Smoke of the Past

1

"I WON!" GIGGLING AND TRIUMPHANT, LOTUS HUANG HEADED for the doors.

"You are a disciple of Twice Foul Dark Wind." Tiger Peng leapt over to block her. "I won't make trouble with you. But you cannot leave until you've explained why your shifus sent you here."

"You promised to let me go if you couldn't name the school of my kung fu within ten moves. Surely a martial master like you would not go back on your word?" Lotus smiled sweetly.

"Your last move, Hallowed Turtle Steps, is part of Twice Foul Dark Wind's repertoire. Who else could have taught you that?" Tiger Peng snapped.

"Do you truly think their paltry skills are worthy of my attention? I have never met Twice Foul Dark Wind—"

"We won't be fooled by your lies!"

"But I know them by reputation," Lotus went on, ignoring the interruption. "I know they don't shy from evil deeds. I know they are disloyal to their Master. I know they are cruel and savage in all their dealings. I know they are the most depraved characters of the whole wulin. How could Master Peng think that I am associated with such scoundrels?"

Tiger Peng looked over to his companions. He could tell they were also convinced that she had learned her kung fu from Twice Foul Dark Wind. But no student of the martial arts would heap such insults on their teacher. It would be an irreparable breach of every moral code.

"Young lady, you have won this time. I am most impressed by your skill." He stepped aside. "May I ask your name?"

"Why, thank you. I am Lotus."

"And your family name?"

"Let's just say it's not Peng."

Of the five men of martial learning in the banqueting hall, Lotus Huang had defeated three: Browbeater Hou, the Three-Horned Dragon; his martial brother Hector Sha, Dragon King of the Daemon Sect; and now their friend Tiger Peng the Outlaw, Butcher of a Thousand Hands. The fourth Master, Lama Supreme Wisdom, had suffered an injury from the previous evening when he fought the Taoist monk Jade Sun Wang Chuyi, and was currently confined to his seat.

All eyes were now on the last of their number, Gallant Ouyang. He was their only hope of finding out why this young girl had broken into the palace of the Sixth Prince of the Jin Empire and why she was spying on them.

Dressed head-to-toe in a pure white scholar's outfit, Gallant Ouyang cut a dashing figure among the bulky, bellicose men. He flashed his most winning smile and stepped forward. "I should like to sample a few of my lady's kung fu moves."

Known as the Master of White Camel Mount, he prided himself as a connoisseur of beauty as well as of the martial arts. Together with his uncle, Viper Ouyang, who was one of the greatest martial masters of the age, he was a formidable figure in the Western Regions. Over the years, he had collected – often by force – many pretty girls to serve as his concubines and had taught them kung fu in his spare time. He was in the habit of taking them with him on his travels. On this trip to the Central Plains as a guest of the Sixth Prince Wanyan Honglie, twenty-four of these concubines had come with him, though four had met their end on the journey. The women rode camels and disguised themselves as young men, donning all-white robes.

Lotus looked him up and down. "The girls in white, outside, came here with you, didn't they?"

"The sum of their beauty is less than half of your charm," Gallant Ouyang gushed.

The compliment brought a tinge of pink to Lotus's cheeks. "You seem more reasonable than the old uncles, here."

Gallant Ouyang was sure that he had a collection of beauties to rival the imperial harems of the Jin or Song Empires. Yet the exceptional grace of this teenage intruder eclipsed all his concubines. They now appeared common and repulsive in comparison. Despite her tender age, Gallant Ouyang had been smitten from the moment he caught sight of her. And now she had turned her eyes on him, addressing him with her gentle, soft voice, he could feel the urge to possess her weakening his whole being, and his usual eloquence vanished without a trace.

"I'm leaving now," Lotus said to Gallant Ouyang. "If they try to stop me again, you'll help me, won't you?"

"Of course, but in return you must call me shifu and stay with me always." He found his voice at last.

"Not always, surely?"

"My disciples are unlike any others. Not only are they all female, they are also always by my side, and they all come at once when I call."

"I don't believe you."

Gallant Ouyang whistled and a flutter of white robes appeared. Twenty women filed in and took their place in a line behind their shifu. Some were tall, some short, some slim, some buxom. They were dressed the same, but each was dazzling in her own way. They had been standing at attention near the Hall of Perfumed Snow since the start of the banquet, in case their master needed them.

This was the first time Tiger Peng and the others in the room had clapped eyes on all of Gallant Ouyang's women and they were instantly beside themselves with envy.

Lotus had hoped that the women's entrance would be enough of a distraction to allow her to escape, but Gallant Ouyang was too quick for her, planting himself by the doorway.

Fanning himself idly with his gentleman's folding fan, the leering dandy let his gaze rest on Lotus as his concubines regrouped. They now flanked him protectively, blocking the way out like two screens. Their eyes fixed on Lotus with sadness and jealousy. They knew they were about to lose favour with their fickle master.

Knowing she would not stand a chance against this human blockade, Lotus said, "If your kung fu proved worthy of the title shifu, I'd happily call you that so no-one could trouble me again."

"You wish to try my skills?"

"Indeed."

"It would be my pleasure. I promise I won't raise a hand against you."

"You think you can win without using your hands?"

"You can't imagine the thrill our encounter has given me. How could I lift a finger against you?"

The men sniggered at Gallant Ouyang's suggestive reply – though, having seen her martial skills, they all doubted his claim. Unless he used sorcery, surely there was no earthly way he could defeat her without taking the offensive.

"I don't trust you. You must tie your hands."

Gallant Ouyang obliged, removing his belt and holding it out for Lotus. She took it with a smile, but his confidence made her uneasy.

I'll just have to take it one step at a time, she said to herself as she summoned her internal strength and tugged the belt to test how strong the fabric was. To her surprise, it did not give. Could it be woven from metal threads?

By now, Gallant Ouyang had folded his hands behind his back, waiting for her to bind them.

Lotus wound the belt around his wrists and secured it with a tight double knot. "So, how do I win?"

Extending his right leg, Gallant Ouyang placed the tip of his foot on the ground, three foot from his body. Then, suddenly, he pivoted on his left, quickly scoring a perfect circle, half an inch deep, into the stone floor. His extraordinary control and internal strength was evident to all.

"The first to be pushed beyond the perimeter loses this fight," Gallant Ouyang explained.

"What if we both end up outside?"

"Well, then I lose."

"And, if you lose, you promise you won't stop me from leaving and you won't come after me."

"Of course. But, if you lose, you must come with me without a word. The Masters here will be our judges."

"Alright!" Lotus stepped inside the ring and immediately launched two palm strikes, Willow in the Wind and Stars in the Sky. Balancing supple strength in her left hand with vigorous force in her right, she sliced at his shoulder and his back.

Gallant Ouyang adjusted his stance slightly, but, staying true to his word, did not lift a hand. He simply tilted a little to the side and let the blows fall on him.

Lotus immediately realised her mistake. His superior neigong internal-strength training bounced the force of her blows back at her. She was being attacked by her own inner energy! The impact nearly sent her reeling out of the circle. Fighting him was no longer an option.

She paced along the perimeter, turning ideas over in her head. After a few laps, she announced, "I'm stepping outside this circle now by my own choice, not because I was pushed out by you. You said that if we both cross this line, then you lose. And you also promised that, if you lost, you wouldn't stop me from leaving and you wouldn't come after me." She ambled out of the ring, then quickened her stride in case the men found another excuse to detain her.

Gallant Ouyang cursed himself, but it would be ungentlemanly to break his own rules. All he could do was watch the glittering golden loops bobbing in her hair as she walked away.

Raucous laughter broke out from Tiger Peng. Though he was none the wiser as to why this girl was eavesdropping on them, it gave him great pleasure to see her outwitting Gallant Ouyang.

Just as Lotus was reaching the doorway, she felt a gust of air sweeping overhead and something enormous fell in front of her. She twirled sideways to avoid being crushed. As she found her footing, she was greeted by the sight of the wooden armchair containing Lama Supreme Wisdom, who was half a head taller than her even when sitting down.

The lama pulled out a pair of copper cymbals from his crimson vestment and struck them together before Lotus could say a word.

Clang!

Lotus's ears rang painfully, and she was dimly aware that the noise did not match the cymbals' appearance. They must be made of steel rather than copper.

The harsh sound was followed by a flash. The cymbals were now flying horizontally at her. Their edges glistened with the chill of sharp blades.

They'll cut me in three!

Instead of ducking, Lotus leapt and dived straight at the airborne cymbals. She squeezed between them with a push from her right hand and a tap from her left foot, but the desperate move propelled her headlong into the seated lama. Unable to halt her momentum as she landed, she slammed into the monk's waiting palm, which was raised in his deadliest kung fu, the Five Finger Blade.

"No!" Gallant Ouyang shouted as gasps of shock echoed around the banqueting hall. He lunged, but he was too far away to intervene. He watched the lama's monstrously large hand slap against Lotus's dainty back. The bones of this delicate flower would surely be crushed. Then a shriek tore at his ears and, at the same time, he noticed Lotus flying through the doorway as Lama Supreme Wisdom jerked his hand back.

The monk howled. A peal of laughter from beyond the hall came as the reply.

She didn't sound like she was hurt. The thought was quickly chased away by a torrent of questions in Gallant Ouyang's mind. How had she managed to stay unharmed by such a powerful strike? Did he pull his hand away before channelling his inner strength? But why would he do that?

Lama Supreme Wisdom held up his right palm. It was a grisly sight. The flesh was pierced and torn with dozens of small wounds. He stared at his mutilated hand as he declared in a voice laced with pain and terror: "Hedgehog Chainmail."

