The Smiling, Proud Wanderer 38 Chapter Twenty: Imprisonment Part 2

"It took Second Brother a great effort to convince Big Brother and get his permission. You'd rather make more trouble," Mr. Bald-Brush grunted.

"All right! All right! I'll yield a step. I won't insist on watching this match. But you have to promise that it's going to be a fair match and you won't deceive my Brother Feng," Xiang Wentian said with a grin.

"What kind of people did you think we were? We'd never deceive Young Hero Feng!" Mr. Bald-Brush and Mr. Paint cried out with joy in unison.

"I'll wait for you guys in the Game Room," Xiang Wentian said, smiling. "Brother Feng, I don't know what kind of clandestine tricks they are trying to pull here. You'd better keep a weather eye open all the time and be very careful."

"The Plum Manor only has gentlemen with lofty virtues. How can there be anyone resorting to trickery and swindle?" Linghu Chong replied with a smile.

"Right on! Young Hero Feng is not like you, who measure others' corn by one's own bushel." Mr. Paint showed a broad grin.

Xiang Wentian took a few steps and then turned around and waved at Linghu Chong. "Brother Feng, come over here. I'd better exhort you some more so you wouldn't fall for other's tricks," he said, at which Mr. Paint sneered but paid no attention.

"Big Brother Xiang is being too careful. I am not a three-year-old kid. Even if they really plan on fooling me, it's not gonna be easy," Linghu Chong thought to himself as he walked toward Xiang Wentian.

Xiang Wentian grabbed hold of Linghu Chong's hand, and immediately Linghu Chong felt a paper ball placed in his palm. A quick squeeze told Linghu Chong that there was a piece of hard object wrapped inside the paper ball. With a broad smile, Xiang Wentian pulled him closer and then whispered to his ears.

"After you see that person, shake his hands to show your proximity, and then secretly place this paper ball together with the object inside into his palm. This is a very important matter. Don't take it lightly. Hha! Hha!"

When he said these words, the tone of his voice was very solemn, but he kept the broad smile on his face. The laughter at the end simply had nothing to do with his words. Mr. Black-White, Mr. Bald-Brush and Mr. Paint all presumed that he must have been ridiculing the three of them.

"What's so funny? Young Hero Feng, no doubt, has excellent sword skills, but we haven't had a chance to check out the sword skills of Brother Tong," Mr. Paint challenged.

"My sword skills are most ordinary. There's no need to check it out," Xiang Wentian laughed out before waddling out of the room.

"Great! Let's go see Big Brother again," Mr. Paint said merrily.

The four of them entered Mr. Huang-Zhong's Zither Hall once again. Mr. Huang Zhong did not expect their return and had already removed the mask from his head.

"Big Brother, we have finally convinced that Brother Tong. He has agreed to not watch the match," Mr. Black-White said.

"Good," Mr. Huang-Zhong replied. Picking up the black cloth mask, he put it back onto his head.

Mr. Paint pulled out a drawer from the wooden cabinet and took out three black cloth masks. He handed one of them to Linghu Chong and said, "This one is mine. You can wear it. Big Brother, I am borrowing your pillowcase."

He went inside the bedroom and soon returned with a green cloth pillowcase over his head. Two holes had been cut off the pillowcase, showing his two eyes.

Mr. Huang-Zhong nodded his approval and then said to Linghu Chong, "When you have the sword context later, both of you will be using wooden swords in case inner strength is used is used and put Brother Feng into disadvantage."

"That would be great!" Linghu Chong said happily.

"Second Brother, bring two wooden swords," Mr. Huang-Zhong said to Mr. Black-White, who, in turn, pulled another drawer from the cabinet and took out two wooden swords.

"Brother Feng, regardless of who wins this contest, will you please not mention a word to anyone else?" Mr. Huang-Zhong said to Linghu Chong.

"That's of course! I've said before that I didn't come to the Plum Manor to make a name for myself. Why would I want to go out and make it widely known? Besides, there's a high probability that I'll be losing this match. What's there to brag about?" Linghu Chong answered.

"Well, that's not necessarily a sure thing, but I believe Brother Feng is a man of his words and won't let the word out. Will you please also not mention a word about anything you see afterwards, not even to that Brother Tong? Do you think you can do that?" Mr. Huang-Zhong asked.

"Not even Big Brother Tong? After the sword contest, naturally he would ask me about the entire course. If I keep my mouth completely shut, isn't it rather harsh for our friends.h.i.+p?" Linghu Chong hesitated.

"That Brother Tong is a worldly-wise man. Once he is made aware that Brother Feng has made a promise to me, he would understand that a true man's promise is worth one thousand gold and you must make good your promise, then naturally he won't force you to tell against your will," Mr. Huang-Zhong said.

"That's true. I promise you," Linghu Chong agreed.

Mr. Huang-Zhong cupped his hands together. "Thank you for your understanding, Brother Feng! Let's go."

Turning on his heels, Linghu Chong began walking toward the outside. So when Mr. Paint pointed toward the bedroom and said, "This way," Linghu Chong was completely taken by surprise. "How come we are going into the bedroom?" he thought, but then he immediately came up with an answer, "Oh, I see. The person who will have the sword contest with me is a woman. Maybe she is First Master's wife or a female relative. That's why they insisted on not having Big Brother Xiang watching the match by the side. They don't want her to see my face and don't want me to see her face, either, all because males and females should be distinguished. And First Master urged me again and again to not mention a word to anybody else, not even to Big Brother Xiang. If it weren't because it had something to do with a female, why would they be so serious?"

