Chapter 111: A Brief Discussion on Swordsmanship at Mount Hua

The West Poison and the North Beggar were equally renowned in the present age, they were lifelong rivals, having clashed many times before, with victory hard to decide.

After the second sword discussion on Mount Hua, one lay hidden like a tiger in the Central Plains, the other lurked like a dragon in Lingnan, and they never met.

Ouyang Feng's mind was muddled, yet by reverse-practicing the Nine Yin True Classic his martial arts grew ever stranger and stronger; Hong Qigong had only practiced a small part of the Nine Yin True Classic, but the orthodox method prevailed over the reverse, and when combined with his original arts, though his knowledge was limited, he was not inferior to the West Poison.

This time they met, each had made progress, their techniques were profound and subtle, every move exerted unparalleled power.

Only two silhouettes could be seen, coming and going, crossing each other with a whooshing sound, mighty as a gale, stirring snow to fly heavenward. When their palms met, a booming like heavenly drums resounded, their palm force swept the ground, leaving grooves. Yang Guo watched, his heart trembling with fear; Ouyang Feng was his adoptive father, their bond naturally deep, yet Hong Qigong's generous and heroic bearing made him instantly admire him, especially knowing he had once taught his mother martial arts, so what his mother taught him must also be Hong Qigong's martial arts, thus he was his own ancestral grandmaster; he did not wish either to be hurt, and at once shouted, 'Father, Grandfather, stop fighting!'

Hong Qigong suddenly laughed and said, 'You damned toad, there are many people here; to avoid shocking the world, dare you follow me to Mount Hua and fight for seven days and seven nights?'

Ouyang Feng coldly replied, 'Do I still fear you?'

The two separated their forms and ran side by side toward Mount Hua; Yang Guo worried about their safety and closely followed.

The Ancient Tomb School excelled in lightness skill, arguably the best in the world. Yang Guo's martial arts and inner strength were not remarkable, but his lightness skill was indeed not weak.

However, in the blink of an eye, the three's foot speed separated into superiority; Hong Qigong and Ouyang Feng walked shoulder to shoulder, while Yang Guo lagged behind by an arrow's distance.

Feng Yi had his own thoughts, not comparing himself with Hong Qigong and Ouyang Feng, merely keeping pace with Yang Guo without hurry or delay.

Fortunately, Ouyang Feng and Hong Qigong's running and fighting allowed them to keep up.

Feng Yi let out a long sigh and said, 'It looks like Mount Hua will become their burial place.'

Yang Guo glared at Feng Yi and said, 'What do you mean by that?'

Feng Yi sneered, 'You are so impulsive and hot-tempered, how can you achieve greatness?'

Do you know their past? If they do not decide a winner, they will never cease.

But they are both over eighty years old; their inner strength is deep, yet their vigor is no longer what it was, and a prolonged battle will surely bring disaster.

Yang Guo saw that wherever they passed, trees snapped and stones split, as if a hurricane swept through; truly shocking to behold, he thought that if anyone were careless and took a punch or kick, death would be certain; upon this thought, his worry deepened, and he said, 'What then shall we do?'

Feng Yi said, 'In a moment I will find a chance to separate them, entangle Hong Qigong, while you grab Ouyang Feng and pull him away.'

Yang Guo sighed, 'My adoptive father's mind is not right; I fear I cannot hold him.'

Feng Yi shook his head, 'Others cannot pull him, but you can.'

Just say you were bullied and want to bring him for revenge; with Ouyang Feng's overbearing nature, would he still allow his son to be bullied and ignore it?

Yang Guo nodded and said, 'Good, I'll do as you say.'

Feng Yi pondered briefly, then added, 'Take your adoptive father away and see if you can help him regain his sanity; if you can make him recall the method of cultivating snake venom, that would be good.'

Yang Guo frowned slightly and asked, 'What do you mean?'

Feng Yi laughed, 'The West Poison's poison is truly endless and marvelous.'