"That's the most coveted treasure from the armoury of Peach Blossom Island in the Eastern Sea!" Tiger Peng could not believe his ears.

More interested in Lotus than her attire, Gallant Ouyang slipped outside. The dark night had long engulfed her retreating form, but he was secretly pleased that was the case. If she could get away, that meant she wasn't hurt. I shall hold that heavenly creature in these arms, he promised himself as he whistled to gather his concubines. Together, they headed into the palace grounds to find the beguiling young woman.

"How did the little girl get her hands on something like that?" Hector Sha wondered aloud.

"What is Hedgehog Chainmail, brother?" Browbeater Hou asked.

"You've seen a hedgehog, right?" Tiger Peng answered for Hector Sha.

"Of course."

"She wears this steel shirt under her dress. No weapon, blade or spear can cut through it. And it's covered in short spikes. Like a hedgehog."

Browbeater Hou stuck his tongue out. "Thank the heavens I never tried to punch her."

"I'll bring her back here!" Hector Sha declared.

"Watch out for the chainmail, brother!" Browbeater Hou said.

"Of course! I'll drag her by the hair!" Hector Sha rushed out with Tiger Peng, leaving his martial brother Browbeater Hou scrambling after them.

The Sixth Prince Wanyan Honglie had much enjoyed the diversion. It had granted him further insight into the skills and personality of his wulin guests. But, at that moment, his son Wanyan Kang ran into the hall with the news of his Consort's abduction.

The palace was thrown into a tumult. The Princes organised the search parties, and the lanterns and torches made the black sky as bright as day. The sound of marching soldiers and whinnying horses broke the silence of the night.

2

GUO JING RAN.

He did not care where he was going. He just wanted to get away from the old man who was chasing him. He chose the darkest path at every turn, using his fastest lightness qinggong technique.

Soon, he lost sight of the lanterns from the palace buildings. He had also lost his bearings. He seemed to be in an untended part of the garden, caught among clumps of thorns and strange rocks that jabbed into the earth like swords. His skin was prickled and torn, but he had avoided a worse fate. The old man wanted to drink his blood! The memory of bare teeth snapping at his throat drove Guo Jing through the barbed shrubs.

Aiiiyaaaaaaa! The ground had given away. He plummeted for four, maybe five metres.

Guo Jing summoned his qi to cushion the fall, but his feet found no flat surface on which to land.

Thud! He made contact with something. Round objects. His feet rolled, sending him crashing onto his backside. He tried to push himself up, but everywhere he put his hands he found more of the same curious orbs.

Skulls? A chill ran through Guo Jing. This is where they dump dead bodies in the palace!

"Come out, boy!" the old man shouted.

Never! Why would I let you drink my blood? Guo Jing retorted, to himself. He felt around, seeking somewhere to hide in case the man jumped down. Finding a cavity behind him, he retreated a few steps.

The man raved and cursed, but of course it was of little use. "I'll catch you, even if you have descended into the underworld!" he cried, and leapt into the pit.

Guo Jing realised that he was actually standing at the mouth of a tunnel. He spun around and clambered inside.

The old man followed the noise of Guo Jing groping in the dark. It was pitch black, but he was so confident of his superior kung fu that he had no fear of being ambushed by the young man.

It's like catching a turtle in a tank. You can't run from me! He congratulated himself on having cornered the thief, and hurried after his prey.

Guo Jing soon realised the hopelessness of his situation. When this tunnel comes to an end, I'll be trapped. But what else could he do but push forward?

The old man threw his arms wide, touching the sides of the tunnel as he prowled on through the dark. A single thought circled in his mind: You killed my precious snake and drank its blood. I will claim what's mine and suck your blood dry!

Guo Jing fumbled on for another dozen paces. Suddenly, the tunnel opened up into a chamber, but he could also sense the old man closing in quickly.

Now that his prey was within reach, the man crowed, "You have nowhere to run, boy!"

"Who dares make trouble here?"

An icy voice emanated from the left side of the chamber. These words were spoken softly, but they knocked on their eardrums like bolts of thunder.

Guo Jing's heart thumped loudly, and the old man shivered. Neither had expected to find company in such a place.

"No-one comes out of this pit alive." A ghostly voice. But the shallow breathing made it human.

She sounds sickly, Guo Jing thought, his fear subsiding somewhat.

"I fell into this pit. I was running from—"

The old man now knew where Guo Jing was and he ran forward, his arms flailing. Guo Jing, in turn, was alerted by the sound of shuffling footsteps and he tried to duck out of the way.

The man grabbed Guo Jing's sleeve and the fabric tore with a rip!

"Who comes down here to fight?"

"You don't scare me." The old man's response was not entirely truthful.

"Young man, come here," the strange voice said.

I'd rather put my life into the hands of this— Before Guo Jing could finish the thought, five icy fingers closed around his wrist. An energy of exceptional potency flowed through them. The fingers tugged him from the old man's grip and he lurched, face first, into a bale of straw.

"Grappling technique." The strange voice addressed the old man. "You come from beyond the border?" Her breathing became a wheeze.

It's pitch black down here. How could she tell what kung fu I used? The old man knew he needed to tread carefully.

"I am merely a ginseng picker from the north-eastern borderlands. I go by the surname Liang." He projected his words with internal strength to demonstrate his kung fu. "This boy has taken a valued possession from me. I trust Madam would not interfere in this personal matter."

"Ah, Greybeard Liang, the Ginseng Immortal," she gasped, as if in pain. "For a nobody to stumble into my cave is already an unforgiveable crime. You are a master of the wulin. You should know the rules that govern our martial world. You of all people should realise that your presence here is an inexcusable affront."

Taken aback by how much this woman knew about him, Old Liang said, "May I ask Madam's name?"

The hand clutching onto Guo Jing's wrist shook violently at this innocent question. She spluttered, but no answer came. Then her grip loosened for a moment as she struggled to suppress the groan rising in her body.

She must be in a lot of pain, Guo Jing thought. "Are you unwell?" he asked, with genuine concern.

The Ginseng Immortal, meanwhile, felt less nervous. She might be a kung fu master, but she was either ill or injured. Not a threat, in this state. Safe in that assumption, he gathered his inner strength into his arms and lunged at Guo Jing.

Just as he made contact with the front of Guo Jing's shirt, Old Liang felt a great energy drawing his wrists to the left. He twirled his left hand around to grab the offender.

"Shoo!" The woman struck Greybeard Liang in the back.

The unexpected blow made the old man stumble a few steps, but, using his inner strength, he recovered quickly. Once out of her reach, he called, "Come and get me, crone!" – and waited.

Panting.

And that was it. No sound of any movement. Greybeard Liang knew he was right. The woman could not walk. Guided by her loud, ragged breathing, he edged closer. Then pounced. Suddenly, he sensed something strike his ankle and coil around it.

A whip?

It had come without warning, the air still and silent. Yet the Ginseng Immortal's reaction, honed through decades of combat, was quick as lightning. As the whip curled upwards, he lifted his body and went with it. Then he lashed out with a right-footed kick.

For twenty long years, this kick had never failed him. It was what had made his name. One sweep was enough to annihilate any martial master on the receiving end.

As the tip of his foot hit its target, Greybeard Liang's head smacked into the earthen wall of the narrow underground chamber.

The beginnings of a numbing sensation spread through the top of his foot, five inches from his big toe: his Surging Yang pressure point. If she were to strike it harder, he would lose all movement in his leg.

He wrenched his foot away in a panic and flipped into a somersault to escape.

How could her aim be so precise? It was as if she was fighting him in broad daylight. Was she even human? Her movements were almost otherworldly.

Once Greybeard Liang had found his footing, he swung to face the ghostly woman, guided by her gasping, and thrust out his palm with all his inner neigong power. Though his knee and his head throbbed with pain, he was certain that an opponent who was struggling to breathe would not have the internal strength to counter this blow.

Just then, the sound of joints cracking echoed around the underground chamber. To the Ginseng Immortal's horror, he found her fingertips digging into his shoulder.

Did she just extend the length of her arm?

He lifted his arm to bat away the attacking hand. Her wrist had a frosty chill not born of flesh and blood.

Greybeard Liang had no desire to fight this thing. He dived into a front roll and made for the tunnel, scampering along the passageway. He heaved with relief as he emerged into the night, dumbstruck by the encounter.

Was she human? Was she a spectre? He had never experienced anything like it in all his decades. Now she had the boy, and the precious python blood he had spent so many years cultivating, she would surely drain him dry for her own gain. Was he destined to fail again in his search for immortality?

Just then, it struck him. The Sixth Prince must know about her . . .

At that thought, he hurried back to the Hall of Perfumed Snow to seek answers.

3

"THANK YOU, MASTER, FOR SAVING MY LIFE." GUO JING CAST himself on the ground and kowtowed. Greybeard Liang's footsteps had faded into the distance.

The exertion of the scuffle had turned the woman's wheezing into a hacking cough. It was some time before she was able to speak. "Why did he try to kill you?"

"I came here to find herbs to cure Elder Wang's injury . . ." It dawned on Guo Jing that she was probably yet another martial master in the pay of the Jin Prince Wanyan Honglie.

"Greybeard Liang is famous for his knowledge of medicinal herbs. You must have stolen something very precious."

"I only took some remedies, things that are good for internal injuries. Does Master suffer a similar problem? I have plenty of herbs here. Cinnibar, resina draconis, notoginseng, bear's gall bladder and myrrh. Elder Wang won't need them all. If Master—"

"I am fine! I don't need your help."

