbeater Hou, the Three-Horned Dragon. Show your respect."

Guo Jing was surrounded, there was no way he could overcome all four Daemons and Browbeater Hou all by himself.

"What do you want?" Guo Jing said, cupping his fist. But there was an edge to his voice.

"Where are your Masters?" Browbeater Hou asked.

"My shifus aren't here."

"Ha, then you shall live another day at least. I couldn't kill you now, people would say the Three-Horned Dragon took unfair advantage of a weak opponent. But tomorrow, at noon. I will be waiting for you and your shifus in the forest of black pines, ten li west of here."

He left before Guo Jing could reply. Wu the Bold, carrier of the Soul Snatcher whip, pulled the door shut behind them and pulled across the latch.

Guo Jing blew out the candle, sat on the bed and watched their shadows move across the paper window as they kept watch outside. Just then he heard a noise on the roof, a weapon striking tiles and then a voice: "Don't even think about trying to run away, young man. I'm watching you!"

Escape was impossible. Guo Jing lay down on the bed, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. How was he going to get out of the fight tomorrow? But he was asleep before he could think of a plan.

The next morning, one of the inn boys brought noodles for breakfast and hot water so that Guo Jing could wash. Qian the Hardy was visible outside, clutching his pair of axes known as the Great Reapers and keeping guard.

His shifus were who knew where, and could not help him now. He had no choice but to fight and die like a man. "If all else fails, run!" His Fourth Shifu 's words rang in his ears. But he had to at least try to fight first. The fact of the matter was, he could have easily escaped, as Qian was alone at that moment, but he wasn't known for his quick-wittedness. Browbeater Hou was convinced the Freaks could not be far away, and they would have to show up when presented with a challenge.

Guo Jing sat on his bed, practising the breathing techniques Ma Yu had taught him. Qian had entered and was standing before him, spinning his axes and barking suggestions for how he could improve. But Guo Jing ignored him, until the sun approached its highest point, when he rose to his feet.

"It's time," he said to Qian.

Guo Jing settled his bill with the innkeeper and the two of them made their way to the forest of black pines to the west. Qian ran on ahead, leaving Guo Jing to enter alone.

Guo Jing gripped his whip and crept through the undergrowth. He moved slowly, his breath tight and alert, but after almost one li , he was still yet to see another soul. Only the occasional squawk of a bird broke the silence. He grew ever more nervous as he went.

Why not hide? Guo Jing thought to himself. Hiding's not running away!

But just as he was preparing to slip into a nearby bush, a voice came from above: "You bastard! You toad! Coward!"

Startled, Guo Jing jumped back. He looked up and then burst into laughter, there, in the branches above him, the Four Daemons of the Yellow River were tied up and hanging by their feet. They wriggled like caterpillars caught in a spider's web; there was no way they could get free. The sight of Guo Jing only made them more furious.

"Are you having fun?" Guo Jing shouted up, not bothering to conceal his delight. "I won't disturb you." He started to walk away but turned back. "Wait, how did you end up like that?"

"Damn you, we were taken by surprise. Hardly an honourable way to fight!" Qian shouted back down at Guo Jing.

"Young man." Shen spoke next. "Let us down if you're brave enough and we will decide this honourably. One on one, of course."

Guo Jing could not be called intelligent, but he wasn't that stupid. "I am perfectly happy to acknowledge your superior bravery without fighting you." He smiled. He was well aware, of course, that Browbeater Hou was not among them, and he had no desire to wait for his arrival.

Guo Jing made a quick departure and headed back to the city, where he bought a new horse. But he could not help wondering who it was who had helped him. The Daemons of the Yellow River had most excellent kung fu; tying them up like that was no small feat. And what; happened to Browbeater Hou? My shifus have always said, you must never decline an invitation to fight. I showed up; it's not my fault he didn't.

3

THE JOURNEY CONTINUED WITHOUT INCIDENT AND HE arrived at the capital of the Jin Empire before nightfall. Known to the Chinese as Yanjing, Zhongdu's riches dwarfed even those of the former Song capital at Kaifeng and the new capital of Lin'an. For Guo Jing, a boy of the desert, it was a marvel. Home to more than a million inhabitants, the streets were lined with decorative red-brick buildings with painted doors, and crowded with ornate carriages. Merchants stacked their storefronts with a multitude of goods, the likes of which Guo Jing had never seen before, as the fragrance of tea leaves wafted into the street. Music hung in the air, colours, sounds and smells overwhelmed him. Guo Jing did not know which way to look.

He was hungry, but he was too intimidated to enter one of the more luxurious-looking restaurants, so he chose an unassuming stall, where he gulped down a bowl of rice before continuing to explore. Suddenly cheers broke out and he saw a crowd gathered up ahead.

He approached and slipped between the spectators to get a better look. In the middle of the circle of people he saw the words DUEL FOR A MAIDEN embroidered in red upon a large white banner. Beneath it, two people were fighting, a rotund man in yellow and a young girl dressed in red. She had considerable skill, Guo Jing could tell right away. Her movements were balanced and well thought out. The man was no match for her. The girl lowered her guard and the man advanced with a Double Dragon Flies the Cave, launching his two meaty fists at her shoulders. She leaned to the side and then planted her left shoulder into his flank. The crowd cheered. He looked up from where he had landed, embarrassed and covered in dust, before slinking away.