Yang Guo's body trembled and he shouted loudly, 'What are you saying?'

Feng Yi turned his head and saw Yang Guo's face filled with sorrow, suddenly recalling that his father had indeed died from Ouyang Feng's snake poison; this touched a sore spot, so he said, 'I did not mean to bring up your painful memories.'

Rather, what Elder Hong just said is right: we have cultivated this martial prowess, for what purpose? Could it truly be just for women?

Yang Guo's heart stirred: 'Yes, Elder Hong said what is the purpose of practicing martial arts? I used to train to compete with Guo Fu and the Wu brothers, but now I no longer wish to contend with them; then what is the true purpose of martial arts?'

Feng Yi said, 'Good people practice martial arts to chivalrously aid the righteous; bad people practice to bully the weak with their strength.'

You and I are not selfless, chivalrous good people; thus we ought to kill more Tartars and do some good for the Han people, so as not to waste this martial prowess.

And your adoptive father's poison is indeed a great weapon; think about it well!

Just as they were speaking, several people had already reached the foot of Mount Hua; Hong Qigong and Ouyang Feng's two silhouettes shot forth like arrows, swift as a gale, racing up the mountain, instantly becoming black dots.

Mount Hua ranks among the world's Five Great Mountains, situated in the middle section of the Qinling Range, famed since antiquity for its majestic, perilous grandeur; in winter Mount Hua becomes even more desolate, the snowfall blanketing the hills in white.

As the saying goes, 'There is only one path on Mount Hua'; from the foot to the summit only a narrow goat trail allows passage, sometimes clinging to the cliffside, sometimes traversing the ridge, truly perilous beyond compare, with ten-thousand-foot abysses at the wayside and no railings on the road; merely walking, a slip would mean certain death, hence the name 'Rubbing-Ear Rock'.

Yet Ouyang Feng and Hong Qigong were utterly oblivious to the danger; one saw them with collars fluttering in the north wind, feet treading ice and snow, on a path barely a foot wide they employed their lifetime's supreme skill, exerting all their strength, shaking the mountain so that great masses of accumulated snow fell in chunks.

The flying snow swept violently toward Feng Yi and Yang Guo below, pouring into their collars; they flicked their sleeves to shake it off.

Yang Guo saw them fighting here; any slight mistake would bring death by shattered bones, far more perilous than fighting on level ground; he felt anxious but dared not shout to stop them, fearing to disturb their focus.

Even this scene, despite Feng Yi's ability, made his heart race; he thought, 'If we were to fight here, with my greatest boldness I would likely lose; moreover, their techniques from the Nine Yin True Classic are far superior to mine.'

At this time Ouyang Feng and Hong Qigong, though aged and their vigor waned, their martial cultivation had reached the peak of refined perfection; their techniques were deeply profound, steady, and marvelous; wherever they passed, though the path was steep and arduous, it seemed as if they walked on level ground.

Yang Guo had been very worried, but seeing them repeatedly turn extreme danger into safety, he ceased to fret about their welfare and instead focused intently on observing their martial arts.

His knowledge of the Nine Yin True Classic consisted only of scattered fragments, yet he often saw that the techniques the two used subtly conformed to the classic's essence; sometimes his adoptive father's moves were, however, completely opposite, causing him to marvel, thinking, 'A plain, ordinary sentence in the classic actually contains so many derivations and variations.'

Hong Qigong and Ouyang Feng had fought past a thousand-foot tower, arriving at a spacious platform; there they saw Ouyang Feng retreat two steps, his legs slightly bent, with a 'gu' sound, his palm wind sweeping toward Hong Qigong.

Yang Guo watched anxiously and said, 'Toad Skill, why don't you go?'

Feng Yi shook his head, 'Don't rush; wait until they tire from fighting, then we'll talk.'

He knew those two were not about to die instantly, and besides, going up now would be useless.

Hong Qigong's Eighteen Dragon-Subduing Palms emerged readily, and the two great marvels each displayed their power.