Guo Jing mumbled something, but he could not stay silent for long, listening to her pained breathing. "If Master has trouble walking, I am happy to carry my senior out—"

"Senior? What makes you think I'm old?"

Snubbed once more, Guo Jing held his tongue. He wanted to leave, but felt bad deserting her in this dark and horrible place. After a moment, he offered timidly, "If Master requires anything, please allow me to fetch it."

"You are tiresome . . . but you have heart . . ."

Guo Jing felt an icy hand grab him by the shoulder and drag him closer. The grip was so firm it sent a sharp pain down his spine. Then he felt a chill around his neck. She had him in a headlock.

"Carry me out."

I offered to do just that! Grumbling silently to himself, he bent down and lifted her onto his back.

"Remember, I made you do this," the woman clarified as Guo Jing felt his way out of the tunnel. "I don't accept kindness from anyone."

What a strange, proud lady, Guo Jing said to himself. Lotus won't believe me when I tell her what I've just been through.

Emerging from the dark tunnel, he could now see the clear night sky beyond the mouth of the pit. The ascent was steep, but he had climbed cliffs more treacherous than this nightly in Mongolia as part of his training.

"Who taught you lightness kung fu?" Her fingers tightened around Guo Jing's throat.

Gasping for air, Guo Jing summoned his internal strength to push back. The woman dug her fingers in harder. She wanted to make him reveal the depth of his training.

"You practise orthodox neigong technique." She loosened her grip somewhat. "You said this Elder Wang was injured. Tell me his full name."

"His name is Wang Chuyi. He is known as Jade Sun."

Guo Jing answered out of respect for her seniority, but inside he felt rather mistreated. You saved my life; I'd have told you the truth anyway. You didn't have to use force.

A shudder ran through the woman. "You are a disciple of the Quanzhen Sect? That's . . . wonderful."

Guo Jing wondered what had softened her tone. She sounded almost pleased.

"Why do you call Wang Chuyi 'elder' instead of 'teacher' or 'martial uncle'?"

"I am not a disciple of the Quanzhen Sect. But Elder Ma Yu the Scarlet Sun did teach me some breathing techniques."

"So you were trained in Quanzhen internal-strength kung fu? Very good . . . Who is your Master, then?"

"I have seven mentors. They are known as the Seven Heroes of the South. My First Shifu is Flying Bat Ke, the Suppressor of Evil."

A violent fit of coughing overcame the woman. When she recovered, she spat the name out like a bad taste in the mouth: "Ke Zhen'e!"

"That's right."

"You came from Mongolia?"

"Yes."

How does she know? Guo Jing wondered.

"Your name is Yang Kang, is it not?" She was now speaking slowly and deliberately. The chill had returned to her voice. In fact, she sounded more menacing than before.

"No, Guo Jing is my name."

The woman pondered his answer. "Sit down."

Guo Jing obeyed without a word as she took an object from inside her shirt and put it on the ground. It gleamed under the stars.

Guo Jing picked it up. It was the dagger he had kept since he was a boy. A gift from his mother.

Twelve years had passed since he last held it. He remembered that night very well. Climbing up the mountain on the Mongolian steppe, hoping to learn kung fu from the seven strangers he had met that morning. As he reached the top, he got caught up in a bloody fight between his future shifus, the Seven Freaks of the South, and the terror of the martial world, Twice Foul Dark Wind. He pulled out the knife to defend himself – and the seven strangers who were so kind to him that morning – and buried it in the stomach of the man who had caused the carnage, the man who killed the Fifth Shifu he never got to know. That man was Copper Corpse Hurricane Chen, one half of Twice Foul Dark Wind.

But Guo Jing did not know the story behind the dagger. He had not yet learned to read, when the blade was his. He did not recognise the characters carved into the hilt as a name. Yang Kang. Vitality Yang. He did not realise his fate had been entwined with that of this Yang Kang even before he was born. He had no idea the knife was one of a pair given to his father and his father's best friend by a Taoist monk when his mother was with child. Or that his father and his friend exchanged these little swords to seal a pact of marriage if one had a boy and the other a girl, or of brotherhood if their children were of the same sex. That was how the dagger with the name Yang Kang had ended up in Guo Jing's possession.

The young man was also not aware that he had in fact met this Yang Kang in combat not two days before, or that he had already come face to face with Yang Kang's mother and father, as well as the man Yang Kang thought was his sire.

And yet, he had heard the name Yang Kang before. Indeed, it had been uttered this very evening in the palace – by the Prince's Consort.

The woman snatched the knife back. "You know this dagger, don't you?"

"Yes," he answered, unaware of the bile evident in her voice.

Guo Jing, by nature, was a trusting, artless creature. This aspect of his character had only been amplified by growing up among the straight-talking, hospitable men of Mongolia. Because she had saved his life, he had made up his mind that this sickly woman on his back must be kind-hearted and that he must repay her with honesty. Even when she spoke in such an alarming tone, it did not occur to him to turn and look at her face.

He then added, "I stabbed an evil man with this dagger when I was a child. He disappeared, along with—"

The hand tightened over Guo Jing's windpipe, squeezing hard. He thrust back with his elbow, but, instead of freeing himself, all he managed to do was to offer her his wrist, which she locked in an iron grip between her fingers.

Now the woman took her hand off his throat and slid down from his back. Once settled on the ground, she barked, "Look at me!"

Then she crushed her fingers together.

The pain from his wrist sent a firework of stars across Guo Jing's eyes. He fought to focus. Long, unkempt hair. Skin pale as paper. He knew her. Iron Corpse Cyclone Mei. The other half of Twice Foul Dark Wind.

He struggled with all his might to wrench free, but she dug her claws deeper into his flesh.

How can it be? I was saved by Cyclone Mei? Impossible! But it is her! The absurdity of the situation cut through the fear, panic and pain that seized Guo Jing.

The irony of this encounter was not lost on Cyclone Mei either. But was it fortuitous? She began to wonder. She had searched and searched, without luck, for more than ten years for the owner of this dagger. And now he had come to her.

Seeing the recognition in the young man's eyes, she locked him by the throat again. However, her fingers stayed slack as her focus started to drift from the here and now.

Sweet bastard husband, did you deliver your murderer to me? Dearest filthy dog, do you think of me from the underworld? Do you know revenge has been the only thing on my mind since that horrible, horrible night?

She threw her head back to look at the stars, but her eyes were cloaked by an unceasing blackness. She tried to stand up, yet the lower half of her body stayed limp and motionless.

My internal-energy flow must have taken a wrong turn. If Shifu was here, he'd point me in the right direction, and I'd be able to walk again. If Shifu was here, he'd teach me, he'd explain patiently. Even if I had a thousand, ten thousand questions. Shifu . . . Shifu, I wish I could hold your hand once more. Would you . . . Would you teach me again?

Waves of memories and emotions long suppressed surged through Cyclone Mei, lapping at the fringes of her mind.

4

FLORA MEI.

That was the name my doting parents gave me. I spent my days playing and did not have a care in the world. Then they left me to fend for myself in this world.

My father's brother and his wife took me in. When I turned eleven, they sold me for fifty taels of silver to a wealthy family, the Jiangs of Jiang Village in Shangyu County.

I became a maidservant.

Master Jiang was kind at first, but the mistress was always cruel.

And soon I turned twelve.

I was doing laundry by the well and Master Jiang approached me, a smirk on his face.

"The little lady is growing prettier by the day." He stroked my cheek. "You'll be a great beauty before you turn sixteen."

I turned away from his touch and ignored him. Then his hand crept down to my bosom. I shoved him aside. I had been doing laundry, so my hands were covered with soap bubbles and they stuck to his beard. It was an absurd sight and I could not help but laugh.

Thump! My head split with pain. I almost fainted.

"Little vixen! Are you seducing my husband already?" The mistress struck me over the head again and again with a wooden staff.

I fled. But she quickly caught up with me and pulled my hair, yanking my head back.

"Strumpet! I'll smash your face! I'll pluck out your eyes!" She swung the staff at my face and jabbed at my eyes with her pointy nails.

I shrieked and pushed her back. She fell on her backside and that made her blind with rage. She screamed and yelled. Three older maidservants rushed over, grabbed hold of my arms and legs and dragged me into the kitchen. She had them press me down on the floor and made a show of heating the fire tongs in the stove until they were red hot.

"I'll brand your face. I'll sear your eyes. I'll make you blind and ugly!"

"No! My lady! Please!"

I fought, but I could not break free. I screwed my eyes shut. The heat was inching closer and closer.

Suddenly, a clatter.

"Have you no shame?!"

The searing heat melted away. The pressure on my limbs vanished. I scrabbled to pull myself up.

A man in a light green robe hoisted the mistress by the back of her collar. Her whole person was lifted from the ground. He held the fire tongs in his right hand, inches from her face.

"Help! Help! Bandit! Murder!" Mistress Jiang screeched like a pig at the slaughter.

Several male servants came running in, armed with batons and pitchforks. The man extended his leg and flicked his foot. One by one, they flew out of the kitchen and into the courtyard.

"Sir! Have mercy!" The mistress changed tactic.

"Dare you do this again?"

"Never! Sir can come by to check."

"You think I have nothing better to do? Let me gouge out your eyes first."

"No, sir, please! Take the maid. A gift – for my trespasses."

He let her go and the mistress collapsed in a heap. She scrambled onto her knees and knocked her head loudly against the floor in a great show of submission and gratitude.