Once he figured this part out, all his suspicions suddenly cleared away, then when he felt the paper ball and the small hard object inside in his palm, he thought inwardly, "It looks as though all Big Brother Xiang's careful and shrewd arrangement only are for one purpose: to enable him to pay a visit to that woman. Since he couldn't see her himself, he entrusted me to pa.s.s a letter and a keepsake to her. Then there must have been some kind of an obscure affair between them. Even though Big Brother Xiang is my sworn-brother, the four Manor Masters have also been very kind to me. If I pa.s.s these along, it would really be unfair to the four Manor Masters. What should I do?" Then he thought, "Big Brother Xiang and the four Manor Masters are all people well above their fifties or sixties. That woman must have not been young, either. Even if there was intertwined love relations.h.i.+p involved here, it had to be a past thing many years ago. I suppose pa.s.sing this letter along wouldn't damage the woman's chast.i.ty."

While he was muttering to himself, the five of them had entered the inner bedroom. The arrangement in the room was very simply, with only a bed and a small table. The gauze bed-curtain hung above the bed appeared antiquated and showed slight yellow. On top of the small table sat a short zither, completely black as though it was made of iron.

"Everything panned out as Big Brother Xiang planned. Alas, his love is so deep, how can I not help him fulfill this wish?" Linghu Chong thought.

He always had a carefree disposition and never cared much about the Confucian code of etiquette. At the moment, he vaguely felt as though that woman had turned into his little apprentice sister, Yue Lingshan, who had married her junior apprentice brother Lin Pingzhi, and he was Xiang Wentian, who was trying every possible way to pay another visit to little apprentice sister after several decades. When a meeting turned out to be impossible, he then tried to pa.s.s along a keepsake from the old days to merely express his feelings and slightly relieve the decades of lovesickness.

"Maybe it was also because of this old lover of his, Big Brother Xiang broke away from the Demon's Cult and didn't hesitate to have a complete fall out with the Chief and his fellow members in the cult," Linghu Chong thought.

Amid his reverie, Mr. Huang-Zhong had already lifted the beddings on the bed, removed the bed board off the bed, exposing an iron plate with a copper ring attached to the top of it. With a tight grip at the copper ring, Mr. Huang-Zhong pulled upward, and a four-foot wide and five-foot long iron board rose up slowly, revealing a large rectangular-shaped opening. The iron plate was at least half-foot thick and appeared to be extremely heavy.

After placing the iron plate on the floor, Mr. Huang-Zhong said to Linghu Chong, "This person's residence is kind of strange. Brother Feng, please follow me." At those words, he jumped into the opening.

"After you, Young Hero Feng," Mr. Black-White urged.

Very surprised, Linghu Chong followed suit and also jumped into the opening. What he saw next was an oil lamp hanging from a wall, which illuminated the surroundings indistinctly. Where he stood now seemed to be the beginning of a tunnel. Following behind Mr. Huang-Zhong he walked forward, and soon Mr. Black-White and the rest of the people also jumped down one after another.

About twenty feet following the pa.s.sageway, the tunnel seemed to have come to an end. Mr. Huang-Zhong took out a string of keys from his chest pocket and inserted one of them into a keyhole. Turning the key several times, he pushed forward; amid a series of scrunches, a stone gate slowly opened up.

Linghu Chong found himself more and more astounded, and at the meantime, felt more and more sympathy toward Xiang Wentian. "They have locked the woman up in a dungeon, then of course she was imprisoned against her will. These four Manor Masters all appeared to be man of kindheartedness and justice; how could they have committed such a contemptible deed?" he pondered.

He followed Mr. Huang-Zhong and entered the stone gate. The tunnel began to descend as the pa.s.sageway extended in front them. After several hundred feet, another gate appeared in front of them, this time, an iron-gate. Taking the string of keys out once again, Mr. Hung-Zhong opened the iron-gate.

The tunnel kept descending deeper and deeper under the ground. By then they were probably over one thousand feet below the surface. The tunnel made a few turns when another gate met Linghu Chong's eyes.

"I had thought that since the four Manor Masters are adept at music, gamesmans.h.i.+p, calligraphy, and painting, the 'Four Arts', they must have been persons of lofty virtues and poetic temperament. Who would have thought that they would set up private prisons and imprison a woman in such a h.e.l.lhole that's completely void of daylight and suns.h.i.+ne?" Linghu Chong felt resentment brewing inside his chest.

When he first entered the tunnel, he had no intention to watch out for the four Manor Masters, but at the moment he simply couldn't help feeling his vigilance growing considerably. "They couldn't defeat me in sword tests. Could it be possible that they have lured me down here so they could imprison me here? There are gates after gates inside the tunnel, no one would be able to escape even if he was furnished with wings." That thought almost made him shudder. But with Mr. Huang-Zhong in front of him, Mr. Black-White, Mr. Bald-Brush, and Mr. Paint behind, and not a single weapon in his hands, he found himself quite helpless.

The third gateway actually consisted of four separate doors. Behind the iron door was a wooden door covered with cotton wadding nailed onto the door plank. Behind the wooden door stood another iron door, behind which was another wooden door covered with cotton waddling.

"Why have they placed two wooden doors covered with cotton wadding in between the two iron doors?" Linghu Chong wondered. "I got it. I suppose the prisoner has very formidable inner strength. The cotton wadding was used to absorb the fierce power from her palm and prevent her from breaking down the iron doors."

For the next one hundred feet or so, there were no more gates along the way. The oil lamps hung from the tunnel wall stood further and further from each other. In some sections of the tunnel, the oil lamps had long extinguished, leaving only complete darkness, and the pack had to feel their way forward for dozens of feet before seeing the next light.

The further they went, the harder it was to breathe, Linghu Chong found. Moreover, the tunnel wall and the tunnel floor had turned awfully damp. Suddenly, a thought came to his attention, "The Plum Manor sits on the bank of the West Lake. After walking for so long, we are probably deep underneath the West Lake by now. This person is locked up underneath the West Lake, not only is it impossible for her to escape by herself, it is also impossible for others to rescue her, because as soon as they dig open the tunnel wall, water from the lake would have poured in from above."