Ouyang Feng's Toad Skill stored unrivaled power; his palms gathered and released, one defending, one attacking; Hong Qigong's palm wind, with its whooshing, was all repelled by him, his feet instantly shifted to circle the opponent, Ouyang Feng's palms coiled around his body, whooshing, guarding against wind and rain.

Feng Yi observed closely: Ouyang Feng's palms pushed forward and drawn back, Hong Qigong's palm force released and gathered; though it seemed simple, in fact the palm power exhausted all possible variations, and he secretly admired it.

The 'Eighteen Dragon-Subduing Palms' originally were the 'Twenty-Eight Dragon-Subduing Palms'; they are neither utterly hard nor utterly soft, constituting a profound martial art.

During the Northern Song, the gang's chief Xiao Feng possessed extraordinary talent, heaven-endowed in martial arts; his Twenty-Eight Dragon-Subduing Palms could crush the rotten and shatter the solid, nothing could withstand them, surpassing even his master Wang Jian Tong, the gang chief; with this he challenged heroes across the world, extremely few could block his three moves and two styles, his aura dominated the age, and the heroes were helpless.

But Xiao Feng was expelled from the gang due to his Khitan identity; he simplified, reducing the twenty-eight palms by ten to become the Eighteen Dragon-Subduing Palms, which he transmitted before Yumen Pass to his sworn brother Xu Zhu of the Spirit Vulture Palace, asking him to pass it on to the Beggars' Gang.

Xu Zhu further incorporated the essence of the Xiao Yao School's martial arts, distilling the refined for broad use, making this palm technique's power richer, becoming the pinnacle of external martial arts.

Passed down to Hong Qigong, he displayed it at the summit of Mount Hua during the sword discussion with Wang Zhongyang, Huang Yaoshi, Ouyang Feng, and others; Wang Zhongyang and the rest all praised it.

Hong Qigong's martial arts proceeded from external to internal, forming his own school; originally a path of pure yang to utmost hardness, but when hardness reaches its extreme, softness naturally arises within it, which is the principle of 'old yang gives rise to little yin' in the Book of Changes; thus in many of his techniques, hard and soft forces blend indistinguishably, and after practicing the Nine Yin True Classic his inner strength continued to advance, his palm technique attaining refined perfection.

Ouyang Feng's Toad Skill is a supreme martial art of the world; this art uses stillness to counter motion, storing energy throughout the body without release; as soon as the enemy attacks, an immensely powerful recoil erupts, its force able to match the Eighteen Dragon-Subduing Palms.

More than ten years ago, Ouyang Feng's mind was disordered, yet he reverse-practiced the Nine Yin True Classic, turning the reverse into the orthodox, his inner strength greatly increased, and his Toad Skill became even more miraculous, its power tremendous.

This fierce battle was indeed a feast for the eyes of Feng Yi and Yang Guo.

Unfortunately, although both had reached the peak of martial cultivation, refined perfection, yet with age their vigor had waned; after over a thousand exchanges, their martial arts were not exhausted, but both felt short of breath, their heartbeats quickened, and their hands and feet inevitably grew sluggish.

Feng Yi had been standing aside, coldly observing the battle; first, to see clearly the two's martial arts routines; second, to wait for the best moment to strike. Only then did he pat Yang Guo's shoulder and say, "The time has come, remember my words."

Yang Guo shuddered, saying, "Good."

Feng Yi said, "Then we'll meet at the Heroes' Convention!"

Feng Yi floated to Ouyang Feng's side and lightly threw a punch, this punch light as a feather yet hard as iron; its force had already enveloped thirteen vital points on Ouyang Feng's back.

Ouyang Feng startled, hastily threw up his palms to block; Hong Qigong blinked, he naturally would not take this advantage.

Who would have thought Feng Yi gave a slight smile, not engaging Ouyang Feng, he turned his body, drew the folding fan from his waist, using the fan as a sword, inscrutable and unpredictable, in an instant he pointed it at Hong Qigong's waist.