"Thank you, merciful sir! This girl is yours. We paid fifty taels of silver for her. But she is yours for free."

"I don't want a gift. You would have killed her if I hadn't stepped in." The man took a large sycee ingot of silver from his robe and threw it on the floor. "That's a hundred taels. Put it in writing that she is free."

The mistress ran into the house, dripping tears and snot. She soon returned with the note of my freedom, as well as Master Jiang. His cheeks were red and swollen. She must have slapped him very hard.

I kowtowed to thank my saviour.

"Stand up and come with me." He was so slender and his face so serious.

"I shall give my whole being to serving Master," I promised as I bowed on my knees.

"You shall never be in servitude again. You are to become my disciple." A smile tugged lightly at the man's lips.

He was Apothecary Huang, Lord of Peach Blossom Island. He became my shifu. He had already taken five protégés by that time, the most senior being Tempest Qu, followed by Hurricane Chen. The remaining three – Zephyr Lu, Galeforce Wu and Doldrum Feng – were a little younger than me.

Shifu gave me a new name: Cyclone Mei.

SHIFU TAUGHT me kung fu. He also taught me how to read and write. When Shifu was busy, he had Brother Tempest Qu look after me. He was our eldest martial brother and learned in both the martial and the literary arts. He was also a painter. He enjoyed discussing poetry and lyrics with me, explaining their meanings and nuances.

In no time at all, I had turned fifteen.

I was now much taller and my hair had grown lush and long. When I caught my reflection in the water, I had to admit that I had grown quite pretty.

From time to time, I would catch Brother Qu's eyes lingering on me. I felt shy under his gaze. He was thirty – twice my age. Tall and thin, like Shifu. He had the same melancholic air, too. Always frowning, never happy. But he did sometimes crack jokes when I was around, to make me laugh. He also liked to tell me about the ancient poems Shifu copied in his precise calligraphy.

One day, Brother Qu silently put one of Shifu's manuscripts on my desk while I was doing my daily penmanship practice.

One playing a game with coins on the stairs,

One passing by the bottom of these steps.

Our encounter was lodged in my heart then,

And ever more so now.

Written in black ink, on white notepaper, in Shifu's hand – gallant, wiry and angular. I looked up. Tempest did not seem to be his usual self. There was a strange glint in his eyes.

"Did our shifu write this?"

He nodded and laid another sheet of paper over the one he had just placed on my desk. Also in the same dashing handwriting.

Southern willow,

Its tender leaves yet to grow lush.

Fourteen, fifteen,

Idly with the pipa lute in hand, searching.

Our encounter was lodged in my heart then,

And ever more so now.

I could tell something was not right, but I could not put my finger on it. I felt my cheeks grow hot, my heart beat faster. I wanted to stand up, to step away.

"Little sister, do sit down."

"Is this also by Shifu?" My voice sounded feeble.

"It is his handwriting. Ouyang Xiu wrote the poem."

I heaved a sigh. My body relaxed.

"In this lyrical poem, Ouyang Xiu revealed the feelings he had developed for his niece. When she was twelve or thirteen, he saw her playing a game of coins with her friend, laughing and running around the courtyard. He was struck by her beauty, the pureness of her energy. She was even more beautiful by the age of fourteen or fifteen, but Ouyang Xiu was an old fellow in his fifties, and he could only 'lodge the feelings in his heart' and pour them out again in his writing.

"This personal verse actually caused quite a stir when it was somehow circulated. Ouyang Xiu was an important government official and greatly admired for his morality. But this composition led to criticism and a backlash at court. To be honest, nothing in the poem breaks the bounds of any ethical codes. He was stirred by her beauty and youth and put his feelings into words, but he never acted on his compulsions. There was nothing to make a fuss about. Do you know why Shifu likes this poem so much?"

Tempest waved a wad of paper. Each inscribed with the same verse:

Our encounter was lodged in my heart then,

And ever more so now.

"Do you see, now?"

I shook my head.

He leaned in. "You don't?"

I shook my head again.

"Then why are you blushing?"

"I'll tell Shifu."

The blood drained from his face. "Please don't! Don't say anything to him. He'll break my legs."

His voice was unsteady. He must have been really frightened. But then we were all a little afraid of Shifu in our own way.

"Of course I won't! I'm not a fool – I don't go asking for trouble."

"Has Shifu ever raised his voice at you?"

NO, HE hadn't. Shifu had never once raised his voice at me.

But he would raise his hand at Hurricane when Brother Chen's rough speech riled him. Hurricane could tell when Shifu was about to hit him, and he would dart and dodge, beautifully agile in his superb lightness kung fu. But Shifu was always faster, smacking him on the top of his head, ever so lightly.

Shifu would also ignore Galeforce for days when his headstrong student got too argumentative. It troubled Brother Wu so much that he sank to his knees and knocked his head against the ground to beg for forgiveness. In response, Shifu would flick a sleeve and send him flying in a somersault. Galeforce always made sure to make a clumsy spectacle of his fall, dust and earth all over his face. The display would make Shifu chuckle and all would be well again.

Whereas Shifu was always kind to me. He never even darkened his countenance on my account, though sometimes his brow would furrow as though something were troubling him.

And I always knew what to say to cheer him up.

"Shifu, why are you upset? Is it something Brother Chen or Brother Wu has done?"

"I wish it were them. I'm angry at the heavens."

"Why?"

"You won't understand."

I would take his hand, then, swinging it back and forth lightly. "Please, Shifu. Tell me. If you explain, then I'll understand."

It always worked.

Shifu would smile, go to his study and come back with a few sheets of poetry written in his calligraphy.

But, after that exchange with Brother Qu, I grew wary whenever Shifu brought out his poems. I would blush and avert my gaze. I feared reading those lines again.

Thankfully, it was something else:

Verses by Zhu Xizhen

Copied by Old Heretic Huang

Men aged, things changed.

No desire to drink amid flowers as tears stain my clothes.

Now I but wish for sleep with the door shut,

Let plum blossoms fly like snow.

An old man can never regain the joy of youth,

Resentful of wine and tired of music.

With the twilight once more comes storm and rain,

Outside the wind chimes strike a broken tune.

The poet has aged,

He cares not if the peach blossoms still smile as old.

The east wind blows ten thousand li,

The realm red and broken under the setting sun.

Things bygone, hero's tears, wrinkled face.

Bemoan the westward dusk,

Rue the night tide's return.

"Shifu, why do you always write about being old? You're not old," I said, commenting on the inscription. "You're in your prime and your martial skills are incomparable. None of my brothers is as strong as you."

"Everyone grows old. You are in the blossom of youth, but decay is the only prospect for me.

Grief for the grey hair reflected in the mirror,

Silken black at dawn, snowy white at dusk."

"Shifu, come, sit down. Let me pluck out those pesky greys." I pulled one from his temple and showed it to him. He blew at it. A deep, powerful exhalation. I let go. The strand flew out of the window and high up into the sky.

"A feather of lofty heights among ancient clouds," I said, trying my hand at poetry. "Shifu, someone as knowledgeable as you only comes along once in a thousand years."

"Cyclone, you know how to make me smile. But no knowledge can keep me from growing old, or keep you from growing up. One day, you will leave your shifu."

"Shifu, I won't grow up!" I took his hand and made a promise. "I will stay with you and learn from you all my life."

"That's child's talk." A rueful smile. "Ouyang Xiu said it well in the lyrics set to the tune of 'Settling Wind and Waves':

Sitting by the blossoms, wine in hand, I wish to ask my gentle friend,

Is there a way to hold on to spring?

If only spring could be persuaded to stay.

Empty words,

Flowers, which care not for sentiment, look on men of feeling.

All that blooms must one day wilt.

Since time bygone,

How oft would that face of rouge blossom anew?

"You will grow up, Cyclone, and no internal kung fu can defy the heavens. If he wants us to grow old, we will."

"I will learn from you all my life, Shifu. I will wait on you until you are a hundred years old – two hundred years old!"

"That's sweet of you." Shifu shook his head and returned to the security of verse:

"Treasure spring when it comes,

Precious,

Realise flowers will not bloom forever.

Waking after drinking, my gentle friend is gone.

A thousand times,

Whether wind or water, the current carries you away."

"Shifu, come wind or water, Cyclone Mei won't be carried away! I will stay here and focus on learning the Divine Flick."

"You do know how to take my mind off my troubles. I shall teach you that kung fu tomorrow."

I RECALL asking Brother Qu a question once: "Why does Shifu call himself Old Heretic Huang? It's such a horrible name. He's only a decade or so older than you. He's neither old nor a heretic."

"He'd be so pleased to hear that." Tempest broke out one of his rare smiles and told me Shifu's story in great detail.

"Shifu came from a literati family of great power and influence in the Zhejiang area, not far from our capital, Lin'an, today. His ancestors served our founding Emperor and performed great deeds, so, for generations after, they were granted noble titles and held important positions at court.

"Shifu's grandfather was the Censor-in-Chief during the reign of the Gaozong Emperor, in charge of uncovering misdeeds and corruption among the Empire's officials. When the villainous Chancellor Qin Hui imprisoned General Yue Fei, Shifu's grandfather petitioned again and again for the General's release. His persistence enraged the Emperor and Qin Hui; he was removed from his post and demoted. He continued to petition for the patriotic General even though he had been barred from court, inciting officials and the common people to rise up in support of Yue Fei. For that, Qin Hui had Shifu's grandfather executed, and exiled his family far into the south-west borderlands to serve in the army. That is why our shifu was born in Jang Satam.