After another thirty or forty feet forward, the tunnel suddenly turned very narrow, and they had to bend their backs to proceed forward. The further they went, the lower they had to bend their backs. Another twenty feet later, Mr. Huang-Zhong finally held his steps and took out his flint to light up the oil lamp on the tunnel wall. Before long another iron-door came into view under the dim light, an iron-door with a square-shaped opening one-foot wide.

"Mr. Ren, Huang-Zhong and his brothers have come to visit you!" Mr. Huang-Zhong spoke toward the square-shaped opening, loud and clear.

"What? How could it be Mr. Ren? Shouldn't the person locked inside a female?" Linghu Chong was taken aback.

But no response came from the inside.

"Mr. Ren, we are very regretful for not having sent our respects to you often. We have come today to inform you of an important matter," Mr. Huang-Zhong spoke again.

Suddenly a hoa.r.s.e voice bellowed from inside the cell, "Important matter my a.s.s! If you've got horses.h.i.+t, unload it now! If not, get the h.e.l.l out of here!"

Linghu Chong was dumbfounded. Instantly, all his previous fancy disappeared like mist and smoke. Not only did the voice belong to an old man, the words this man used were also so crude that they had to come from the mouth of a street vulgar.

"Before, we had always thought that when talking about exceptional sword masters of our time, Mr. Ren would undoubtedly be ranked as the number one on the chart. But how wrong we were! Today we had a visitor to the Plum Manor. The four brothers of us certainly were no match for him; even Mr. Ren's sword art would pale into insignificance by comparison," Mr. Huang-Zhong said.

"He is using mocking words to goad that man into entering a sword context with me," Linghu Chong thought to himself.

The man burst into loud laughter. "You four sons of b.i.t.c.hes couldn't beat him, so you goaded him into sparring with me and hoped that I would take care of this tough enemy for you, didn't you, you sc.u.mbags? Hha, what wishful thinking! Too bad that I haven't touched a sword for over ten years and have completely forgotten all my sword skills. Why don't you just put your tail between your legs and get the h.e.l.l out of here, you b.l.o.o.d.y b.a.s.t.a.r.ds!"

Linghu Chong gasped with astonishment. "This man is so incredibly sharp-witted and could predict with miraculous accuracy. Just from Mr. Huang-Zhong's words he had figured everything out," he thought to himself.

"Big Brother, in no way would Mr. Ren be this person's rival. This person said that n.o.body in the Plum Manor could defeat him, and he wasn't overstating the case. There's no need to talk further with Mr. Ren," Mr. Bald-Brush said.

"Give it up! Provoking me won't cut it. Did you actually think I would do anything for you four b.a.s.t.a.r.ds?" the man named Ren snarled.

"This person has truly mastered the sword skills taught by the venerable Grandmaster Feng Qingyang of the Huashan Sword School. Big Brother, I heard that years ago when Mr. Ren roamed the Martial World, he feared neither Heaven nor Earth, except one person – Grandmaster Feng. Mr. Ren's nickname was something like 'Flee at the Sight of the Wind', and the word 'wind' here refers to the venerable Grandmaster Feng Qingyang. [3] Is that true?" Mr. Bald-Brush asked.

"What stinking fart! Rubbis.h.!.+" the man named Ren roared at these words.

"Third Brother said it wrong," Mr. Paint joined in.

"Why?" Mr. Bald-Brush asked.

"You got one word wrong," Mr. Paint elaborated. "Mr. Ren's nickname is not 'Flee at the Sight of the Wind'. It is 'Flee at the Sound of the Wind.' Now think about it. If Mr. Ren had already had Grandmaster Feng in his sight, the two of them couldn't have been very far from each other, and how could Grandmaster Feng have allowed him to get away? Only that as soon as he heard Grandmaster Feng's name mentioned he starts running right away, restless like a cur stray from his pack…."

"…and hasten like a fish slipping out of the net…," Mr. Bald-Brush added.

"…is he able to keep his head on his neck all the way till today!" Mr. Paint completed the sentence.

The man named Ren seemed to be quite amused by these words and laughed out loud. "You four stinking b.a.s.t.a.r.ds found yourself driven from pillar to post by him, and then thought that you could beg me to take him on. Go jump in the lake. Did you think I am so stupid to fall for your tricks?"

Mr. Huang-Zhong heaved a sigh. "Brother Feng," he said to Linghu Chong, "this Mr. Ren here is already frightened out of his wits simply at the mentioning of the 'Feng' in your name. There's no need for another sword match. We'll just admit that you are the number one sword master in the entire world."

Although Linghu Chong knew that he had imagined everything wrong when he found out that the person was not a woman, seeing him stuck in the dungeon, and obviously for a very long time, the feeling of sympathy soared in his heart spontaneously. From the tone of everybody, he deduced that this person had to be a very senior master with extraordinary Kung Fu skills. So when he heard Mr. Huang-Zhong's words, he objected.

"First Master, it is not true. When Grandmaster Feng discussed sword arts with me, he held this…this venerable Mr. Ren in very high esteem. He said that in regard to sword masters of our time, the revered Mr. Ren was the only person he had admiration for and that if I were lucky to meet this Mr. Ren someday, I must kowtow to him with utter respect and ask for his advice with sincere desire."

These words sent Mr. Huang-Zhong and his sworn brothers in complete shock while that Mr. Ren found himself on the high ropes. Laughing loudly, he said, "Little friend, what you said is very correct. Feng Qingyang is no ordinary swordsman. He, and only he, is capable of recognizing the subtlety of my sword arts."

"Grand…Grandmaster Feng knows that he…he is here?" Mr. Huang-Zhong uttered. His voice quivered and Linghu Chong almost felt he sensed dread in his voice.

"Grandmaster Feng thought that the revered Mr. Ren had retired to a scenery spot in a famous mountain," Linghu Chong decided to run wild with his made-up story. "During the time when he trained me in the art of sword, he had frequently mentioned about the revered Mr. Ren. He said that the only purpose of training in these sword moves was to fight revered Mr. Ren's students. If revered Mr. Ren never existed, then it would have become completely unnecessary to learn these very complicated sword moves."