Feng Yi knew his fist and foot skills could not defeat Hong Qigong, so he used the fan to execute sword techniques; this fan was the one used by Huo Du, made of pure steel, its sword technique wondrous and fierce, its momentum like a rainbow; Hong Qigong did not dare to be careless, he sidestepped and seized Feng Yi's wrist with a grappling hand; Feng Yi's sword technique was exquisite, as the fan swept halfway, he flicked it sideways, a surge of force shot toward the Quchi point on his wrist.

At that moment Ouyang Feng let out a tiger's roar, about to lunge forward, but he heard Yang Guo call out, "Dad, dad, don't fight, someone is bullying me."

Ouyang Feng blinked.

Yang Guo grabbed him in an embrace, softly saying, "Dad, where have you been these days?" Ouyang Feng glared and said, "I've been looking for you."

Since parting with Yang Guo, he had again been searching for his son; Mount Hua was the site of his two sword debates, he was extremely familiar with the vicinity, walking around here, hearing Hong Qigong speak made it even more familiar, thus he approached and provoked the great battle.

Yang Guo felt a sourness in his chest, thinking, "After all, there truly is someone who loves me so sincerely." He took his arm and said, "Dad, you are Ouyang Feng. This senior Hong Qigong is a good person; don't fight him."

Ouyang Feng pointed at Hong Qigong and loudly said, "He is Hong Qigong, I am Ouyang Feng." He looked at Hong Qigong, then at Yang Guo, his eyes stared blankly, straining to recall and think.

Feng Yi launched a rapid assault; Hong Qigong had never seen this sword technique before, being forced back several zhang; Feng Yi shouted loudly, "Yang Brother, have you forgotten what I said? Take him away!"

Before he finished speaking, Ouyang Feng suddenly shouted, "Old Beggar, we can't decide victory with fists and feet; let's compare weapons."

He snapped off a tree branch, stripped off the twigs and leaves, turning it into a staff, and then swung it down toward Hong Qigong's head.

Yang Guo immediately sensed something wrong, lunged forward, but it was already too late; he grasped at nothing.

Ouyang Feng's snake staff had once roamed the world, immensely formidable; although the staff's tip now bore no snake, the blow descending caused a staff wind that made Feng Yi and Hong Qigong's eyes blur.

Feng Yi silently cursed Yang Guo for not listening.

Even though Yang Guo was clever, he had no foresight; he could not imagine that with these two's astonishing martial arts they could die, nor did he know how deeply Ouyang Feng's hatred for Hong Qigong was etched into his mind.

As for Feng Yi's words, Yang Guo gave verbal assent, but his nature was simply not to fully trust people, something that could not be changed; therefore he thought he would wait until he had spoken clearly with Ouyang Feng before deciding.

Hong Qigong already understood Feng Yi's intention, and hearing Ouyang Feng call him "Old Beggar" showed he had finally recalled some matters; he originally had no wish to continue fighting, but Ouyang Feng would not relent, so he had no choice but to pick up a wooden staff and engage him.

Hong Qigong's Dog Beating Staff Technique was peerless in the world, but he was unwilling to display it lightly; besides, he had many other exquisite staff techniques, which he now employed one after another.

This bout differed from the earlier fist and foot exchange; one saw the staff weaving like a divine serpent, the staff coiling like a celestial dragon, sometimes like a long rainbow spanning the sky, sometimes like a meteor chasing the moon; where it paused, it was like a black snake coiling around a branch; where it was vigorous, it resembled a black dragon riding the clouds.

Only Yang Guo watched, his heart shaken, as if drunk and entranced.

Feng Yi, seeing this, already understood how high these two's martial arts were; it had reached the point where victory depended on luck. No wonder the outcome would be mutual destruction.

Suddenly he said, "Yang Brother, you are viewing it too beautifully; I said if they keep fighting, they will surely perish together—do you think I'm just alarmist?"

Yang Guo remained silent; that was exactly what he thought.

