Smiling Proud Wanderer

Chapter Nineteen: The Wager (draft)

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Chapter Nineteen: The Wager (draft)

By now both of them were very exhausted, and each took a spot to sit in repose with their eyes closed, leaning against a big rock. Soon Linghu Chong began to doze off. In the sleep, he suddenly saw Ying-Ying placing three roasted frogs into his hands and asking him, “Have you forgotten me?”

“I have not! I have not! Where…where have you been?” Linghu Chong replied loudly. But all of a sudden, Ying-Ying’s image vanished before his eyes. “Don’t go! I have a lot to tell you,” he shouted hastily. But all he could see now were countless of knives, swords, and various weapons striking toward him one after another. He cried out loudly and then woke up.

“Have you dreamed of your sweetheart and had a lot to tell her?” Xiang Wentian said with a big grin.

Linghu Chong’s face went red. He wasn’t sure what else he had said in his dream that Xiang Wentian might also overheard.

“Brother, if you want to see your lover, you’ll have to recuperate your injury and cure yourself before going looking for her,” Xiang Wentian suggested.

“I…I don’t have a lover. Besides, my injury is incurable,” Linghu Chong replied, his face looking gloomy.

“I owe you a life. Although you are my sworn brother, it still doesn’t feel right, and I simply must repay you with a life. I’ll take you to a place. There, you will be cured,” Xiang Wentian exclaimed.

Linghu Chong had long disregarded his own life, but that was really because he didn’t have a choice after all and had to treat it with indifference. Now when he heard Xiang Wentian saying that his injury was actually curable, a mixed feeling of hope and bliss began swelling in his chest. If these words had come out of someone else’s mouth, he would not have let his hope go up. But Xiang Wentian was a man with extraordinary abilities, and his Kung Fu skills were so amazing that other than Grand Uncle-Master Feng, Linghu Chong had not seen anyone possessing such exceptional skills. Even a casual remark from him could have weighed more than a thousand pounds.

“I…I…,” Linghu Chong murmured but found himself lost in word from the sudden surge of spirit.

By now, the crescent shaped moon had climbed up the opening of the valley and shone over it silently, casting rays of cold light into the bottom of the valley. Although the valley bottom still looked dark and gloomy, in Linghu Chong’s eyes, everything seemed to have brightened up all of a sudden as though it was sunshine everywhere.

“We’ll go see a man. But this man has a very eccentric temperament, so it’s better that we don’t let him know beforehand. Brother, if you trust me, just let me arrange everything,” Xiang Wentian explained.

“What’s there to not trust? Brother Xiang, your trying to cure my injury is just like that old saying, ‘Working on curing a dead horse as though the horse was still alive.’ It was a hopeless thing to start with anyway. If it can be cured, then praise the lord! If it can’t be cured, then it is just the way it should have been.”

Xiang Wentian licked his lips at these words. “I wonder where we dropped that horse leg. G.o.d dammit! We killed so many b.a.s.t.a.r.ds, and there’s not even a single one down here.”

From the expression on Xiang Wentian’s face, Linghu Chong could tell that he must be thinking about finding some corpses for food. Gasping with astonishment, he dared not say another word and closed his eyes to sleep.

The next morning, Xiang Wentian said, “Brother, other than moss and gra.s.s, there’s nothing here. If we stay here and drag on like this, we’ve got to find some dead corpses for food. But the ones that fell down the valley yesterday were all old and stringy. I think your won’t have too good of an appet.i.te eating those.”

“I won’t have any appet.i.te at all,” Linghu Chong replied hurriedly.

Xiang Wentian grinned. “Then we’ll have to find a way out of here. Let me change your looks a little bit.”

He scooped some slime from the ground and smeared it onto Linghu Chong’s face. Then he put his hands on his own chins and rubbed. As soon as his inner strength radiated out from his palms, his long beards began falling off completely. Next, he placed his hands on his own head and rubbed, and soon all the gray hair on his head also fell off entirely, turning his head into a shinny, bald head.