By then he had become very discontented with the four Masters of the Plum Manor, thinking that the man named Ren must have been a champion of the past, and his captivity in the dark and degrading prison must have resulted from some sort of a despicable plot in secret set up by the four Manor Masters, so even his words carried much ridicule and sarcasm.

"Um, that's right, my little friend! Feng Qingyang really has some good insights. You got the better of these folks in the Plum Manor, didn't you?" The man named Ren asked.

"Well, since my sword skills were taught my Grandmaster Feng, himself, then unless it was you, Mr. Ren, or unless it was a student of yours, ordinary people of course wouldn't stand a chance," Linghu Chong replied.

By saying these words, he had publicly denounced Mr. Huang-Zhong and the bunch. The more he felt how dark, damp, and gloomy the dungeon was, the angrier he was at the four Manor Masters. He had only stayed here for a very short while and was already feeling awfully uncomfortable, but they had locked this senior master in this appalling place, a place completely unsuitable for human inhabitation, for G.o.d knows how many years. That was just atrocious. As the moral indignation grew rapidly inside him, he had no more scruple with the choice of his words, thinking that even if worst came to worst and they killed him on the spot, he wouldn't have cared any more.

When Mr. Huang-Zhong and the rest Manor Masters heard these words, they of course felt much snubbed. But they did lose their matches and had nothing to contradict.

"Brother Feng, what are you…?" Mr. Paint muttered, but after Mr. Black-White gave his sleeve a tug, he held his tongue.

"Very good! Very good! Little friend, you've really given me a vent to my anger. Now tell me, how did you beat them?" the man asked.

"The first person from the Plum Manor to have sword match with me was a friend named Ding Jian with a nickname called something like 'Straight Line Lightning Sword'," Linghu Chong said.

"His sword moves are flash and without substance. He doesn't have any true skills, and all he does is to try to scare people with his sword flashes. You don't have to use any move sparring him. Just place your blade there and he'll send his fingers, wrists, or arms onto your blade and have them cut off, himself," the man said.

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Feeling utterly astounded, the five listeners cried out in unison.

"What? Was I not right?" the man asked.

"You are absolutely right. It's almost like you have seen it with your own eyes," Linghu Chong answered.

"Great! Then did he cut off his five fingers or a hand?"

"I turned my sword blade a little bit," Linghu Chong said.

"Wrong! Wrong! Why be so nice to your enemy? You are too kindhearted and one day you'll for sure get the worse of it. So who was your second opponent?"

"It was Fourth Master."

"Um, Fourth's sword skills of course are better than that 'Straight Line Fart Sword', but not by much. After he saw you defeat Ding Jian, I bet that he'd be using that unique stun of his, which he prided himself on. Ah, what was that sword art called? Oh, yeah. It's called the 'Splas.h.i.+ng Ink Slicing Hemp Sword Art', with something like 'White Aurora Shooting the Sun,' or 'Mounting Flood-Dragon and the Soaring Phoenix', or something like 'Willow Wickers Fluttering in the Spring Breeze'."

Hearing that the man was able to spell out his prided sword moves with such accuracy, Mr. Paint found himself in an even bigger shock.

"Fourth Master's sword art was actually quite clever, except that it has too many flaws when he attacks," Linghu Chong said.

"Hha, Old Feng's student certainly has a few tricks of the trade. You hit the mark with a single comment and have identified the deadly flaw in this 'Splas.h.i.+ng Ink Splitting Hemp Sword Art' of his. Within this sword art of his, there's one move, which he always thought to be the most formidable killer move in the entire sword art, called 'Jade Dragon Hanging Upside Down' where he would bring the sword swis.h.i.+ng down from above with shear force. If he indeed launched this move against a student of Old Feng, then all the opponent had to do was to slice the long sword upward right next to his sword blade, and all his five fingers would have been sliced off, and the blood from his hand would splash everywhere like splas.h.i.+ng ink. It's called the 'Splas.h.i.+ng Blood Slicing Fingers Sword Art'! Hha! Hha!"

"Senior Master can predict with miraculous accuracy. I did defeat him on this move exactly as Senior Master has described. But I have no grudges against him; besides, Fourth Master had feasted me with great wines and treated me very kindly. So in regard to the five fingers, there's no need to slice them off. Hha! Hha!" Linghu Chong said.

By then, Mr. Paint's face looked as though someone had painted it scarlet and violet, and he was well worthy of the name "Mr. Paint". Except that his head is covered by a pillowcase, so no one could actually see his face.

"Bald-headed Third uses a Judge's Pen. His handwriting is no better than a three-year-old kid, yet he loves posing as a lover of culture and even claims that his Kung Fu contains conception from famous calligraphers. Little friend, I am sure you understand that combat with your enemy is an important matter that distinguishes between life and death. Even if one wrestles with all his strength, he is not guaranteed a triumph, where would he find such leisurely and carefree mood to be particular about the style of the inscription or script? Only when your opponent's Kung Fu is far inferior to that or yours, you might be able to tease him or play him, but if the two sides' Kung Fu skills are comparable and you still try to write words with your Judge's Pen, you are only offering your own life with both hands to the mercy of your enemy."

"Senior Masters' words are very precise. The Third Master is a bit too casual when he fights others," Linghu Chong agreed.

When Mr. Bald-Brush first heard the man's comments, he was furious. But the more he thought about these words, the more he found them to be in the right. It was a lot of fun when he permeated calligraphy in his Judge Pen moves, but the power from his weapon did decrease dramatically after all. If it weren't because Linghu Chong held back, even ten Mr. Bald-Brush would have been slain easily. At that thought, he broke into cold sweat.