"Shifu grew up receiving training in both the martial and the literary arts. When he was a boy, he vowed to avenge General Yue and his grandfather by bringing down the Song court and assassinating the Emperor and his corrupt officials. But the culprit, Qiu Hui, was long dead, and Emperor Gaozong had grown even more muddled with age. Shifu's father tried to rein him in with the way of the sages – loyalty to the rulers and deference to the family – but he refused to obey blindly and always argued back.

"Eventually, after one particularly heated disagreement, his father threw him out. Shifu travelled all the way back to his homeland, Zhejiang – not to Lin'an, to take the imperial examination, but to Qingyuan prefecture, to vandalise the Hall of Ethics at the Confucius Temple. He also posted notices inside the Imperial Palace and outside the Chancellor's Office and the Ministry of War, in Lin'an. He even went to Quzhou to nail protest letters to the doors of Confucius's descendants who had retreated south with the Song Empire after the Jurchen invasion. These inflammatory, iconoclastic statements pointed the finger at the corrupt court and refuted Confucian teachings, proclaiming that a campaign to recover lost territories in the north was the only just course of action.

"The court sent soldiers and cavalrymen in their hundreds to hunt him down, but how could they ever subdue our shifu? His supreme kung fu, his open apostasy, together with his utter contempt for authority, earned him the name the Heroic Heretic in the jianghu, across the rivers and lakes of his native land. He gave voice to thoughts the people were too frightened to say out loud.

"Some years ago, a long-forgotten text known as the Nine Yin Manual was discovered and the scramble over its ownership led to great carnage in the martial world. It was an anthology of the most profound and powerful kung fu from every martial branch under the heavens, with detailed instructions for attaining these skills. Whoever had possession of the book would hold immense power and knowledge, making them invincible in the wulin.

"The Quanzhen Sect leader Double Sun Wang Chongyang sought to end the senseless killing, and organised a melee, stating that whoever could demonstrate the finest martial skills would be the work's custodian. He invited the greatest to this tournament. Five men took part in what we now call the Contest of Mount Hua – our shifu, Heretic of the East, together with Venom of the West, King of the South, Beggar of the North and Central Divinity Double Sun Wang Chongyang.

"It was a fierce competition, but ultimately they all agreed that Central Divinity was the strongest and most deserving. A Taoist monk, he was upright, fair and kind. His pursuit of celestial enlightenment meant he had little concern for earthly reputation. Most importantly, Wang Chongyang was not interested in using the power conferred on him by the Manual to suppress others."

For all of us on Peach Blossom Island, it was hard to imagine someone more skilled than our shifu, but that was the way of martial training. As Brother Qu put it, "Above the sky is a loftier heaven, beyond the man a mightier body."

Waking after drinking, my gentle friend is gone.

Whether wind or water, the current carries you away.

And then, one day, the verse Shifu quoted came true.

One morning, Shifu woke up and I was gone. Carried away by my second-eldest martial brother, Hurricane Chen.

His thick eyebrows, his intense eyes, Hurricane was a man of few words. He did not talk to me much, but his eyes were always on me. He looked at me so intently – it makes me blush to think of it – I had to turn away.

When the peaches ripened on Peach Blossom Island, he always left the biggest, juiciest ones in my room. He put them on my table and left without saying a word.

We were almost the same age. He was just a little bit older. Tempest was more than a decade our senior, Zephyr was a couple of years younger, whereas Galeforce and Doldrum were little boys in my eyes.

Hurricane's manners were as rough as his sinewy physique.

"Dainty thief, let's pinch a few peaches." He grabbed my hand.

I waved him away. "What did you call me?"

"We're stealing peaches. What does that make us? Thieves. And the next rosy peach this burly rogue will take is his dainty thief."

I pretended to ignore him, but a sweet giddiness I had never known spread inside me.

He led me to the orchard after nightfall. We picked many, many peaches and carried them back to my room. He set them down on the table in the dark and wrapped his arms around me. I squirmed and struggled, but, the moment he whispered into my ear, I lost all my powers of resistance.

"I want you to be my dainty thief always."

I felt myself melting into him.

A FLUSH of crimson warmed Cyclone Mei's cheeks and her wheezing suddenly sounded worse.

Guo Jing could pick out gasps and sighs and snatches of words as she heaved air into her lungs.

"Why?" she rasped. "Why?"

They were still sitting on the ground, not far from the pit. Her fingers were still around his neck.

"Why break his legs? Why banish him?"

Cyclone Mei held revenge literally in her hand, yet her grip seemed to be loosening.

BY THE time I was eighteen, I understood why Tempest looked at me that way. I knew what it meant. He was a widower with a young daughter and I had been swept away by my Hurricane. I needed to avoid his eyes.

One night, when my burly rogue was holding me, in bed, someone shouted outside my window.

"Hurricane Chen, come out, you bastard!"

Brother Qu.

Hurricane pulled on his clothes and rushed out. Immediately, a gust of wind rustled the paper in the wooden window frame. They were fighting!

"Tempest, please, forgive us!" I implored from inside.

"Forgive you? 'Our encounter was lodged in my heart then, and ever more so now.' Who wrote those words? I can forgive you, but I doubt Shifu will."

Thwack! Someone had taken a heavy blow.

"You intend to kill me?" It was my storm speaking.

"Cyclone, you said you'd learn kung fu from Shifu all your life. You said you'd serve him forever. You lied!" Tempest had never been so angry with me.

"Why does it bother you?" Hurricane would not let anyone speak rough to me. "You're jealous, aren't you?"

Shadows flitted and swirled. My kung fu was not good enough to catch what was happening.

Then Hurricane's body flew up and hit the ground with a thud!

"I am not jealous. I'm doing this for Shifu. You will pay with your life today, you ungrateful dog!"

I leapt through the window and shielded him with my body.

"Brother, have mercy!"

Tempest took one look at me, sighed, and walked away.

IN THE morning, Shifu summoned the three of us. I was too scared to look at him and kept my eyes on the ground, but I could sense the sadness that was engulfing him.

"Why?" Shifu's voice was almost tearful. "Why?"

Hurricane decided to answer for us all.

"Brother Qu is jealous. He wants to kill me because Sister Mei and I are together."

"Tempest, it's futile." Shifu shook his head and sighed. "This is fate."

I fell on my knees in tears. "Shifu, it is my fault! Please don't blame Brother Qu."

"Why did you recite that poem, Tempest? Why did you say Cyclone lied to me? Why did you say she broke her promise of waiting on me for a lifetime? Why did you eavesdrop on us? Do you think I didn't know you were listening? Well, you've grossly underestimated me. And what grievances have I got? If I had any, do you think I would need another to act on my behalf? If I ordered you to confront them, then, yes, you could assume that I was jealous, but I never sent you to do what you did. Hurricane, Cyclone, out!"

A swing of the wooden staff and the bones in Brother Qu's legs were shattered. Shifu then announced, "Tempest Qu broke the rules of our house. A disciple of Peach Blossom Island he shall no longer be." Then he ordered the servants to take Brother Qu to Lin'an.

From that day forward, Shifu would not speak to Hurricane or to me. He also stopped teaching us kung fu and left the island soon after. He travelled to Qingyuan and then Lin'an. When he came back, it was two years later, and he was married.

Shifu's wife was very young. She and I were born in the same year, the Year of the Monkey. Her birthday was in the tenth month, so she was actually a couple of months younger than me. She was beautiful, her skin unblemished and smooth like milk. No wonder Shifu was so enamoured, taking her on all his travels. Shimu was not trained in the martial arts, but, like Shifu, she had a great love for literature and calligraphy.

One day, Shimu said to me, "Shifu has told me many times how good you are, how loyal you are to him. He also says that you had a difficult start in life and bids me again and again to treat you well. He doesn't understand anything about our sex, but he is very remorseful that he wasn't able to look after you better as you were growing up on this island. I want you to know that, if there is anything I can help you with, you can come to me."

I was moved to tears. "Shifu couldn't be more kind. He couldn't have looked after me better. We're all very pleased to see how happy he is now that he has found you."

"I know Shifu hasn't been teaching you kung fu; rest assured, it has nothing to do with you. Shifu and I came across a martial-arts tract called the Nine Yin Manual on our last trip. Inside, there was a strange passage that makes no sense. You know how fond he is of deciphering codes and riddles, and how he never lets anything beat him. We've been working on this text since our return and we still can't make head nor tail of it. You know what he's like. He's now refusing to do anything else until he's figured it out. That's why he has been keeping to himself."

She pointed at two volumes on her desk. "There it is. I don't know why he's so interested in someone else's martial secrets when Peach Blossom Island already possesses skills that are unrivalled in the heavens and on earth. But then I guess I share the same sentiment when I see an exceptional verse; I won't rest until I've learned it by heart and understood its craft inside out."

ONE MOON Festival, Shimu prepared a banquet to celebrate with all of us, and Shifu drank heavily throughout the meal. When she went to the kitchen to prepare the soup course, Shifu mumbled to himself, "Now, no-one can say Old Heretic Huang wanted to marry his own disciple . . . How is Tempest? I bear no grudges. How are his legs?"

Those words affected Hurricane. A while later, he said to me, "Do you recall Shifu's words on Moon Festival? He let slip his feelings about Tempest. If Brother Qu returns, he won't let me live. Dainty thief, let's live up to our names and steal that Nine Yin Manual." He reminded me of the conversation I'd had with Shimu about the Manual. "Once we've learned its powerful kung fu, we can bring the book back to Shifu. By then, we'll be afraid of no-one – not Shifu, nor Tempest Qu."