Within moments, he had changed his appearance completely. Linghu Chong found it amusing yet amazing. Xiang Wentian scooped some more slime and then made his nose bigger, his chins chubbier. Now even if someone looked at Xiang Wentian carefully face to face, he would still have a difficult time recognizing him.

Xiang Wentian leading the way, they began looking for a way out of the valley. Xiang Wentian put his hands together and hid them in the sleeves, which also covered up the iron chain tied around his wrists. As long as he didn’t draw his hands out, n.o.body would have been able to recognize that this bald fatty was actually the hale, hearty, and degage Xiang Wentian.

The two of them explored the valley from one side to the other, and by noon, they caught sight of a small, wild peach tree in a small col. Even though the peaches were far from ripe and tasted sour and astringent, they couldn’t care less and each had a stomach full. After resting for about two hours, they resumed their walk. By the time of dusk, Xiang Wentian finally found the right place to get out of the valley, only that they had to climb over a precipice a few hundred feet high. Xiang Wentian carried Linghu Chong on his back and then climbed upward.

After they climbed up the cliff, a small path appeared in front of their eyes, winding through the long gra.s.ses covering the wild country land. Although the scenery was bleak, at least they had gotten out of the tight spot where even traces of wild birds or animals were lacking, and both heaved a long sigh of relieve.

The next morning, they traveled east. When they finally arrived at a good-sized town, Xiang Wentian took out a piece of Golden Leaf[1] from his chest pocket and asked Linghu Chong to exchange that into silver at a local money market. When that was all taken care of, they put up at an inn. Xiang Wentian ordered a lavish feast and also asked the servant to bring out a big jar of wine. The two of them both drank to heart’s content until over half jar of the wine had gone. Then without paying any attention to the food on the table, one simply fell asleep at the table while the other one fell into a fuddle and pa.s.sed out in bed. Not until the next morning when the warm sunshine had covered the full window did they wake up one after another. They exchanged a few grins as they recollected the fierce fight inside the pavilion and on the stone beam, almost feeling as though those events had only happened in their last incarnation.

“Brother, you wait here. I’ll be right back,” Xiang Wentian said.

But Xiang Wentian did not return until over two hours later. Linghu Chong was just starting to worry, fearing that he might have encountered enemies, when Xiang Wentian reappeared with many packages in various sizes in his hands and under his arms. The iron chain that had shackled around his waists also disappeared. He must have asked a blacksmith to chisel it off. Xiang Wentian opened the packages. It turned out each and every one of them contained luxurious garments and apparels.

“We’ll disguise into rich merchants. The more extravagant, the better,” Xiang Wentian explained.

The two of them changed into the brand new clothes from inside out completely. When they walked outside, the inn servant lead two tall horses in bright saddles and bridles to them which apparently Xiang Wentian had also just purchased. They traveled slowly further east on horsebacks. After two days into the journey, Linghu Chong had already felt worn out, so Xiang Wentian hired a horse-drawn wagon for him to ride in. After arriving by the Grand Ca.n.a.l,[2] they simply gave up the idea of traveling by horse and hired a boat, traveling south by water, instead.

Along the journey, Xiang Wentian kept the spending spree, as though he had infinite number of Golden Leaves with him. After they crossed the Yangtze River, more and more markets and shops bustled along both banks of the ca.n.a.l. The apparels Xiang Wentian purchased also turned more and more extravagant. During the long days spent on the boat, Xiang Wentian told many anecdotes and tales of the Martial World, most of which were stories Linghu Chong had never heard of before and brought great gusto out of him. But if there was anything relating the Dark-Wood Cliff or concerning matters of the Demon’s Cult, Xiang Wentian would not mention any word of it, and Linghu Chong would not ask any question, either.

This day, they arrived outside the city of Hangzhou. With extra attention, Xiang Wentian worked on the disguises of Linghu Chong and himself one more time before getting off the boat, then after acquiring two fine horses, they rode into the city of Hangzhou.