"To beat Bald-headed Third is as easy as a walkover," the man said with a laugh. "His Judge Pen Kung Fu used to be quite worthy, but he is too bigheaded and would rather add some kind of calligraphy in his Kung Fu. Humph, when elite fighters exchange moves, the outcome is determined from very minor aspects. Treating his own life as a joking matter, it is really a miracle in the Martial World that he was able to stay alive till today. Bald-headed Third, for the last ten years you just holed up and didn't go around the Martial world, didn't you?"

Mr. Bald-Brush let out a snort but didn't answer, when, in fact, a chill just shot down his spine. "He is absolutely right. If I had been wandering in the Martial World in the last ten years, there's no way I'd still be alive today," he thought inwardly.

"Second's Kung Fu with his Magnetic Iron Game Board is genuine talent, though," the man continued. "Once he starts his attack, each move becomes faster than the previous one, and the attack would swamp his opponent like a gust of blizzard or a sudden downpour. It is indeed not easy to withstand for ordinary martial artists. Little friend, tell me how you broke his attack?"

"Well, I certainly dare not to use the word 'break' here. Only that as soon as the fight broke out, I initiated my attack as well as the Second Master and was able to force him into defense," Linghu Chong replied.

"Excellent! How about the second move?" the man asked.

"With the second move, I used a forestall attack again, and Second Master took a defending stance again."

"Excellent! Then how about the third move?"

"With the third move I was still attacking and he was still defending."

"Incredible! In the old times, Black-White was indeed awe-inspiring in the Martial World. By then he used a regular Iron Board, and if anyone could withstand his three consecutive strikes, Black-White would spare his life. Later he changed his weapon to the Magnetic Iron Game Board and gained great advantage in his weapon, consequently, became even more capable. Little friend, you were actually able to force him into three consecutive defending moves, that's excellent! So on the fourth move, how did he counterattack?"

On the fourth move, again, I attacked and Second Master defended."

"Is Old Feng's sword art really this brilliant? Even though to defeat Black-White is not difficult, you were actually able to force him into a defending stance again on the fourth move? Hmm, excellent! Excellent! On the fifth move, it must have been him who attacked?"

"On the fifth move, the situation remained the same."

"Oh!" the man named Ren fell silent. Only after a long pause did he speak again. "After how many of your attacking moves Black-White was able to counterattack?"

"Um…well…I don't remember how many," Linghu Chong answered.

Mr. Black-White picked it up and said, "Senior Master, Young Hero Feng's sword skills are so brilliant that from the beginning all the way to the end, I was not able to attack even once. After over forty moves, I knew I was no match for him so I stopped the match and admitted my defeat." Only by then did he speak to the man named Ren and the tone of his words was unexpectedly respectful.

"Ah!" the man cried out loudly. "This is ridiculous! Although Feng Qingyang is an exceptional talent in the Sword Branch of the Huashan Sword School, Huashan Sword Branch's sword art still has its limit. I'd never believe that someone from the Huashan School can attack Black-White with over forty moves and not let him return even a single blow!"

"Revered Mr. Ren is really flattering me, a junior! This Brother Feng here has well surpa.s.sed his teacher. The level of his sword skills has far exceeded the extent of Huashan Sword Branch. When we look around the entire Martial World, only someone like the Revered Mr. Ren, someone to be considered the mightiest fighter of our time, is capable of giving him some pointers," Mr. Black-White said.

"Mr. Huang-Zhong, Mr. Bald-Brush, and Mr. Paint all sounded very rude while Mr. Black-White spoke with the utmost esteem. But whether they were provoking words or flattering words, their intention remained the same, that is to let this Mr. Ren have a sword contest with me," Linghu Chong thought to himself.

"Humph! Your fawning stinks just the same!" the man reprimanded. "Huang-Zhong's moves and techniques are only on par with that of Black-White's, but his cultivation in inner strength is not bad at all. Little friend, is your inner strength stronger than him, too?"

"I had incurred prior injuries and had lost all my inner strength, that was why First Master's 'Seven-String Invisible Sword' had no effect on me at al," Linghu Chong replied.

The man burst into loud laughter. "That is very interesting. Little friend, I think I'd like to check out your sword art," he said.

"Senior Master, please don't fall for their scheme. The Four Playfellows of Jiangnan want to goad you into having the sword match. But they actually have ulterior motives," Linghu Chong urged.

"What ulterior motives?" the man asked.

"They made a wager with a friend of mine that if any one in the Plum Manor can defeat my sword art, then that friend of mine would have to lose a few things to them," Linghu Chong explained.

"Lose a few things? Um, I suppose they must be rare music scores, game manuals, or probably authentic calligraphy books or paintings from ancient times," the man said.

"Senior Master can foresee with divine accuracy!" Linghu Chong said.

"I only want to see your sword art; we are not having a real fight. Besides, who said I'd be able to beat you for sure?"

"It's practically certain that Senior Master would prevail over me. But we must ask the four Manor Masters to give their words on one condition," Linghu Chong said.

"What condition?" the man asked.

"If Senior Masters defeats the long sword in my hand and win those several treasures for them, the four Manor Masters must open the cell door and let Senior Master leave this place," Linghu Chong explained.

"Little friend has a very fantastic idea. Did Feng Qingyang teach you that?" the man grinned.

"Venerable Grandmaster Feng has no idea that Senior Master is imprisoned here. And I had absolutely no clue about it as well," Linghu Chong said.

"Young Hero Feng," Mr. Black-White suddenly called out. "What is the name of this Revered Mr. Ren? What nickname has he gained from fellow martial masters in the Martial World? Which school was he the Head Master of? Why is he locked up here? Did the Venerable Grandmaster Feng tell you anything about it?"