She neatened a stray strand of hair and took her place beneath the banner. Guo Jing looked at her more carefully: she looked to be around eighteen years of age and had a most elegant figure. The shadow of the fluttering banner flickered across her pretty features. On either side of her an iron spear and two short halberds had been planted into the dirt.

The girl turned and whispered something to a nearby middle-aged man. He nodded and stepped forward. He clasped his hands in a gesture of respect and addressed the crowd:

"I, your humble servant Mu Yi, have travelled from Shandong to your great city. I seek neither fame nor fortune, but my daughter has reached the age at which she may put comb to her hair and yet she is still without a betrothed. She has declared that she desires neither wealth nor nobility in a future husband, merely a man expert in the martial arts. It is for this reason we stand so boldly before you and propose this challenge. All unmarried men below the age of thirty are eligible, and I promise my daughter's hand as long as they can overcome her in one single move. We have come from the south because all masters in the land of the rivers and lakes are already engaged, or else have been too cowardly to take up the challenge. But we have heard much of the bravery of the men in the north, home to many valiant warriors. Do please forgive my boldness!"

He looked to be a sturdy man, but Guo Jing could not help but notice the slight hunch in his back. White flecks had turned his hair a speckled silver and wrinkles marked his face. He had a melancholy air and his dress was coarse and patched – a contrast to the vibrant colours of his daughter's outfit.

Mu Yi fell silent and waited. No-one stepped forward. The crowd dared only lob vulgar insults about his daughter's ripening beauty. He looked up at the black clouds gathering above. The wind from the north was picking up speed.

"A blizzard threatens," he said darkly. "It was stormy that day, too . . ."

He turned and had begun to fold away the banner when two voices called out at the same time, "Wait!"

Two men jumped forward and the crowd whooped in delight. One was pudgy and far older than thirty years. The other was an even less appropriate match: a shaven monk.

"Why are you laughing?" the older, fat man cried to the crowd. "I am still single, why can't I give it a try?"

"Dear sir," the monk replied with a smile, "you wouldn't want the poor girl to become a widow before she had even turned twenty, would you?"

"And what about you?" he snarled in reply.

"If I were to the win the hand of such a pretty girl, I would cast off my religious robes."

This delighted the crowd even more.

The girl frowned, clearly displeased, but she removed her cape and prepared to fight. Mu Yi gripped her arm and urged her to stay calm. He then turned, unfurled the banner and once more planted it into the ground. The monk and the heavyset man continued their bickering, each wanting to fight first.

"Why not start by fighting each other?" a wit from the crowd called out. "The winner fights the girl!"

"Fine by me," the monk replied. "Let's put on a show for the crowd, old man." He launched himself fist first at the man's head but the old man ducked before returning the blow.

Guo Jing recognised their moves; the monk was using Shaolin Arhat style, and the older, rotund man practised Five Style Fists. Both were forms of external kung fu. The monk was agile, but his opponent possessed considerable power.

Just then the monk struck three blows at the older man's stomach. The older man brought his fist down heavy on the monk's head, who landed on his rear. After a moment of confusion, the monk staggered to his feet and, removing a blade from his robes, lunged at the man. The crowd gasped, while the old man leapt back and removed an iron whip from his belt. They had both come armed! The fight had taken a desperate and dangerous turn.

The spectators clapped but edged back.

"Stop!" Mu Yi edged towards the two men. "It is forbidden to fight with weapons."

But the men paid him no heed. Mu Yi leapt into the air, kicking the blade from the monk's hand and seizing the end of the whip. He pulled hard and the old man had no choice but to let go. Mu Yi threw the whip to the dirt and stood defiantly. The two men stooped to pick up their weapons and, accompanied by the jeers of the crowd, slipped shamefully back into anonymity.

Just then came the tinkling of bells. The crowd turned towards the sound and there they saw a throng of servants accompanying an expensively dressed young man sitting astride a handsome horse. His eyes went from the banner to the girl and a smile crept across his face. He jumped down from his saddle and stepped forward.

"Is this the maiden?" he asked.

The girl's cheeks flushed bright crimson and she turned without answering. Mu Yi approached him and bowed. "Sir, our family's name is Mu. How may I help the Master?"

"What are the rules?"

Mu Yi explained.

"Then I will take my turn." He looked to be around the same age as the young girl, handsome and evidently from a good family.

Finally, a young man suitable for the maiden, Guo Jing thought. Much better than the monk and the old fat man.

"Your Lordship must be teasing," Mu Yi replied.

"What do you mean?"

"We are a wandering family without fixed abode, we are not suitable for a man such as yourself. This is no ordinary duel; it concerns the hand of my daughter," he said, pointing to the young girl.

"How long have you been holding this contest?"

"We have been more than six months on the road, sir."

"And still nobody has won your daughter's hand?" The young Master sounded incredulous.

"It is most certainly because the Empire's masters of kung fu are all already married," Mu Yi replied with a smile. "Or they believe a duel with my daughter to be beneath them."

"Very well, let me try!"

He is a most refined young man, Mu Yi thought to himself. Were he from a more humble family he would make a very worthy son-in-law. But he is of noble birth and could be related to someone important at court. In any case, he is rich and powerful. If my daughter wins, it will bring trouble. If she loses, how could I allow our families to be joined forever?