I begged him to banish the thought. I threatened to tell Shifu. But my storm was fearless. He put his words into action that very night.

IN THOSE days, Shifu was always preoccupied. His fingers were never still, always counting, but it did not look like he was working out a rhyme or fitting lyrics to a tune. He did not teach us kung fu and hardly spoke to anyone. His hair was turning greyer by the day and the sight broke my heart.

When I mentioned this to Hurricane, he was certain that Shifu was thinking about the kung fu in the Nine Yin Manual.

That night, Hurricane came across Shifu heading to the Sword Trial Pavilion with one volume of the Manual in his hand. He told me Shifu's eyes were fixed at the sky and nonsensical mutterings were coming out of his mouth. He greeted Shifu loudly, but he just walked on, oblivious.

Hurricane saw his chance and sneaked into Shifu's study. There, on the desk, was the other volume of the Manual.

Yet Hurricane was not content. He could not stop thinking about the one in Shifu's hand. He convinced himself he needed it too, but I would not let him take anything else.

Stealing one volume from Shifu was bad enough. If we took both, we would be worse than animals. Shifu had always been kind to us. It would be a betrayal too far.

"Of course he's kind to you, but to me?"

"Don't do it! I will scream and shout!"

"SHIFU!" CYCLONE Mei croaked. "Someone has come to take the Nine Yin Manual! Shifu!"

"Huh?" Guo Jing was confused.

"Mind your own business."

She caught the scent of plum blossoms in the night air. The Peach Blossom Island of her memory smelt just as sweet.

WE FLED Peach Blossom Island that night. We found a boat to take us to Mount Salvation and hid in a cave by the shoreline. We had with us the second volume of the Manual. Hurricane spent the next days poring over the text written in Shimu's hand, his brow locked in a frown.

"Maybe we should make a copy and return this to Shifu. But how?" He was talking more to himself than to me.

"Let's go back!"

"Do you think we can set foot on that island again and come out alive?"

We stayed on Mount Salvation for one month, but it was too close to Peach Blossom Island, so we sailed to the mainland. We spent the next few months flitting between towns like Qingyuan, Shangyu, Baiguan, Yuyao, then we moved inland to Lin'an, Jiaxing, Huzhou, Pingjiang, lying low in the myriad waterways that criss-crossed these cities. We shut ourselves in our boat during the day to avoid being seen – in case Shifu or our martial brothers were seeking us – and the incessant river traffic kept us well concealed.

WE STUDIED the Manual together. It was indeed full of powerful martial skills. Our volume opened with the Nine Yin Skeleton Claw and the Heartbreaker Palm, how to master and overcome each move: These skills can be acquired through external training and do not require a foundation in inner strength. By these methods, my younger brother and sister were slain. The verse "Silently slaughter with the ease of cutting grass" aptly describes their effect.

This was perfect, and so our training began. We needed to practise on living human beings, so I suggested Jiang Village in Shangyu. We could start with the malicious Mistress Jiang, then reduce all the men and women in the village – old and young – to piles of skulls and bones.

But the place also reminded me of the day Shifu rescued me, the new lease of life he granted me. What did I do to requite him? This! The thought broke my heart. When I mentioned it to Hurricane, he became wild with jealousy and berated me for thinking about Shifu.

Before long, we reached an impasse. The remaining martial techniques required a basis of internal strength. The neigong principles were explained in the first volume – the one we did not have. To complicate matters, the skills were all rooted in the Taoist tradition, a completely different branch of kung fu from that of Shifu.

But, each time we became stuck, Hurricane would say, "He who aspires shall achieve great deeds."

He believed it with all his heart. With time, he developed his own interpretation and devised a way to learn the skills described within the Manual, which he also taught me. He focused on palm strikes and I worked on the White Python Whip.

He had a whip made especially for me, gilded with silver. He said that, as he had not given me a love token to mark our nuptials, he would make it up to me with this opulent weapon.

We might have been in hiding from Shifu and our martial brothers, but we had plenty of gold and silver. With our kung fu skills, we took whatever we wanted, whenever we felt the urge. Wealthy households, government treasuries – we plundered them with ease. No-one could stop us.

FEELING A breeze ruffling her hair, Cyclone Mei tilted her head back. "Are there stars tonight?"

"Many," Guo Jing replied.

"Can you see the Silver Stream?"

"Yes."

"Is it separating the Weaver Girl from the Cowherd?"

"It is."

"What about the Northern Dipper?"

"Huh?"

"What an idiot! Look to the north. Seven bright stars. Aligned in the shape of a ladle."

Guo Jing scanned the sky, following the description, until eventually he exclaimed, "I can see them!"

"What is the Gathering of Seven Stars?"

"I don't know."

"Didn't Ma Yu teach you?" Mei tightened her grip.

"The Elder only taught me how to breathe lying on my back."

"How?"

"My belly pushes out when I breathe in and then is sucked into my back when I breathe out."

We did the opposite, she said to herself. Perhaps this is the Taoist secret.

EACH TIME my burly rogue reached a plateau in his training, he would talk about stealing the first volume. I told him I would not mind going back to Peach Blossom Island, but, whatever we decided to do, we must first return this second volume to Shifu and Shimu.

"But we haven't mastered the rest of the kung fu yet! We can skip those marked 'Attainment Five Years', 'Attainment Seven Years' and 'Basics Grasped in Ten Years'. But we must first learn the martial techniques we can assimilate quickly before we go back to the island. The Nine Yin Skeleton Claw, Heartbreaker Palm and White Python Whip are said to be achievable in a short time without neigong. How's your White Python Whip?"

"It will be another year before I can use it in combat."

WE RUFFLED a lot of feathers learning this kung fu. It became difficult to stay in one place for long because those self-righteous dogs of the martial world would not leave us alone. They kept coming after us in groups and gangs, but that only pushed us to train harder, killing more in the process.

They called our kung fu "infernal" and gave us the name Twice Foul Dark Wind. It made us sound so horrible! We should have been called something graceful, like Peach Blossom Duet.

They claimed they had to stop us from murdering innocent people, but I knew they just wanted to lay their greedy paws on the Manual.

What we had learned from Shifu was more than enough to send these yelping dogs fleeing with their tails between their legs. But such pests just kept coming out of the woodwork, and they were growing stronger. We were finding it harder and harder to escape. We were not allowed a moment of peace for two whole years.

If I had known it would turn out like this, I would not have had anything to do with that dreadful Manual. I thought about it often, how I could have lived in peace on Peach Blossom Island. But Shifu knew about Hurricane and me. My shame would have chased us off the island eventually, and we were also worried about Tempest's return.

It was around this time that news of Shifu's fit of fury after we ran away with the Nine Yin Manual reached us. Zephyr and Galeforce had tried to calm him, but their words only angered him further and he broke their legs in a rage. Doldrum later suffered the same fate. Apparently, he had tried to reason with Shifu: "The two ingrates are Hurricane Chen and Cyclone Mei. They alone betrayed you, Shifu. We are loyal and devoted. There was no cause to turn your wrath on Brother Qu, Brother Lu and Brother Wu."

"You shall be next! I spent years teaching the six of you, and all I got in return was betrayal and ingratitude. I might as well not have lived!" A swing of the wooden staff and Brother Feng's legs were shattered too.

After our three little brothers were cast off the island, the jianghu was sizzling with cruel gossip about Shifu. They said Old Heretic Huang had truly lived up to his pernicious reputation. Such words were daggers to my heart. How I wanted to kneel before Shifu and Shimu and confess my crimes. How I wished Shifu would absolve my sins by granting me the punishment of death.

I desired nothing more than to catch a glimpse of Shifu again.

So, when Hurricane told me he wanted to go back to Peach Blossom Island, I voiced no objection. His reasoning was that the curs of the wulin would lead Shifu onto our tracks before long and our fate would be sealed. But, if we had the first volume of the Manual, we could move to Mongolia, to Tangut, somewhere tens of thousands of li west of our troubles. Somewhere so far away that no-one could find us.

I succumbed to his logic. Sooner or later, this life would no longer be mine. The thought that Shifu might be the one to take it actually gave me some comfort.

ONE DARK night, we found ourselves back on Peach Blossom Island. As we approached the main hall, Shifu's voice reached us: "Brother Bottom, I never took your Manual. There is nothing to return!"

I had never heard Shifu stoop to personal insults!

We peered through a gap in the window. The man Shifu was shouting at wore a long beard and seemed some years older. He did not seem at all offended. In fact, he answered with a laugh. "I don't believe you, Old Heretic. Your actions live up to your name."

"I am called a heretic because I refuse to submit to Confucian teachings, because I don't blindly obey the Emperor or my elders. But I live by the four social bonds of propriety, justice, integrity and honour. I said I did not take your Manual, and that is the truth. Even if I did take it, with what I already know, I have no need to stoop to learning from someone else's martial dog farts."

"Well, I can smell something, that's for sure. Come, let's spar a little. Let me see if you took a naughty sniff or not." Chuckling, the man sprang from his seat and waited for Shifu to stand up before throwing a punch with his left hand. Shifu responded with a move from the Cascading Peach Blossom Palm.

As the blows rained down, the candles flickered. I looked over at Hurricane. He glanced back at me. We had never seen such advanced kung fu before.

The heavens were granting us the chance of a lifetime to take the Manual. This longbeard was holding Shifu back for us – we would have free access to his study! If we saw Shimu, we would not hurt or frighten her; I would kowtow to her three times to thank her, and then snatch the precious book.