Facing these four sudden questions from Mr. Black-White, Linghu Chong found himself tongue-tied. Before when Linghu Chong had attacked forty or so moves in quick successions, Mr. Black-White had been able to ward them of with forty or so defending moves. But now when Mr. Black-White suddenly asked him four questions in quick successions as though he was attacking with four moves, Linghu Chong couldn't even fend off any one of them. After some indistinct falters, he said, "Well, I haven't heard any of those from Grandmaster Feng. I…I really don't know the answers to those."

"Right! I bet you don't have a clue," Mr. Paint joined in. "If you had known the cause here, you wouldn't have wanted us to release him. If this man gets to leave this place, then the entire Martial World would have been turned upside down. Countless of people would die under his hands and there will never be another peaceful day in the entire Martial World."

"That's correct!" the man guffawed. "No matter how daring the Four Playfellows of Jiangnan are, they'd never have the guts to let me out of the prison cell. Besides, they are only following orders to watch over this place, nothing more than four puny prison guards. How could they have the authority to release me? Little friend, this request of yours has really elevated their status too much!"

Linghu Chong kept his silence, thinking, "I had the least bit of idea about any of these implications. No wonder only a few sentence into it, I've already given myself away."

"Brother Feng," Mr. Huang-Zhong said, "when you saw how gloomy and damp the dungeon is, naturally you sympathized with this Mr. Ren, therefore, felt resentment toward us four brothers. That only shows the errantry in your heart, and I don't blame you. But did you know that if this Mr. Ren returned to the Martial World, just in your Huashan School, at least half of your people would have been wiped out. Mr. Ren, am I correct on that?"

"You are correct! Is Huashan School's Head Master still Yue Buqun? He is a complete hypocrite. Too bad at first I was too busy, and then fell for a secret plot afterwards, otherwise, I would have tore his hypocritical mask off a long time again," the man scoffed.

Linghu Chong felt big shock in his heart. Though his Master expelled him from the Huashan School and also proclaimed to the entire world, making him the public enemy of all orthodox schools in the Martial World, he always recalled with emotion the kindness his Master and Master-Wife had shown him bringing him up and treating him like their own son. When he heard the man named Ren fouled and insulted his Master, he couldn't help but roar, "Shut up! My Mas…." But he immediately swallowed the rest of the word down, remembering that when Xiang Wentian brought him to the Plum Manor, he had been introduced as the Uncle-Master of his Master. Before knowing whether these people were good or evil, it would have been unwise to reveal the truth.

The man named Ren, of course, did not know the true meaning behind Linghu Chong's roar. While laughing loudly, he continued, "Within the Huashan School, there are of course people I think much of. Reverend Feng is one; you, little friend, is another. And there is another junior of yours called something like 'Jade Maiden of Huashan' Ning…Ning something. Oh, I got it. Her name is Ning Zhongze. That little girl is actually straightforward and heroic. She is a talent. What a pity it is that she had to marry that Yue Buqun like a beautiful flower stuck on a pile of cow dung."

Linghu Chong didn't know whether to laugh or to cry when he heard the man referring to his Master-Wife as a "little girl," so he didn't respond. At least he had favorable comment for Master-Wife and called her a talent.

"Little friend, what's your name?" the man asked.

"My surname is Feng, and my first name is Er-Zhong," Linghu Chong replied.

"Anyone with the surname Feng in the Huashan School can't be bad. Come in here. Let me check out Reverent Feng's sword art," the man said. He had been referring to Feng Qingyang as "Old Feng" at first, but then changed it to "Reverent Feng" later. He must have been quite pleased with the way Linghu Chong talked and turned courteous toward Feng Qingyang in his words.

Linghu Chong's curiosity had been growing constantly for a good while and was very eager to meet this man, to take a look at how he looked and to find out how great his Kung Fu was.

"My shallow sword art is only good for bluffing some people on the outside. But in front of Senior Master, it is nothing more than a laughing matter. But the Revered Mr. Ren is a man with exceptional abilities. Since I am already here, how can I not pay a visit?" he said respectfully.

Mr. Paint moved closer and then whispered to his ears, "Brother Feng, this man's Kung Fu is very bizarre, and the methods he employs are also very sinister. Be very careful. If anything doesn't feel right for you, come back out immediately." His voice was very low, but the caring and concern obviously came from complete sincerity.

"Fourth Master is treating me like a true friend!" Linghu Chong thought inwardly. "I ridiculed him with my words just a moment ago. Not only didn't he bear grudges at all, on the contrary, he sincerely cared for my safety." At that thought, secretly, he couldn't help but feel ashamed.

"Come in! Come in! What are they talking about on the outside, talking so furtively? Little friend, the Four Clowns of the Jiangnan are no good apples. All they want is to have you fall for their trick. Nothing good will come out of their mouths. Don't trust a word from them," the man said loudly.

Linghu Chong found himself wavering, not sure which side he should trust and which side he should help. Mr. Huang-Zhong took out another key from his chest pocket and then turned it several times after inserting it into the keyhole on the iron-door. Linghu Chong had thought that after he unlocked the door, he would go ahead and push the iron-door open, but quite to his surprise, Mr. Huang-Zhong stepped back and Mr. Black-White stepped forward, who also took out a key from his own chest pocket, inserted the key into the keyhole, and then turned a few times. After him, Mr. Bald-Brush and Mr. Paint each took out his key and turned the key in the keyhole respectively.

Linghu Chong suddenly realized, "This Senior Master's status must have been very prestigious. The four Manor Masters each is holding a separate key and it takes all four keys combined to be able to open the iron-door. The Four Playfellows of Jiangnan are as intimate as real brothers, and the four of them are almost like one unity. How come they don't even trust each other?" Then he thought, "A moment ago, that Senior Master said that the Four Playfellows of Jiangnan are only acting under orders like prison guards. They have no authority to release him at all. Maybe it was the same person who appointed them the guard duty who ordered them to each holds a separate key. The turning sounds of the keys were strident and unsmooth, obviously the lock was covered with rust and it has been a long time since the iron-door was last opened."