"We are mere wanderers of the south, we are no match for a man of your standing. Please forgive us, we will leave."

"Your challenge is an honourable one," the young man replied. "I will not harm your daughter, I assure you." He turned to the girl and said, "All the lady has to do is make contact during combat and she wins, is that agreeable?"

"There are strict rules in a contest such as this," the girl contended.

"Get on with it!" came a cry from the crowd.

"The faster he wins, the faster you can be married and show us an heir!"

Laughter echoed around the square.

The young woman scowled, removed her cape once again and bowed to the young man.

He too lowered his head. "Young lady."

Can he really know any martial arts, having grown up with such wealth? Better defeat him quickly and leave the city at once, Mu Yi reflected.

"Very well, sir," he said. "Perhaps I may take the Master's coat?"

"That will be unnecessary," the young man replied.

He's in trouble, the crowd thought, aware of the girl's considerable talents. And yet, maybe he, too, has experience of fighting in the south? Father and daughter both knew the danger of letting the son of a nobleman lose face before so many people.

"Do you think the contest is real?" some in the crowd whispered to each other. "Maybe that old Mu Yi is just trying to cheat vain fools like this young man out of money?"

"He'd better watch his purse!"

"My lord," the young girl said, and lowered her head. The fight was on.

The young nobleman turned to the right and whipped his left sleeve at the girl. Surprised, she bent to avoid the move. His right sleeve came with equal speed at her head and she could only leap upwards to avoid being pincered between them.

"Nice!" the young man exclaimed, advancing before she could land on her feet. The girl twirled in the air and kicked at his nose. He lurched back and they both landed at the same time. They regarded each other with mutual respect. The girl's cheeks blushed again, but she moved first into attack, the man a flicker of brocade, and she a cloud of red mist.

Guo Jing was amazed. They're no older than me, he said to himself, and yet they are such skilled fighters. They would make the perfect couple. They could keep replaying the circumstances of their first meeting. He smiled to himself.

He traced each move with anticipation, until the girl tugged at the young man's sleeve and ripped it from his coat. She landed back and held her trophy high in the air.

"My lord, we apologise most humbly!" Mu Yi ran forward, bowing, and grabbed hold of his daughter. "We will leave."

"Not so fast," the young man replied, his displeasure evident. "We haven't found a winner yet."

Grabbing at the front of his coat, he pulled hard, causing the jade buttons to burst in all directions. Servants ran to collect them, while one of his men rushed forward to help the young man remove his outer robe, revealing a tunic of lake-green satin tied at the waist with a sash the colour of spring onions. It was a fine outfit designed to accentuate his delicate, handsome features.

He swung his left palm high and brought it down swiftly, sending a powerful gust of air at the girl's cheeks. He looked to be focused now, the fight was no longer just a bit of fun. The girl retreated.

Marriage looks to be in sight, Guo Jing said to himself. My shifus were right: there are many fighters of exceptional talent in the Central Plains. I would never win against such sophisticated palm technique.

"My girl," Mu Yi called to his daughter, sensing the outcome was inevitable, "it's time to give up. This fine gentleman is much more skilled than you." He was clearly not one of those idle youths who adored nothing but gambling and women, Mu Yi reflected. He would ask about the family and, provided he was not related to the Jin nobility, he would approve the marriage. His daughter's future would be secure.

He called for a halt to the fight, but the young man had no intention of stopping now.

If I wanted to hurt this girl, I could, he thought to himself. But he didn't have the heart. Instead, he grabbed at her wrist. Alarmed, she tried to wrestle free. He pushed and she lost balance and he swept her into his arms. The crowd burst into cheers and clapped.

"Let go of me," the girl hissed, her cheeks hot with shame.

"Call me your beloved, and I will release you at once."

The young girl was incensed, but despite her struggles, she could not break free.

"You have won her hand," Mu Yi said, approaching them. "Please let go of my daughter."

The young man began to laugh, but still he clutched the girl's wrist.

Her patience now sorely tested, the girl kicked at the pressure point on his temple. But he caught her foot with his other hand. She panicked and pulled back, losing her red embroidered shoe.

There she sat on the ground, her head lowered, nursing her white stockinged foot. The young man smiled and, to the crowd's delight, lifted the cloth shoe to his nose and sniffed.

"Bet that smells delicious!" someone cried.

"Sir, may I ask your name?" Mu Yi interrupted.

"There's no need!" he answered with a smile.

He took back his brocade coat, glanced at the girl and slipped her shoe into his pocket. Just then the wind picked up and large petals of snow began to fall.

"We are staying at the Prosperity Inn," Mu Yi called after the man, "in the west. Shall we go together and settle everything?"

"Settle what? I'm going home, the weather is turning."

Mu Yi's cheeks turned a snowy white. "But you won the contest, I promised you my girl's hand in marriage. This is a serious matter, young sir!"

The young man laughed even louder. "It was just a little fun. A rather interesting game, I must admit. But as for marriage? I'm afraid I must decline your generous offer."

Anger caught in Mu Yi's throat. "You . . . sir . . ."

"What did you expect?" one of the servants called back. "That our master would marry a wretched girl of the wulin ? You're living in dreamland!"