I tugged Hurricane's sleeve, but he would not move an inch. He told me later that he had been convinced one of them would use techniques from the Nine Yin Manual. Seeing the moves in action would be so much more instructive than reading about them. He was too entranced to leave and I was too scared to go alone.

The bearded man's kung fu was like nothing we had seen. But Shifu would not attack, he just glided around as if he were on water, evading his opponent. They were now coming towards our window. The man swiped at Shifu with his left hand.

Shifu ducked.

The window flew open.

I swerved to the side, but he must have seen my hair flying.

"Cyclone!"

Pang! The man followed up with his right palm and struck Shifu on the shoulder.

Shifu's right knee buckled. As he stumbled back, he flicked a finger against his thumb twice. The air whistled and the longbeard's legs gave way. He rolled on the ground and could not stand up again.

"Shifu has no need of the Nine Yin Manual, Cyclone. I subdued him with the Divine Flick. What brings you here?"

I leapt up and fell on my knees in front of Shifu, tears streaming down my face. "Your disciple has done you and Shimu grievous wrong."

"She is no longer with us. Her mourning hall . . . over there."

I ran across the courtyard in the direction he pointed. There it was, her spirit tablet:

Here lies the spirit of my late wife, of the Feng clan.

My head spun. I could hear myself wailing. Shifu stood behind me. Then I noticed a small child of no more than two, perched on a chair. She smiled at me. She looked just like Shimu. Had she died in childbirth?

"Papa, cuddle."

A smile bloomed like a flower on the little girl's face. She stretched out her arms and threw herself at Shifu. He scooped her up protectively just before she toppled from the seat.

I felt Hurricane grabbing my hand and my body hurtling across the island. In no time, I sensed the spray of brine upon my face.

My heart was pounding. I was convinced that it would jump out of my mouth.

Then, Shifu's voice, borne to our boat by the wind: "Make your own way. Meddle no more with the Nine Yin Manual! Preserve yourselves. Stay alive."

Having witnessed Shifu's battle with the longbeard, we were dejected. Eventually, Hurricane spoke: "Shifu's kung fu is at least ten times more powerful than ours. That man is also far more accomplished than us."

"Do you regret what we did?" Then I added, under my breath, "If we had stayed with Shifu, we would have learned all that."

"I have no regrets. And neither have you."

After that, he worked even harder to figure out a way to train our internal strength. He kept saying that, though it was not the orthodox way, it would still get us results.

"Shifu said we mustn't practise the kung fu from the Manual," I reminded him.

"With his skills, obviously he has no need of it. But can we survive without it?"

So we trained and trained. We managed to master two-thirds of the Golden Bell and Iron Shirt techniques, which toughened our bodies against weapons and blows.

We were now unstoppable. Fear raged wherever Twice Foul Dark Wind blew.

WE WERE practising the Heartbreaker Palm in an abandoned temple when, suddenly, we were surrounded by kung fu masters in every direction. Zephyr Lu, our own martial brother, organised and led the attack. He blamed us for the loss of the use of his legs and he thought that, by capturing us and presenting us to Shifu, he would be allowed to return to Peach Blossom Island.

Ha! Twice Foul Dark Wind would not be caught so easily!

My loving bastard dispatched the Flying Divine Dragon, Ke Bixie the Talisman, that day. Or maybe it was I. I cannot remember. It does not matter. We slew half a dozen of Zephyr's martial friends and got away, but I was also badly hurt.

A few months later, even the Taoist monks of the Quanzhen Sect were after us. We had far too many enemies now, we could not beat them all. The only option that remained was to leave the Central Plains. We went far, far away into the west and settled on the Mongolian steppe.

We kept practising the Nine Yin Skeleton Claw and Heartbreaker Palm, and I continued to work on the White Python Whip. Hurricane constantly reminded me that these were legendary techniques we could master in a reasonably short time, it mattered not that we did not have a foundation in neigong inner strength.

Then, out of the blue, I was ambushed on a barren hill in Mongolia.

"My eyes!"

The pain. The itching. The horrible darkness.

I gathered my qi to contain the poison. I crawled away. But I lost my sight. And my burly rogue.

Retribution. We killed Ke Bixie. We killed blind bat Ke Zhen'e's brother. And he had brought his brethren all the way out to Mongolia to seek revenge. The Seven Freaks of the South.

CYCLONE MEI'S jaw clenched at the painful memory, her teeth cracked and her grip tensed.

Guo Jing was convinced that his wrist was about to snap. This is it, he said to himself. She's going to kill me, now, in the most brutal way. But I've still got the herbs Elder Wang needs to cleanse the poison from his injury last night!

"Could you please do one thing for me," Guo Jing began timidly, "after you have had your revenge?"

"You want my help?"

"Yes. I appeal to your kindness. Please take the herbs on my person to Elder Wang. His life depends on them. He is staying at the Peaceful Stay Inn, west of the city."

Cyclone Mei did not answer, but she did not shake her head either.

"You will do it? Thank you – you are so kind!"

"I am not kind and I don't want your thanks."

CYCLONE MEI could not remember all the hardships she had already lived through in her short life. She could not recall how many people she had killed. But she could not forget that night. It was carved into her being.

EVERYTHING WAS cloaked in darkness. The stars had lost their glow.

"Little sister, I can't look after you anymore. You must take care . . ."

These were his last words.

"What's the point of taking care without you?" I asked as he pressed the Manual into my hand. "I've lost my sight. I can never read again."

I put it inside my robe, close to my chest. It was of no use to me, but I would make sure it never fell into enemy hands. One day, I would return it to Shifu.

The heavens opened. A torrential downpour. The Freaks slashed and struck. I was hit on the back. A powerful blow. It rocked my bones.

The sky wept. The world had lost its light. Darkness became my cloak.

So I scooped up my storm and ran.

I hurtled through the rain.

My Hurricane was still warm! But, little by little, a chill took over. Like my heart, he turned to ice.

I had never felt so cold.

"Are you really gone? You were supposed to be unassailable. How did it happen? Who was it?"

Shivering, I found the dagger in his navel and pulled it out. I felt his blood gush from his wound. I know how much there must have been. I have killed many times.

"Who will call you 'dearest filthy dog' down there?" I asked out loud. "You won't be alone in the underworld. I won't allow it!"

I slipped the tip of the dagger under my tongue – my most vulnerable point – then I felt it. Words, carved into the hilt. The surname, Yang. The character meaning "vitality". Yang Kang. His murderer. Yang Kang.

How could I die before I had taken my revenge?

My sweet bastard will be avenged!

CAN YOU hear my sigh, burly rogue?

It's all over now.

Have you missed me as much as I've missed you? If you've found yourself some waif as wife down there, I promise you, I will haunt you for eternity . . .

I DUG a hole in the desert and buried him. Without my sight, I could not even find food to feed myself, let alone seek my revenge. Luckily, the Mongolians took pity on a poor blind woman, sharing with me their milk, meat and bread. For several years, their kindness was all that kept me from starvation.

One day, a column of men and horses passed by my cave, speaking in the Jurchen tongue. I asked them for food, and their leader took me in and brought me all the way to their capital, Zhongdu. I only realised later that I had been taken in by the Sixth Prince of the Jin Empire. He let me live in the palace and gave me a job. I became a sweeper in the inner garden, where I made an abandoned underground chamber my den. At night, I practised my martial arts in secret.

Another few years passed, the royal household still looked on me as a poor blind woman. But, one night, the naughty young Prince sneaked into my garden. He was fond of raiding birds' nests for eggs. He saw me practising with the whip and pestered me to teach him. I showed him three moves and he mastered them immediately. He was such a joy to teach, so before long I showed him the Nine Yin Skeleton Claw, and Heartbreaker Palm too. I made him swear to secrecy: he must never speak about it. Not to the Prince, not to the Consort. If he made one squeak, I would put five holes in his skull with my own hand.

The little Prince had already studied some kung fu, so he was not a complete novice.

"Shifu, my other teacher is a bad man. I don't like him. I like you!" The boy had a sweet tongue and he knew how to use it to get his way. "I'd never show him the kung fu you teach me. His skills are nothing compared to yours! The things he makes me learn are useless."

But, from what the little Prince could do, I could tell this man was a master. And yet, I was in no place to ask questions, since I had made him promise never to reveal me.

Time stands still for no-one. A few more years had gone by and the young Prince told me his father was going back to Mongolia. I told the boy to ask if I could travel with them to visit my husband's grave. Of course, the Prince agreed – he would never say no to his beloved son.

This was my chance to find the Seven Freaks of the South, to make them pay for what they did to me. Yet, fortune did not smile on me – the Seven Immortals of the Quanzhen Sect were in Mongolia too! One blind woman could not fight seven masters on her own.

Their internal kung fu was as formidable as their reputation. Scarlet Sun Ma Yu sent his voice across great distances with so little effort.

And yet, it was not a wasted trip. I tricked the Taoist into explaining a secret of their neigong training. And I worked hard when I got back . . .

But, without guidance, it was impossible to cultivate my internal energy. Two days ago, as I willed my qi around my body, my internal life force passed the Long Strong pressure point at the bottom of my spine and got trapped. Nothing I have tried since could make it circulate back, and I have lost all movement in the lower half of my body.

IF THIS boy had not stumbled in, I would have starved to death because I have never allowed the young Prince to visit me. My Hurricane led him here. To rescue me and to avenge him!

Cyclone Mei cackled wildly at the thought, causing her whole person to convulse and release a mighty burst of internal strength through the fingertips still clutching Guo Jing's windpipe.