After Mr. Paint turned his key in the keyhole, he grasped onto the door handle, shook it a few times, and then pushed hard. Amid the loud scrunching sounds, the iron-door opened for a few inches inward. As soon as the door opened, Mr. Paint leapt backward. Mr. Huang-Zhong and the other two Manor Masters also leapt back many feet. Instinctively, Linghu Chong also took a few steps back.

"Little friend, they are afraid of me, but why would you be?" the man laughed loudly.

"Right!" Linghu Chong answered and then stepped forward. Reaching his hand out, he pushed on the iron-door. The hinges on the door were so rusted that he pushed very hard and only was able to open the door two feet wide. Immediately, a strong stale smell filled his nostrils.

Mr. Paint stepped forward and then handed him two wooden swords. Linghu Chong took the wooden swords and held them tightly with his left hand.

"Brother Feng, take an oil lamp with you," Mr. Bald-Brush suggested, taking an oil lamp off the wall.

Linghu Chong took the oil lamp with his right hand and then entered the room. The prison cell was about ten-foot long and ten foot wide. A narrow and long bed lay next to a wall, on which sat a man. Long whiskers and mast aches covered the man's face, making it impossible to see his look. The long beard under his chin almost reached his waist. But his hair, beard, and eyebrows were jet black without even a grain of grey.

"It is so fortunate of me to be able to meet the Senior Master Ren today. I hope I'll be getting many good advice from you," Linghu Chong bowed.

"Don't be modest. I'll have to thank you for coming here to dispel my loneliness," the man grinned.

"You flatter me. Should I put the oil lamp on the bed?" Linghu Chong asked.

"Fine!" the man answered but didn't reach out to get the lamp.

"This prison cell is too small to have a sword fight here?" Linghu Chong thought to himself.

He walked next to the bed and set the oil lamp down. Expediently, he gently tucked the paper ball and the hard object inside into the man's palm. The man was slightly taken aback but still took the paper ball as he asked in a loud voice, "Hey, you four chaps! Are you coming in to watch?"

"The s.p.a.ce is too limited. There's no room," Mr. Huang-Zhong replied.

"Suit yourself! Little friend, shut the door,"" the man said.

"Yes," Linghu Chong answered and then shut the cell door.

The man stood up and immediately a series of slight clanking sounds clanged from around his body as though many thin steel chains were clanking against each other. Reaching out with his right hand, he took a wooden sword from Linghu Chong and heaved a long sigh.

"I have not touched a weapon for over ten years. I wonder if I still remember the sword arts I learned many years back."

Linghu Chong noticed a steel circle around his wrist, and a steel chain attached to it connected all the way to the wall behind him. Another glance quickly confirmed that there were also steel chains shackling the man's other hand and both of his ankles to the wall behind him. Then the four walls grabbed his attention. Under the dim light from the oil lamp, they s.h.i.+ned in dark green – turned out the four walls were all made of pure steel. He figured that the chains and shackles on the man's wrists and ankles must have been made of pure steel, or else, chains this thin wouldn't have been able to restrain a top notch Kung Fu master like him.

The man gave the wood sword a swing. The swing came from above to below and the sword merely moved about two feet in the air, but suddenly loud buzzes echoed in the small room.

"Senior Master, what incredible strength!" Linghu Chong praised.

The man turned around, and Linghu Chong could vaguely see that he opened the paper ball, saw the hard object wrapped inside, and began reading the writings on the paper. Taking a step backward, Linghu Chong intentionally blocked the square hole on the iron-door with his head, so no one from the outside could see what the man was doing. The man's body trembled slightly as though the writings on the paper had greatly agitated him, and the steel chains clanged again and again. But only moments later, he had already turned around, and sharp stares shot out of his eyes.

"Little friend, although my hands cannot move freely, it is not necessarily true that I cannot win over you!"

"As a young and green junior, I, of course, is no rival for Senior Master," Linghu Chong said.

"You attacked Black-White over forty moves in succession and didn't give him any chance to launch his counterattack. You want to give me try?" the man demanded.

"Please forgive my audacity!" Linghu Chong replied and then thrust his sword at that man. The move he used was none other than the exact same first move he had used in the match against Mr. Black-White.

"Excellent!" the man commended and thrust his wooden sword at Linghu Chong's left chest at an angle. It was a defending move that carried strong offence, and an offence move backed by strong defense at the same time, a swift and fierce sword move indeed.

Mr. Black-White watched the fight through the square shaped hole on the iron-door. As soon as he saw this move, he couldn't help but shout, "Brilliant move!"

"Today is you four chaps' lucky day. I am going to really widen your view now," the man chortled.

By then, Linghu Chong's second sword attack had arrived. The man swung his wooden sword outward and pointed it at Linghu Chong's right shoulder, another smart move that had both strong defense and strong offense. Linghu Chong's heart thumped. It felt as though there was not a single flaw in the man's move that he could explorer to thrust forward and attack the opponent's vital points. Having no alternative, he leveled his own sword in a block, tilting his sword tip, implying a possible attack toward the opponent's lower stomach, a defending move that also carried much offense.

"Very clever move!" the man smiled, retracting his sword and swept it to the side.

The two of them went back and forth, and within just a few moments had already exchanged twenty moves or so. But during the entire course, the two wooden swords never even touched each other. The man's sword moves had such complicated variations and movements; ever since Linghu Chong had learned the "Dugu Nine Swords," he had never run into an opponent so formidable and powerful. It wasn't that his opponent's sword moves were void of flaws, but because the moves fluctuated so unpredictably he simply couldn't attack the flaw or crack within. But he sincerely followed the gist in Feng Qingyang's teaching, which was to "conquer a move with no move," and s.h.i.+fted his moves at will. Although the "Sword-Breaking Stance" was only one stance in the "Dugu Nine Swords," it was a combination of the essentials in all the sword arts of various schools and factions in the world. So even though it was "no move," when in fact it built its foundation on all the moves in all sword arts.