Incensed, Mu Yi reached out and slapped the servant on the cheek. The young man, in fact a prince of the Jin court, said nothing, but motioned to the others to carry his man away. He went to his horse and was about to mount when Mu Yi shouted again after him, "Why do you mock us?"

The Prince made no reply, at which point Mu Yi ran forward and grasped the young man's arm. "I would never let my daughter marry such an indolent and hateful young man as you! But at least give us back the shoe."

"She gave it to me. I have declined the first prize, I am keeping it as my consolation." And with a quick flick of his wrist, he was free from the old man's grip.

"I'll fight you!" Mu Yi was getting desperate in his rage.

He leapt up and aimed at the Great Sun pressure point on the Prince's temples with both fists, in a move known as the Bell and Drum. But the Prince jumped up into his stirrup and called out, "And if I beat you, I won't have to marry your daughter?"

The crowd were just as enraged by the Prince's arrogance as the old man, but they remained quiet save for a few lone guffaws from some of the rougher men in their midst.

Mu Yi adjusted his sash and leapt into a Seagull Skims the Sea. The young man responded with a blow to the old man's belly, in a Poison Snake Seeks the Cave. Mu Yi dodged this attack and struck with his left palm at the young man's shoulder. The young man turned, advancing his right palm under Mu Yi's arm in a Steal the Clouds, before bringing his other hand up towards the old man's face. Mu Yi blocked with his elbow before slapping the Prince across both cheeks in a Protector Skanda Defends Evil.

His cheeks throbbing, the Prince was furious. He dug his fingers into the backs of Mu Yi's hands and pulled away, revealing nails red with blood.

The crowd cried out. Mu Yi's daughter ran forward, tore a strip of cloth from Mu Yi's clothing and bandaged her father's bleeding hands.

"Move," Mu Yi said, pushing aside his daughter. "It's either him or me!"

"Father, let him go, he's too nasty!"

The onlookers were disgusted that the rich young man's actions should result in the spilling of blood and even the rougher elements of the crowd were indignant. By now, everyone was in agreement that he was a most disagreeable young man.

The Prince rubbed at a spot of blood that had been splattered on his clothes and turned once again to mount his horse. Guo Jing could no longer stand by and do nothing. He pushed through the crowd, and out into the open space before the crowd. "You! Your behaviour is a disgrace!"

The Prince was momentarily affected by these words, but then brushed them off. "A disgrace?"

His servants were much amused by their master's mocking version of this peasant boy's southern accent, but Guo Jing did not understand their joke. "Yes. You should marry this young lady!"

"And if I don't?"

"Why did you take part in the contest if you had no intention of marrying her? It's written clearly on the banner."

"Why are you sticking your nose in where it isn't wanted?"

"This fair maiden is not only beautiful, but is in possession of the most excellent kung fu. Why won't you marry her? Don't you see how you have offended her?"

"You're too dull to understand. I'm not wasting my breath on the likes of you." The Prince turned, but Guo Jing stopped him.

"You can't just leave."

"What do you want?"

"You must marry this young lady."

The Prince laughed and turned again.

What a nice, if rather naïve young man, Mu Yi thought. "Young sir, don't worry. As long as there is still breath in these lungs, I will have my revenge for this insult." Then, turning to the Prince, he said, "At least tell me your name!"

"I told you, I am never going to call you Father, so why do you need to know?"

Furious, Guo Jing rushed forward. "Give her back her shoe!"

"Mind your own business. Have you taken a liking to the young girl?"

"No! I just think you should give it back."

The Prince punched Guo Jing on the ear. Stunned, Guo Jing crossed his hands and seized the Prince's wrists.

"Do you want a beating too?" the Prince shouted as he leapt up and kicked Guo Jing in the abdomen.

Guo Jing pushed at him while still in mid-air, but the Prince had good lightness technique, and instead of falling, corrected himself and landed on his feet.

"Come on then, little peasant boy, let me see what you can do!" The Prince removed his brocade coat.

"Why would I want to fight you?" Guo Jing said. "I just think you should give the lady back her shoe!"

But the crowd wanted the show to continue, so they goaded from the sidelines:

"He's all talk!"

"A hero fights!"

The Prince could see that Guo Jing too was accomplished in the martial arts, and, in particular, possessed considerable internal strength. He would rather not fight, but neither could he return the shoe without losing face. So he picked up his coat and made for his horse, laughing. But Guo Jing grabbed at his clothes. "Are you just going to leave?"

The young man had a sudden thought. He threw his coat over Guo Jing's head. Blackness descended, and Guo Jing felt a heavy blow to his chest. He tried to suck in air and shrink back, but two fists cracked against his ribs. Luckily the years of training with Ma Yu ensured that, as hard as the Prince's punches were, they did him no injury. Guo Jing kicked out nine times in rapid succession in a Mandarin Duck Drill, a move Ryder Han had taught him. It had served his shifu well over the years. Having not practised hard enough, however, and being unable to see, Guo Jing's aim was not quite true and the Prince avoided all but the last two blows.

The two young men leapt back. Guo Jing threw away the coat. It had been a treacherous move. His Masters had warned him about such fighters, but he had never come across one himself. He was rather too innocent and trusting to believe they could exist. Sometimes his shifus ' warnings came across as amusing fireside stories. Having been so isolated from the wulin , he had not been able to appreciate the truth behind their words.