Hong Qigong and Ouyang Feng's martial arts were so high that on a narrow path barely a chi wide, treading on ice and snow, they could still ascend Mount Hua unharmed. Now here, within a radius of several zhang, could anything happen? It's just babying a child. Feng Yi could see at once that this brat was extremely arrogant, thinking he was being alarmist; Feng Yi still could observe the martial arts, seeing this, he also ceased to pay attention, clasping his hands behind his back to gaze at the snowy scenery.

All that could be seen were mist curling about, strange rocks and jagged stones, an austere bearing; the pines and cypresses on the cliffs, their branches layered with light snow, looked like a fairyland on earth.

In an instant, he suddenly understood why the Five Absolutes held their sword debate on Mount Hua, thinking: "If Mount Hua did not possess the lofty, solitary grandeur of a remarkable mountain, and the outstanding talent that stands apart, how could it befit contending for the title of the world's greatest martial artist?"

Thinking back to the first Mount Hua sword debate, when heavy snow sealed the mountain, the Five Absolutes fought for seven days and nights; Feng Yi at that moment felt heroic spirit rising, hard to restrain, and he involuntarily let out a long whistle.

His internal energy was profoundly deep; this whistle sounded like a dragon's roar and a tiger's growl, like thunderous might, like ten thousand horses galloping; the echoes in the valley shook, and snowflakes fell one by one.

After this long whistle rang out, Feng Yi's mood became relaxed, his chest opened, his joy boundless.

Feng Yi's this roar was exhilarating!

But in the fierce battle, Hong Qigong and Ouyang Feng were not pleased.

They suddenly realized that beside them there was still a master not to be ignored.

Hong Qigong laughed heartily and said, "Youngster, since you've arrived at the blessed land of Mount Hua, what's the point of merely watching us fight? Wouldn't that waste all your martial arts?"

Ouyang Feng's cracked bell-like voice also sounded at the right moment: "Old Beggar's right, I recall you've come; your martial arts are not bad!"

Feng Yi laughed loudly: "Then let respect give way to obedience!"

As he spoke, he unfolded his body technique, the folding fan split into two; one part lifted Hong Qigong's wooden staff, the other pointed toward Ouyang Feng's chest.

Ouyang Feng turned his staff to block; at that moment, Hong Qigong floated in, his wooden staff pointing from the side at Feng Yi's waist-eye point.

Feng Yi was engaged with Ouyang Feng, leaping back hastily, but the staff moved faster than his retreat, continually pointing at his waist.

Feng Yi retreated more than a zhang, swinging his fan downward; Hong Qigong's staff suddenly withdrew, then lifted slightly, aiming at several major points on his chest.

Feng Yi raised the folding fan, a sudden "whoosh" rang out; the forceful wind cleared the air, protecting his upper body.

Ouyang Feng glared and shouted loudly, the tree branch tore through the wind, thrusting toward his lower abdomen.

Although Feng Yi was fighting Hong Qigong, he knew well that though the branch was weak, Ouyang Feng's internal energy infused into it could pierce flesh and break bone; even with his silkworm armor, he would suffer, so he immediately grabbed the staff with his left hand, raised the fan, traced an arc, hooked onto Ouyang Feng's branch, and pulled it in and out.

Ouyang Feng's tiger's mouth grew hot, the branch nearly slipped from his hand, and he praised with a "good".

Hong Qigong burst into loud laughter, saying, "Exhilarating!" then whooshed a staff strike, leaping to strike Feng Yi.

This staff strike came straight in unexpectedly ordinary, yet it forced Feng Yi to step aside to dodge.

Ouyang Feng rushed forward again, the tree branch darting up and down, left and right, never leaving the vital points around Hong Qigong's body.

Seeing this, Feng Yi shouted, "A free-for-all is just great!"

He unfolded his body technique, shadows appeared on all sides; only the fan's shadows lay thick, like overlapping waves surging toward Hong Qigong and Ouyang Feng.

The three's bout this time was unlike before.