Guo Jing forced his hands under her wrist and pushed back with every last drop of energy inside him. Having practised orthodox neigong for some years under Ma Yu's instruction, his internal strength was not inconsiderable.

Such impressive kung fu!

Cyclone Mei had to give the young man credit. Not many could have made her grip slip. She made three quick strikes and he managed to divert her talons each time with the force of his palm.

She drew her arm upwards, shrieked, and slapped it down onto the top of Guo Jing's head. The most lethal move of the Heartbreaker Palm repertoire.

Guo Jing's left hand was still trapped between Mei's claws, so he channelled all his power to his right arm and blocked. He knew it was hopeless, but he had to try. Pain shot down his arm at contact. Then, to his surprise, nothing happened. Had she changed her mind?

Cyclone Mei had remembered at the last moment that Guo Jing was taught by the Taoist Ma Yu, and pulled back.

I am unable to walk now because I have no-one to guide me in my neigong training. But he learned it from the source – he can help me. I must avenge my sweet bastard, I must not forget! Luckily, I have not killed him yet.

Annoyed with herself, she grabbed Guo Jing by the throat once more.

"You killed my husband and I'll kill you with this hand. But, if you behave, I'll grant you a quick death. If you play games, I'll make sure you suffer every conceivable pain this world has to offer. I'll start by chewing your fingers off, one by one – and I will do so slowly."

It was not an empty threat. She had not eaten in days.

Guo Jing shuddered at the sight of her gleaming white teeth, too frightened to answer.

"The Quanzhen Sect has a saying: 'Three Splendours Gather at the Crown, Five Forces to the Origin.' What does it mean?"

Guo Jing knew she was after his knowledge of inner strength. I'd rather die than help you improve your kung fu! I know you're planning to go after my shifus! he answered silently.

Cyclone Mei squeezed, sending shards of pain into his wrist.

Guo Jing closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, determined not to show his suffering. Then he said, "I'll never share my neigong knowledge with you!"

She loosened her grip a little and tried to make her voice sound soft. "I will take the herbs to Wang Chuyi . . . to save his life."

That reminded Guo Jing of the reason he came to the palace in the first place. That was more important than anything, right now! She won't be a bother to my shifus anymore if she can't walk.

"Swear you will help Elder Wang first."

"I vow to deliver the herbs to Wang Chuyi after you have shared the secrets of Quanzhen neigong. If I break my word, I shall be paralysed for eternity."

5

"COME OUT, YOU LITTLE RASCAL!"

Guo Jing recognised the voice: Browbeater Hou, the Three-Horned Dragon!

"She can't have got far; there's nowhere for her to go!" A second man.

They were only a few score paces to his left. But it sounded like they were moving away from him.

Lotus is still in the palace? Guo Jing turned to Cyclone Mei. "There's one more thing you must promise me. Or I won't tell you anything."

"What is it?" Mei snapped.

"My good friend is being pursued by the martial masters of this palace. You must give me your word that you will help her escape."

"How do I know where she is?" Mei tensed the hand still wrapped around Guo Jing's throat. "Explain the internal kung fu first!"

"It's down . . . to you . . ."

"I, Cyclone Mei, have never bent to anyone's will. Yet, today, I will let you have your way," she said, with gritted teeth. "Is she your sweetheart? You are devoted to her, aren't you? Let me be clear. I'm only agreeing to help the girl. I'm not saying I'll let you live."

"Lotus, come here! Lotus . . ."

They heard a rustle from a nearby rose shrub, and Lotus emerged. She had been listening in the undergrowth for some time and Guo Jing's words had sent a flood of hot tears down her cheeks. They had only been friends for a matter of days, yet he was thinking of her even when his life was in mortal danger.

Lotus had been dressed as a beggar boy when they met and she had been living the part for some time. She was furious with her father. For the first time in her life, he had reprimanded her.

She knew that, to her father, she was dearer than life itself. Her mother had died in childbirth. As she grew up, she was his only companion. He was an eccentric man. He did not live by assumed etiquette or the prevailing social rules of the time – indeed, he despised and rejected them. He always let her have her way and never said a stern word to her.

All she had done to incur her father's wrath was to go on a wander around the island, find the place he used as a prison and strike up a conversation with a captive therein.

He had been greatly amusing, this captive. He complained the wine her father served was flavourless, so she had the servants bring a flask of their best vintage, together with a few plates of delicacies. They whiled away hours, eating and drinking. The man was thrilled by the feast and she had fun talking to the irreverent uncle.

Why should this have caused such anger from her father? Feeling grievously wronged, she ran away and roamed from town to town, alone and abandoned. She even convinced herself that her father did not love her anymore; she might as well become the most miserable little beggar in the world.

It was in this guise that she met Guo Jing outside an inn, in the fortress town of Kalgan. At first, she abused Guo Jing's hospitality, ordering the most lavish and expensive dishes at her new acquaintance's expense, to vent her anger at her father. But, as they ate and talked, they each felt like they were in the company of an old friend.

When Guo Jing gave her, a mere beggar boy, his sable coat, ingots of gold and his precious Fergana horse at their parting, she recognised the sincerity of his kindness. Now, being called his "sweetheart", she felt a honeyed warmth grow inside her bosom.

"Lotus! She'll help you. Those men won't bother you anymore!"

"Let him go, Flora Mei!" Lotus cried.

"Who are you?" Cyclone Mei's voice trembled. She had not been called by her birth name for decades. No-one in the martial world knew it.

"Ghosts of peach blossom cascade as the sword flies,

Tides of the green sea billow as the jade flute sings."

Lotus recited these words before announcing, "My surname is Huang."

"You – you are . . ." Mei was stunned.

"Fillip Peak, Pure Tone Cave, Verdant Bamboo Grove, Sword Trial Pavilion. Do you remember these places on Peach Blossom Island, in the Eastern Sea?"

The very places Cyclone Mei had learned kung fu! That was a lifetime ago. Yet, how could she forget? She could see the verse inscribed on the pillars of the Sword Trial Pavilion in her mind's eye, even now. They referenced two of her shifu's proudest martial inventions.

"Who . . .? Who are you to . . . Master Huang?" she stammered at last.

"Good! You haven't forgotten my father. He remembers you too! He's here to see you."

Mei was certain her frightened soul had flown up beyond the highest heavens. She wanted to run away, but her legs would not respond.

Then, a little spark of joy lit up within her. At last, she could see Shifu again! She murmured, "Shifu . . . Shifu . . ."

"Let him go. Now!"

Suddenly, doubt and distrust gripped Cyclone Mei. This little girl is trying to trick me. Shifu has not left Peach Blossom Island for years. He did not even pursue us when we took the Nine Yin Manual. He cannot be here.

Seeing the change in Mei's countenance, Lotus tapped her left foot and jumped high over the blind woman's head.

"Do you remember learning this from my father?"

Cyclone Mei could hear a swooshing in the air. Two rotations mid-air, followed by a downward strike. A move from Cascading Peach Blossom Palm.

Blossoms Fly over River Town.

Mei now knew exactly who this girl was. She removed a hand from Guo Jing to ward off the strike. Lotus took her chance and tugged him free as she landed.

"Little sister, where is Shifu?"

Lotus Huang was the young child Cyclone Mei had seen on Peach Blossom Island all those years ago – her shifu Apothecary Huang's only daughter.

Though Lotus never knew any of her father's disciples, as they were already banished by the time she was born, she had heard her father speak of them. From Mei's mutterings, she had surmised the woman's identity.

Faced with such a lethal adversary, Lotus felt a small pang of regret at not being more focused on the martial arts in her education. She remembered pestering her father to teach her all his other skills, like yin yang, the Five Elements and other ways of divination derived from the I'Ching. Apothecary Huang might have been one of the greatest masters of the age, but Lotus had only just scratched the surface of Peach Blossom Island's vast store of martial knowledge. If only her martial skills were more sophisticated, then she would be able to free Guo Jing with her kung fu. She would not have to pin all her hopes on her wit. Luckily, she had managed to frighten Cyclone Mei with the lie that her father was here too.

By now, Cyclone Mei had flopped to the ground, all her martial training vanished. Her face had turned an earthen hue and she spoke fearfully, as if an enraged Apothecary Huang was standing before her. "Your disciple deserves ten thousand deaths for her crimes. I beseech Shifu to take pity on my blind eyes and crippled body, and show mercy with your punishment. I have wronged you grievously, Master. I am a nothing but a beast, even worse than a pig or a dog!" Her voice was trembling.

Then she thought of the kindness Shifu had shown her, and the desire to be in his presence overcame her fright. Now, she sounded more certain. "No, Shifu must not be merciful. I deserve the most severe punishment you can devise."

Guo Jing was bewildered. Twice he had seen this fearless demon surrounded and outnumbered by martial masters in the treacherous terrain of Mongolia. And now all it took was the mention of Lotus's father to reduce her to a whimpering heap!

Chuckling silently at her effect on Cyclone Mei, Lotus took Guo Jing's hand and pointed towards the palace wall.

Just as they were about to make their escape, they heard a wolf whistle followed by a snigger.

"Little girl! I won't fall for your tricks again!"

Not him again! Lotus recognised Gallant Ouyang's voice. We can't outrun him. His kung fu is too strong. Maybe she could hold him back?

"Sister Mei, my father never says no to me. If you help me, I'll speak for you. He'll definitely forgive you."

"How can I help you?"

"That man is here to make trouble with me. I'll pretend to lose, then you step in and send him packing. My father will be very pleased when he sees you helping me." Lotus pulled Guo Jing behind Cyclone Mei as she spoke.