Enraged by the two kicks he had received, the Prince advanced with his fists raised in an Angled Whip. Guo Jing tried to block the punches aimed at his head, but felt another pain in his chest. He tried to fight back but was beaten once more to the ground. The Prince's retinue burst into laugher, and their master puffed his chest in pride. "You think your three-legged cat technique can beat me? Go back to your shifu 's wife and ask for another twenty years of instruction, maybe then you can fight me!"

Guo Jing scrambled to his feet, panting. He was circulating the qi around his body to relieve the pain.

"My shifu isn't married," he retorted.

"Then tell him it's about time."

"In fact, I have six shifus ," Guo Jing called as the Prince turned to leave. He ran at him with his fist high.

The Prince ducked, Guo Jing's left hook missed, and his right was then blocked. They stood facing each other, their arms locked, each marshalling the best of his internal energy to overpower the other. Guo Jing's was just a little stronger, but his opponent's technique was more advanced. There was little to choose between them.

Guo Jing reached deeper and pressed just as the other young man relaxed the pressure, causing Guo Jing to stumble forward. A punch to the back followed. Guo Jing landed on his elbow and bounced back up, spinning in the air and kicking with his left.

This remarkable recovery was met with delighted whoops and shouts from the crowd.

The Prince launched forward with both palms, the first in a false move designed to distract. Guo Jing replied with a Split Muscles Lock Bones move, striking rapidly at various points across the Prince's body. The Prince echoed the same technique back.

But Guo Jing's was an unorthodox version invented by Zhu Cong. At first glance it looked the same as the technique practised in the Central Plains, but in actual fact he was aiming all along for the Tend the Aged pressure point on the wrist, whereas the Prince was trying to clutch at Guo Jing's knuckles. They continued like this for at least forty moves, but neither triumphed over the other.

Large flakes of snow continued to fall, forming a thin white blanket over the heads and shoulders of the gathered crowd.

Just then Guo Jing realised the Prince had left his chest exposed. He reached for the pressure point in its centre, known as the Turtledove Tail, but at the last moment he hesitated. There is no real emnity between us, it would be wrong to use such a deadly move on him, he said to himself. Instead, he pressed to the side of it, a move that had no effect at all. The Prince grabbed his wrist, hooked his foot, and in a flash, Guo Jing was once more in the dirt.

Mu Yi, his hand now bandaged by his daughter, was still watching the fight. This was the third time Guo Jing had fallen. He ran over to the kind young boy and tried to pull him to his feet. "Young man, forget it. We mustn't waste our energy on such scoundrels."

But Guo Jing was too furious to listen and made another rush on the Prince, his hands a blur.

The Prince was surprised at the young man's persistence. "Don't you know when you're beaten?"

But Guo Jing did not answer and merely continued his attack.

"If you don't stop, I am going to be forced to kill you," the Prince snarled.

"And I will kill you if you don't return the shoe."

"Why are you acting like an overprotective older brother?"

This was in fact a standard insult in the area and the onlookers burst into laughter, but Guo Jing did not understand what he meant.

"I don't even know her," Guo Jing said.

The Prince did not know if he should laugh or cry. "Alright, idiot, watch this!"

The fight resumed. Guo Jing was now more cautious of his opponent's tricks. He knew that the rich young man's kung fu was more accomplished, but Guo Jing had a persistence honed in the harsh environment of the northern steppe. Tusakha's gang had given him his first lesson in this regard. His Fourth Shifu may have told him it was better to run in the face of an enemy he could not defeat, but Guo Jing, in his heart, preferred to stand firm.

The spectacle was drawing an ever-greater crowd and people were crammed into every corner of the market square, despite the intensity of the wind and snow.

Mu Yi knew well that, if the fight continued, the crowds would alert the authorities. The last thing he wanted was to get into trouble, but how could they walk away when this young man was trying to help them? He looked out nervously at the crowd and noticed a group of men who looked like they, too, might be wandering martial arts men of the rivers and lakes.

Mu Yi edged closer to where the rich young man's servants were gathered. Three of them also looked like they might practise kung fu. Among them was an exceptionally tall lama dressed in scarlet robes and a yellow hat. Another was shorter, rounder, his head crested with a mane of silver hair; his skin was smooth and his face dressed in a wide smile. He too was in robes, but Mu Yi was not sure if his outfit indicated he belonged to a Taoist sect. The third man was short, with a neat moustache and piercing, bloodshot eyes.

Mu Yi listened to their conversation.

"Your Eminent Holiness," one of the young servants in the Prince's retinue said to the lama, "you must put a stop to this stupidity. Go in and take the young boy. If the Prince gets injured, we'll all be for the gallows."

He is a prince! Mu Yi said to himself in astonishment. These people are servants of the court, sent to assist the young man.

The lama only smiled.

"Supreme Wisdom Lobsang Choden Rinpoche is an eminent lama of Kokonor," the old man with silver hair said with a smile. "How could he lower himself to intervene in a fight with a young hooligan?" Turning to the servant, he continued, "At most the Prince will have your legs broken. He can't exactly have you killed."

"The Prince is a better fighter than this peasant boy," the short man with the bloodshot eyes added. "What have you got to be scared about?"

Everyone heard this and a chill ran through the crowd. They averted their eyes back to the fight, afraid to catch the short man's lightning gaze.