Feng Yi wanted to overwhelm the two old men with his martial arts; Ouyang Feng's mind was muddled, yet he also held a will to win; Hong Qigong, though indifferent to victory or defeat, still sought to preserve his dignity in old age.

Thus, despite the howling wind and snow, the three twisted and turned, the folding fan, wooden staff, and tree branch all rang out simultaneously; in the intense moments it surpassed just now, the sounds varied, the flavors different.

Yang Guo saw the three advancing and retreating, like chasing eagles; if someone retreated to the cliff's edge, his heart almost leapt out his throat,

Yet the three whirled like a revolving lantern: sometimes Feng Yi attacked Hong Qigong, sometimes Hong Qigong attacked Ouyang Feng, Ouyang Feng then struck Feng Yi; the three tumbled and rolled, exchanging over two hundred moves, with no clear victor.

For Feng Yi was then a fresh force, able to suppress them one-on-one naturally, but this was a three-way melee.

Hong Qigong was upright and magnanimous; when Feng Yi and Ouyang Feng fought, if Feng Yi gained the upper hand, Hong Qigong would attack Feng Yi.

Feng Yi could only defend, naturally unable to cope.

When Feng Yi attacked Hong Qigong, Ouyang Feng also attacked at the same time; Feng Yi could not let Hong Qigong be hurt, so he also struck Ouyang Feng, whereupon Hong Qigong immediately stopped attacking.

When Ouyang Feng and Hong Qigong attacked Feng Yi, Hong Qigong also refrained from taking advantage of an opening, yet Feng Yi still managed to hold his ground.

Thus they fell into a cycle; continuing like this, even if all three were exhausted to death, they could never decide a winner.

Yang Guo was engrossed, now watching these two, now those two, wondering in his heart which of the three was the strongest.

Suddenly Hong Qigong laughed and said, "Little brat, do you want to take on two opponents at once?"

Without waiting for Feng Yi's reply, he shifted his gaze and laughed at Ouyang Feng: "Old poison, if we two can't even beat a little brat, do we still have the nerve to be fierce? Let's first get rid of this kid!"

Ouyang Feng shouted, "Good!" and swung his branch at Feng Yi; Hong Qigong rushed forward with quick steps, his staff flashing like lightning, they jointly attacked Feng Yi.

Feng Yi gave a long laugh: "Just what I wanted!" He flicked his folding fan, producing a gust of wind.

The three whirled about unpredictably, their weapons emitting piercing, eerie sounds, heart‑pounding; in one‑on‑one combat Feng Yi naturally had the upper hand, but the moment the two joined forces, the balance of strength instantly reversed.

Hong Qigong and Ouyang Feng, having been both rivals and friends for decades, wielded a staff that spun and danced, light and agile like a soaring dragon; every point, strike, and thrust aimed at Feng Yi's vital points.

The other's branch coiled, thrust, and drilled, its techniques unfathomable, utterly strange.

The two coordinated perfectly; Feng Yi, never having seen their martial arts before, could only react on the fly, darting in and out, alternating defense and attack, barely managing to withstand over fifty moves; despite his deep internal energy, he too was soon drenched in sweat.

Ouyang Feng coldly said, "Kid, you can't beat us, so you have no right to meddle. I will surely kill that old beggar!" Hong Qigong laughed, "A toad yawning—what big talk!" In the next instant, the staff aimed at Feng Yi was swung toward Ouyang Feng.

Ouyang Feng was exchanging blows with Feng Yi when he was suddenly ambushed; he twisted his body to let the staff pass, this scene made him extremely angry yet oddly familiar, and he shouted hoarsely, "Old beggar, today either you or I will fall!" His branch whistled like a flock of birds, thrusting toward Hong Qigong's chest. He then paid no more attention to Feng Yi.

Feng Yi also immediately retreated.

He had no recourse left.

He wanted to subdue one, but the other would immediately help, exploiting the opening; since he could not withstand their combined force, what could he do? (End of chapter)