The city of Hangzhou, which used to have the name of Lin-An, was the capital city during the Southern-Song Dynasty, and had always been a great place for residence. As soon as they entered the city, they were greeted by boisterous pedestrians crowding the streets shoulder to shoulder while faint music and songs from alleys and courtyards echoing faintly in the background. Linghu Chong followed Xiang Wentian until they had arrived at the bank of the West Lake, and what greeted his eyes were a beautiful slate of blue water reflecting the blue sky like a huge mirror and the many weeping willows stroking the lake surface with their long soft branches. The magnificent beauty of the scenery could have easily made one wonder if he had just stepped in a fairyland.

“I’ve heard many people say: Suzhou and Hangzhou are Heavens on earth. I’ve never been to Suzhou so have no idea about it. Today, after seeing the West Lake with my own eyes, I have to agree that using Heaven on earth to describe its beauty is certainly no exaggeration,” Linghu Chong exclaimed.

Xiang Wentian showed a smile as his reply and then led Linghu Chong to a remote corner, which, with a small hill on one side and a long causeway separating it from the outer lake on the other, seemed even more secluded and peaceful. The two of them dismounted their horses and then after tying the reins to the willow trees by the bank, they ascended the flight of stone steps leading up the small hill. It seemed as though Xiang Wentian had returned to a formerly visited place and was very familiar with the pathways. After several turns, suddenly, there were plum trees everywhere. Aged boughs slanted to the side with dense branches and leaves on the top, making one wonder what a splendid view it would be in the early spring when they were all covered in the countless of beautiful, snow-white plum blossoms.

They walked through the large stretch of plum forest and then followed the main stone slab path. Soon a large manor with a red gate and white walls came into their view. Once they came closer, Linghu Chong could see two large characters, “Plum Manor,” written outside of the gate; and by the side, the words “signed by Yu Yunwen” were inscribed in smaller fonts. Even though Linghu Chong did not have much education and didn’t know that Yu Yunwen was the famous Southern-Song general that had defeated Jin’s invading army, he could still sense the vigorous, heroic spirit behind the elegant and graceful handwriting.

Xiang Wentian stepped forward and grabbed onto the shiny copper ring hanging from the gate. “Leave everything to me,” he turned his head over his shoulder and whispered.

Linghu Chong nodded, thinking to himself, “This Plum Manor obviously is the residence of a very rich family in the city of Hangzhou. Could this have been the home of an exceptional doctor?” Then he heard Xiang Wentian knocking on the gate using the copper ring. He knocked four times at first then paused for a moment before knocking twice again. Then after another short pause, he knocked five times, then another pause before three more knocks. Letting go of the copper ring, Xiang Wentian took a step back and waited.

After a while, the gate opened slowly, and two old men in servant’s clothes walked out abreast. Linghu Chong felt a slight shock at the sight of the two old men. Their eyes shining with sharp stares and their steps steady and firm, apparently both of them had excellent Kung Fu. Why would they allow themselves to be employed to such lowly posts as servants? Linghu Chong couldn’t help but ask himself inwardly.

“May I ask what business has brought you to our humble manor?” the man on the left asked with a slight bow.

“Members of the Songshan School and the Huashan School would like to request an audience with the Four Playfellows of Jiangnan,[3] the four respectful masters,” Xiang Wentian said.

“The Masters of the manor do not wish to receive any guests,” the man replied and made for closing the gate, but Xiang Wentian took something out of his chest pocket and then opened it up.

Linghu Chong felt another shock. Inside Xiang Wentian’s hand was a brocade flag in five colors stubbed with shining pearls and precious gemstones, and in the bight sunlight they twinkled magnificently. Linghu Chong knew that this flag was the Five Mountains Sword Alliance Command Flag of the Songshan School’s Chief Zuo, and wherever the flag showed up, it was as if Chief Zuo had also come, himself, and all members of the Five Mountains Sword Alliance would hold the carrier of the Command Flag to the highest esteem and follow his command strictly.