"The Prince has been training for so long," the man with the silver hair continued, "he wishes to let the people see his skills. He would not be happy for us to intervene."

"Elder Liang," the short man said, "what palm technique is it the Prince practises?"

"Brother Peng, are you testing me?" The silver-haired man smiled. "He fights with speed and agility, indeed the moves show great complexity. Unless I am much mistaken, he has learned his kung fu with a Taoist of the Quanzhen Sect."

A disciple of the Quanzhen? Mu Yi almost jumped. And could this "Brother Peng" be Tiger Peng, Butcher of a Thousand Hands, one of China's most famous bandits?

"Elder Liang, you have a good eye. You have lived as a recluse at the foot of the Mountain of Eternal Snow, dedicating yourself to the art of alchemy. You rarely grace us with your presence here in the Central Plains, and yet you are so well acquainted with all the different schools of martial arts."

"You flatter me, Brother Peng," the old man said with a smile.

"And yet, while the Taoists of the Quanzhen Sect are an eccentric bunch, they are known for their loyalty to the Song. Why would they take a prince of the Jin as their disciple?"

"You think the Prince is unable to persuade those he wishes to engage in service? You, for instance. You command the mountains east and west of the Yellow River, and yet are you not also part of the Prince's household?"

The short man nodded, and they turned their attention to the fight. Guo Jing was now fighting with slower, more deliberate moves which allowed him to maintain a strong defence. The Prince was unable to land any blows.

"And what about the peasant boy?" the silver-haired man said to the short man.

"His kung fu is mixed in style. I would guess he has more than one shifu ."

"Master Peng is correct," a voice interrupted. "He is a student of the Seven Heroes of the South."

Mu Yi examined this new character. He was thin, his cheeks darkened by the sun, and on his head three large cysts protruded. The Seven Heroes of the South? It had been so long since Mu Yi had heard them mentioned, he had assumed they were all dead.

"You little rascal – found you at last!" The man with the cysts suddenly roared as he charged towards the two young men, clutching an iron club.

Guo Jing turned and found the strange-looking man inches from his face. Browbeater Hou, close friend of the Four Daemons of the Yellow River. Guo Jing hesitated, not sure what to do, and the Prince struck him on the shoulder.

The crowd began booing at what they felt to be an ignoble intervention.

Mu Yi moved closer, ready to help Guo Jing. But the Prince appeared to have a great many fighters at his disposal.

And yet Browbeater Hou did not stop to join the fight, and instead continued past Guo Jing and the Prince, and on to the other side of the crowd, where a young boy in rags turned and pushed his way back through the wall of people. Browbeater Hou ran after him, followed by another four men.

Guo Jing saw that the boy was his friend Lotus.

"One moment, please," he said to the Prince. "I must attend to something before we can continue."

The Prince was in fact tired of fighting and was hoping for a way out. "If you admit defeat, we can stop."

But at that moment Lotus Huang danced back into view again, this time laughing and clutching an old broken shoe above her head. Behind her, Browbeater Hou was trying to strike her with his club. Lotus dodged the man's attacks with ease and was already threading her way through the gathered onlookers.

Browbeater Hou stumbled into the centre of the crowd, two large blue-black bruises visible on his cheeks. He stopped, panting.

"I will slice you up, as these people are my witness!" he cried out with rage.

Lotus paused and waited for Hou to catch up, before running off again. The crowd howled with laughter just as three of the Daemons of the Yellow River came gasping into the arena. Only Qian the Hardy was missing.

Guo Jing smiled. So my friend Lotus is also trained in kung fu? He must have been the one to lure this man away and hang the others in the trees.

But Guo Jing was not the only one watching in surprise. "Master Liang, what about the young beggar?" the lama said. "To which school does he belong? He's running rings around Browbeater Hou."

Old Liang was an alchemist of great fame, known across the south as the Ginseng Immortal, the white-haired Master of the Mountain of Eternal Snow. Since his youth, he had consumed great quantities of ginseng and other natural remedies, protecting him from the ravages of old age. But he did not recognise the beggar boy's kung fu. He shook his head. "The Three-Horned Dragon outrun by a mere beggar boy? I thought his skills were better than that, but perhaps I have been away from the wulin for too long."

Tiger Peng could not explain it either. Browbeater Hou joined him often on raids; he knew full well the extent of his friend's considerable fighting skill.

The Prince, meanwhile, was thankful for the diversion, for all that he had the upper hand over his opponent. He untied the scarf he wore as a sash and mopped the sweat off his brow.

Mu Yi approached Guo Jing and shook the young man's hand, before going to pick up his banner. Just then Lotus broke through the crowd again, this time clutching two pieces of cloth torn from Browbeater Hou's shirt. He was not far behind, his hairy chest exposed to the winter chill. Behind them, Wu and Ma ran heavily, stopping every few metres to catch their breath. Shen had been lost along the way. The spectacle brought yet more laughter from the crowd.

Just then shouting echoed from the western side of the square. A squad of soldiers, carrying wicker canes, marched in, striking passers-by as they went. All to make way for a large red and gold sedan chair carried by six more of their men.

"The Consort!" the servants cried.

"Who had the impudence to tell my mother?" The Prince scowled. The servants did not dare reply and instead hastened to the sedan.