The man also noticed that Linghu Chong's new sword moves emerged one after another, and every change seemed completed new to him. Relying on his abundant experience and profound Kung Fu skills, he was able to resolve them one after another, but after over forty moves, he could already feel a slight sluggishness in his sword movement. Slowly, he attached more and more inner strength onto his wooden sword, and every swing of his sword seemed to have created vague echoes of gust and thunder.

But no matter how resourceful the opponent's inner strength was, when those moves met the profound and subtle sword techniques of the "Dugu Nine Swords," they all came to nothing. Only that the man's outstanding prowess in inner strength and his superb ingeniousness in sword techniques had become simply inseparable from each other. Several times the man had already forced Linghu Chong into extremities, where Linghu Chong should have had no choice but to throw down his sword and submit, but Linghu Chong would always be able to suddenly come up with some bizarre moves, which not only rescue himself out of the dead-end position, but also enable him to use the opportunity to launch his counterblow. The brilliance of these moves was simply unimaginably queer.

Mr. Huang-Zhong and the rest three Manor Masters crowded over the iron door and watched through the square-shaped hole. The hole was so small that there was only s.p.a.ce for two persons to watch at the same time, and even with the two persons watching, one had to watch only with his left eye while the other one watched only with his right eye. So two of them would watch for a while before moving aside to let the other two watch for the next while.

At the beginning, the four of them gasped in admiration when they watched the marvelous sword moves exchanged between the man and Linghu Chong, but soon afterwards, they could no long understand the brilliance in the two's sword moves. Sometimes after Mr. Huang-Zhong saw a move, he had to ponder upon the subtlety within the move with all his might. Only after a long contemplation was he able to comprehend. But by then, the two men inside had already exchanged another dozen moves, and he pretty much had been turning a blind eye on how those next dozen moves had panned out. After he finally got over the initial amazement, he couldn't help but wonder.

"It turned out that Brother Feng's sword skills have reached such an extreme. When he fought me earlier, he probably only utilized thirty or forty percent of his true skills. I had thought that my 'Seven-String Invisible Sword' from my zither failed to subdue him only because he had no inner strength. But even if he does have resourceful of inner strength, my "Invisible Sword" wouldn't have had any impact just the same. All he had to do was to launch three quick attacking moves, and I would have no choice but to drop my zither and admit defeat. If it had been a fight for survival, he could have easily blinded my eyes with the jade flute in his first move."

Mr. Huang-Zhong, of course, had no idea that he had really overrated Linghu Chong's sword skills. The "Dugu Nine Swords" was a Kung Fu that turned more powerful when the opponent was stronger. If the opponent were not adequate, then the brilliant techniques in the "Dugu Nine Swords" would not have been applicable. The man Linghu Chong was fighting today was a world-shaking figure in the entire Martial World. The apt.i.tude of his Kung Fu had reached a level that's well out of people's imagination. Only with the stimulation from his extraordinary Kung Fu, were the many profound and subtle aspects of the "Dugu Nine Swords" able to make the most revealing performance. Even if Dugu Seeking-Loss could come back to life, or if Feng Qingyang had come himself, they would have found great joy fighting such a capable opponent. To successfully use the "Dugu Nine Swords" relied on not only a very good understanding of the sword techniques and variations, but also the intelligence of the pract.i.tioner, where the second part played even a bigger part. Once the pract.i.tioner had reached a stage where he could extend at will with no restraints and no boundaries, then the more intelligent the pract.i.tioner was, the more brilliant the sword art would become, and to him, each sword contest would have been like a poet composing a wonderful poem after following his greatest inspirations.

After another forty moves or so, Linghu Chong found himself fighting with greater and greater facility. Many of the clever knacks he used were ones that even Fang Qingyang had never mentioned before. On encountering the brilliant sword moves from his opponent, the "Dugu Nine Swords" spontaneously originated corresponding moves to counter. At the moment fear had been completely cleared off his mind, or in another word, he had been concentrating wholeheartedly in the art of sword, having no leisure for any feeling of fear or delight on his mind. That man changed into eight different styles of advanced sword arts in succession, some uninterrupted and unbroken, some delicate and swift, some others firm and forceful, but regardless of how he changed his moves, Linghu Chong was able to handle the with ease, as though these eight sword arts were ones he had been trained to spar against ever since he was young.

The man suddenly swung his sword in a block and yelled out loud, "Little friend, who on earth taught you your sword art? I don't think Reverend Feng has that capability."

Linghu Chong was slightly surprised. "If this weren't taught by Reverend Feng, who else could have it been?" he uttered.

"That is true! Why don't try this sword form of mine?" the man demanded.

He let out a long howl and suddenly brought his wooden sword swis.h.i.+ng down from above. Linghu Chong thrust out in a tilted angle and forced him to withdraw his attack to block. The man roared again and again as though he had gone completely mad. The more pressing his roars were, the faster his attacks became. Linghu Chong didn't find anything peculiar about this sword form, but each of the thundering roars made his ears buzz uncomfortably and made him feel annoyed and perplexed. He tried to hold his calm with difficulty and continued breaking the opponent's attacks, but suddenly, the man let out an earth-shattering and heaven-battering howl. Linghu Chong felt a loud ring in his ear as though his eardrums had been shattered by the thunderous shock. A strong dizziness quickly consumed him and before he knew it, he had collapsed to the floor and lost his consciousness.

.......

[1] The first temperament of the "Twelve Temperaments" used in ancient music. Huang-Zhong is the lowest out of the twelve and all other temperaments are derived from it.

[2] Chinese idiom. For a frog living at the bottom of a well, because the frog could only see the sky in the shape of the opening of the well, so the frog thought that the sky must have been only as big as the opening of the well. The idiom is used to depict a man of ignorance and with a very limited outlook,

[3] The character "Feng" stands for wind in Chinese.