Linghu Chong faintly felt that this was inappropriate. He was almost sure that Xiang Wentian must have not obtained the flag through proper means. Maybe he had killed some important members of the Songshan School and then had robbed the flag of him, and maybe the flag was the very reason why orthodox school members chased after him. Now he claimed to be a member of the Songshan School, what kind of scheme was he planning to pull? But since Linghu Chong had agreed to let him arrange everything, he had no choice but to maintain his silence and observe by the side.

At the sight of the Command Flag, the two servants’ countenance changed slightly. “The Command Flag of Songshan School’s Chief Zuo?” they muttered together.

“Yes, it is,” Xiang Wentian confirmed.

“The Four Playfellows of Jiangnan and the Five Mountains Sword Alliance never had the chance to make the acquaintance. Even if Songshan School’s Chief Zuo had come, himself, our Masters wouldn’t necessarily…necessarily…well!” the servant on the right replied. He didn’t finish his sentence, but everyone knew what he meant: “Even if Chief Zuo had come, himself, our Masters wouldn’t necessarily grant an audience just the same.”

Chief Zuo of the Songshan School was, after all, a man of high post and high prestige, and the man did not want to say anything contemptuous. But he apparently considered the status of the “Four Playfellows of the Jiangnan” to be much higher compared to that of the Chief Zuo.

“Who are these ‘Four Playfellows of Jiangnan’? Suppose they really have such prestigious status in the Martial World, why have I never heard Master or Master-Wife mention their names? And when I wondered about the Martial World, I’ve heard people talking about many exceptional senior masters, how come I’ve never heard the name ‘Four Playfellows of Jiangnan’ mentioned before?” Linghu Chong couldn’t help but ponder.

“This Command Flag of My Nephew-Apprentice Zuo was only good for bluffing. The four senior masters of Jiangnan are all prestigious masters. Of course they would think nothing of this small flag….” Xiang Wentian showed a slight grin and put the Command Flag back into his chest pocket.

Linghu Chong thought to himself, “‘Nephew-Apprentice Zuo’? Are you actually pretending to be Chief Zuo’s Uncle-Master? This is really getting out of hands.”

“I’ve never had the privilege of paying a formal visit to the four respectful masters of Jiangnan, I just thought that this Command Flag might be used as a token of verification,” Xiang Wentian continued.

“Oh,” the two servants acknowledged. Hearing how Xiang Wentian had really elevated the position of the Four Playfellows of Jiangnan in his speech, both eased up in the face.

“Are you Chief Zuo’s Uncle-Master?” one man asked.

“Yes, I am!” Xiang Wentian let out another grin. “I am only a n.o.body in the Martial World; naturally you would never have heard about me. But I’ve long heard abut the great feats you have accomplished. Brother Ding, that year at the foot of Mount Qilian, didn’t you single-handedly wipe out the entire band of four tyrants and subdued two prestigious Kung Fu masters with a single swing of your sword? And Brother Shi, didn’t your Eight-Diagram Golden Saber drink the blood of the Green-Dragon Clan’s all thirteen ringleaders on the Han River in Hubei Province just so that you could save the life of an orphan? Such feats are definitely hard to forget.”

The two men in servant’s clothes were named Ding Jian and Shi Lingwei respectively. Before retiring to the Plum Manor, they had been two ruthless figures in the Martial World, chivalrous sometimes and wicked some other times. They had one thing in common: seldom had they revealed their names in the many battles they had fought. Consequently, despite their extraordinary martial art skills few had heard of their names. The two incidents Xiang Wentian just brought up were none other than what they had considered the true masterpiece in their lives. In both cases, their opponents had been elite Kung Fu masters and they had to fight many enemies alone, nevertheless each of them claimed a neat victory. Besides, they had been the chivalrous heroes upholding justice while their opponents were the villains in both incidents, which had been very rare occurrences throughout their lives. Generally when someone performs a good deed, even though he wouldn’t go out of his way to publicize it, he would still feel utterly pleased if others learn about it accidentally. Both Ding and Shi’s faces lit up at Xiang Wentian’s words.

“Such trivial matters really do not worth mentioning. Mister, your knowledge of the Martial World is very impressive,” Ding Jian spoke with a faint smile.