"Fighting again?" A soft voice came from inside. "It's snowing and you're not wearing a coat. You'll be sure to catch a cold."

The voice was like a bolt of lightning striking down on Mu Yi. How is this possible? She sounds just like . . . No, it's impossible, she is a member of the Jin house. I miss my wife so much I've gone mad . . . But he could not stop himself from trying to get closer to the chair. A dainty hand holding a handkerchief appeared from inside to wipe the last of the sweat from the young Prince's brow. Mu Yi continued to listen to their conversation.

"But Ma, I'm having fun. I'm in no danger," the young Prince said.

"Put on your coat, we're going home," the Consort said.

How could her voice sound so familiar? Mu Yi was still astonished. He watched her white hand disappear behind a silk curtain embroidered with golden peonies. He tried to peer in but he could not see past the colourful cloth.

One of the servants picked up his master's brocade coat. "Look what you've done to His Lordship's coat! You animal!"

One of the Consort's guard raised his wicker cane and aimed it at Guo Jing's head. Guo Jing jumped aside, seized the man's wrist, and wrestled the cane from him before tripping him up. Guo Jing then dealt him two steady blows as he lay on the ground.

"Who gave you the right to harass innocent men?" Guo Jing cried, and his words were met with cheers from the crowd. More soldiers charged in support, but Guo Jing began fighting them off in pairs.

"How dare you assault my men?" the young Prince cried as he leapt at Guo Jing and they resumed their fight. The Consort shouted for her son to stop, but she instilled no fear in the young man. In fact, he still craved his mother's praise and attention despite being old enough to know better, so he redoubled his efforts. Guo Jing stumbled twice under the force of the Prince's attack.

"Ma! This peasant boy is causing trouble. I've got to teach him a lesson in respect."

Mu Yi, meanwhile, could not take his eyes off the sedan. A corner of the curtain had been drawn aside, and he caught a glimpse of a pair of the most delicate eyes and the finest strands of black silken hair. The face of a frightened mother.

Guo Jing was confronted with an adversary of renewed vigour. The young Prince sought to cause serious injury now, in order to put a definitive end to their combat.

But Guo Jing had thick skin and considerable inner strength, so a few blows would not hurt him. And while the Prince's technique was sophisticated, he was still lacking in experience. Several times he tried to replicate a move that had been successful against Mu Yi, but every time he tried to make a claw and seize hold of Guo Jing, Guo Jing defended himself with another move from his Split Muscles repertoire.

Meanwhile, Browbeater Hou was still chasing after Lotus Huang. The old Three-Headed Dragon had in his hair two heads of corn, a practice of the marketplace to indicate an item was to be sold. Lotus must have put them there, but Hou was blissfully unaware that she had put his head up for sale. The remaining Daemons of the Yellow River were nowhere to be seen.

Old Greybeard Liang and his friends were puzzled. Who was this ragged young peasant boy? Why could Browbeater Hou not catch up with him?

"Is he a member of the Beggar Clan ?" Tiger Peng asked.

The Beggar Clan was the most powerful secret society of the south at the time. The question made Old Greybeard Liang twitch, but he did not answer.

Meanwhile, the fight between the young men was growing faster and more intense. Guo Jing received a blow to the shoulder, the Prince a kick to his thigh. The merest distraction could result in a fatal blow. Tiger Peng and Greybeard Liang prepared themselves to jump in at any moment.

Guo Jing's upbringing on the steppe may have been poor in worldly luxuries, but it had provided him with exceptional mental strength. The Prince, however, had only known a life of gold and silks, and it showed. He was growing tired and his movements were at times clumsy. Guo Jing cried out, took the Prince by the collar and lifted him high. The Prince felt himself sail through the air and winced as the ground approached. This was no move from the jianghu , but one Guo Jing had learned from his Mongolian Master, Jebe.

The Prince's reactions were sharp; he tapped the ground and flew up again, and grabbing hold of Guo Jing's legs, he brought them both back down. The Prince then seized a lance from a nearby soldier on horseback and aimed for Guo Jing's stomach. Guo Jing rolled away, trying to take hold of the weapon, but it evaded him.

"Dearest son! Don't be vengeful; it is enough to defeat him. Don't hurt him!"

But the Prince was determined to have his victory in the bloodiest manner possible.

The tip of the lance was only inches from his nose, but Guo Jing deflected it with his arm. Just then he heard a clatter behind him. The banner! Launching into a perfect Part the Clouds to Reveal the Sun, Guo Jing grabbed the pole.

Now they were both armed. Guo Jing used the Exorcist's Staff technique developed by his First Shifu for the purposes of defeating Cyclone Mei. The banner pole was a bit too long, but he managed to make good use of the many variations and subtlety of the repertoire, forcing the Prince back into a defensive position. Yet the Prince's moves were also impressive. Mu Yi watched in astonishment; they were consistent with those of the Yang Family Spear, a technique handed down only from father to son, and rare indeed, even in the south. Yet his style was not entirely orthodox and somehow lacking in a core understanding, as if it had been copied through observation rather than passed down through personal instruction.

The lance and banner poles crossed and clashed as the snow continued to fall.

"Stop! Stop fighting!" The Consort, seeing her son sweating and covered in blood, could hold back no longer.

Tiger Peng strode into the middle of the crowd and struck with all his might at the banner pole in Guo Jing's hands. A sharp pain shot through Guo Jing's hands and he let go; the large embroidered characters flapping in the wind were barely visible through the dense snow: DUEL FOR A MAIDEN .

Guo Jing had no time to make out the man's face; all he could do was leap back to safety, but not before Tiger Peng had managed to tap his arm, sending him tumbling to the ground.

"Young Prince, let me take care of the boy. He won't bother you again."

He held his palm up, took a deep breath, and went to give Guo Jing a rude punch to the head. Guo Jing raised his arms to block it, but he knew such an attempt at defence was futile. Lama Supreme Wisdom and Old Liang exchanged a meaningful glance; Tiger Peng could snap those arms with one blow.

Just then a cry rose from the crowd: "Stop!"

A grey shadow leapt into view and grabbed hold of Tiger Peng's wrist. In his other hand, he was carrying a strange weapon. Tiger Peng hit out with his left palm and broke the weapon at once. The man in grey ducked, took Guo Jing by the hand and leapt beyond reach. Only then did the likeness of this strange intruder become clear: a Taoist monk, at least thirty or forty years of age and dressed in grey robes. His weapon appeared to be a horsetail whip, the head of which had become detached from the handle and was now wrapped around Tiger Peng's wrist.

The two men took each other in. In one exchange, the extent of their respective martial skills had been made apparent.

"You must be the famed Master Peng? What an honour to meet you at last," the Taoist said.

"You are too kind. May I ask the monk's name?"

All eyes turned to the Taoist, but he did not answer. Instead, he pushed his foot through the snow and pulled back. There, on the ground, was revealed a hole at least ten inches deep! Such was the power of his kung fu.

This startled Tiger Peng. "The Iron Foot Immortal, Jade Sun Wang Chuyi?"

"Master Peng flatters me. I am indeed Wang Chuyi, but I am undeserving of the name Immortal."

They all knew very well who Wang Chuyi was: a Taoist monk of the Quanzhen Sect whose fame was second only to Eternal Spring Qiu Chuji. But they had never seen him in the flesh before. He was handsome, his chin capped with a wisp of the blackest beard. His socks were a brilliant white, his cloth shoes grey. This was a man who took great care in his appearance. Had they not seen his brilliant display of kung fu for themselves, they would never have guessed that he was in fact the Iron Foot Immortal who had once balanced on one leg on the edge of a precipice, swaying like a lotus leaf in the wind. Word of his skill had spread all through the south and even up north into the hinterlands of the Jin capital itself.

"I am not personally acquainted with this young man, but I admire very much his bravery in intervening in such a way. Therefore, I beseech Master Peng to let him live."

"A most courteous request," Tiger Peng was forced to admit. "And who would dare refuse an Elder of the Quanzhen Sect?"

"In which case, I am most grateful," Wang Chuyi said, cupping his hand in a gesture of respect.

Wang Chuyi turned to the Prince and at once his expression darkened and he was severe. "Who are you? And who is your shifu ?"

The young Prince had turned pale upon hearing Wang Chuyi's name, and he would have liked nothing more than to slip away unnoticed. But he had also felt the monk's attention during his exchange with Tiger Peng.

"I am Wanyan Kang, but I cannot reveal the identity of my shifu ."

"He has a red mole on his left cheek. Am I right?"

Wanyan had wanted to reply with something witty, but the sight of the monk's fierce gaze silenced him, and he merely nodded.

"I thought as much," Wang Chuyi said. A student of his brother, Eternal Spring Qiu Chuji. "And did your shifu not teach you certain principles of how to fight nobly before you began your training?"

Wanyan Kang understood the gravity of the situation. His shifu would be furious if he learned of his behaviour today.

"Seeing as the Master is acquainted with my shifu , perhaps he might come with me to my humble abode, so that I might benefit from his wisdom?" He then turned to Guo Jing and bowed. "Perhaps a friendship might grow between us, since we have already been acquainted in combat? Your kung fu is most impressive. May I extend the invitation to you as well?"

"What about the young girl? Will you marry her?" Guo Jing replied.

"This matter . . . is not so easily resolved," Wanyan Kang answered, embarrassed.

"My friend," Mu Yi said, tugging at Guo Jing's arm. "Let's go. We needn't take up any more of the sir's time."

Wanyan Kang bowed to Wang Chuyi. "Elder Wang, I shall await you at my home. Ask for Prince Zhao's residence. The day is cold; we shall sit by the fire and admire the snow from inside. There will be wine waiting to celebrate our meeting."

Wanyan Kang climbed up onto his horse and spurred it straight at the crowd, which scattered before him like ants.

Such arrogance merely irritated Wang Chuyi even more. "Young man," he said, turning to Guo Jing. "Follow me."

"But I must wait for a friend," Guo Jing said.

At which point, Lotus Huang jumped out of the crowd and called to him. "Don't worry, I will find you. You go ahead!" Then she disappeared back into the throng of the dispersing crowd. In the distance, they saw Browbeater Hou running towards them.

Guo Jing kneeled down in the snow and bowed before the Taoist monk as a mark of gratitude for saving his life. The Taoist leaned down and lifted Guo Jing up to his feet.

Together they left the square, threading their way through the crowd, and on to the outskirts of the city.