“The Martial World certainly does not lack people who fish for fame and compliment, but lofty gentlemen with genuine abilities and learning that would rather remain anonymous after doing great deeds are very hard to come by,” Xiang Wentian continued. “I’ve always admired the great fame of ‘Straight Line Lightning Sword’ Brother Ding and ‘Wulu G.o.d’ Brother Shi. When Nephew-Apprentice Zuo mentioned about consulting the Four Playfellows of Jiangnan in regard to certain matters, I agreed to make the trip to Hangzhou. I figured that even if I might not have the luck to meet the Four Playfellows of Jiangnan, as long as I get to meet the ‘Straight Line Lightning Sword’ and the ‘Wulu G.o.d,’ it would have been a worthy trip. Nephew-Apprentice Zuo said that if he had come, himself, he was afraid that the four senior masters might not want to receive him, having an aversion to the undeserved reputation he had attained in recent years. But in my case, since I usually stayed in and kept myself away from Martial World matters, maybe I won’t look too repugnant in their eyes. Ha-ha! Ha-ha!”

Very pleased to hear Xiang Wentian flattering both the Four Playfellows of Jiangnan and the two of them, Ding and Shi also accompanied him with a few laughs. Although the bald fatty looked repulsive in appearance, his speech and demeanor showed great manner and elegance, which convinced Ding and Shi that he was not just any ordinary visitor. And since he was Zuo Lengchan’s Uncle-Master, his Kung Fu skills had to be extraordinary. Ding and Shi felt their respect growing.

By then, Shi Lingwei had decided to report them to the masters of the manor. Turning toward Linghu Chong, he asked, “Is this mister a member of the Huashan School?”

“This is Brother Feng. He is the Uncle-Master of the current Huashan School Headmaster, Yue Buqun,” Xiang Wentian replied swiftly before Linghu Chong had any chance to open his mouth.

From the much nonsense Xiang Wentian had made up, Linghu Chong had guessed that Xiang would vamp up a fake name and ident.i.ty for him, but he had no idea that Xiang would make him the Uncle-Master of his own Master. Even though Linghu Chong was a man that did not care a rush, pretending to be a senior of his respectful Master made him very uneasy. He couldn’t help but shudder. Luckily his face was covered under a thick layer of yellow powder, which effectively concealed his startled face.

Ding Jian and Shi Lingwei exchanged a suspicious stare, both thinking, “Although we can’t tell this man’s true age, he is most likely under forty. How could he be Yue Buqun’s Uncle-Master?”

Xiang Wentian had made Linghu Chong look much older with the help of the disguise. However, Linghu Chong still looked far from an aged man, and any excessive make up would have given him away completely.

“This Brother Feng here is actually younger than Yue Buqun, but he is the only disciple of apprentice brother Feng Qingyang and the only heir of apprentice brother Feng’s unique sword arts. His skills in sword arts are so exceptional that few in the Huashan Sword School could be his match,” Xiang Wentian explained.

Once again, Linghu Chong found himself astounded. “How would Brother Xiang know that I am the disciple of Grand Uncle-Master Feng?” he pondered and found the answer only a moment later, “With his exceptional sword art skills, Grand Uncle-Master Feng must have had a prestigious fame in the Martial World many years ago. Brother Xiang is a very knowledgeable man. Once he saw the sword arts I used, naturally he was able to deduce the origin of the sword arts. If Great Master Fang-Sheng can recognize it, so can Brother Xiang.”

Ding Jian uttered a cry of surprise. He was an expert in swordsmanship, and upon learning that Linghu Chong was an excellent sword master, he itched for a contest. But the man standing in front of him had such a yellowish, swollen face and a completely wretched look, he had a hard time linking the man to an outstanding master in sword arts.

“May I have the honor to hear your names?” he asked.

“My surname is Tong, and my full name is Tong Huajin. This Brother Feng’s first name is Er-Zhong,” Xiang Wentian answered.

“We’ve been looking forward to meeting you for a long time.” Both Ding and Shi cupped their hands in greetings.

Xiang Wentian couldn’t help but chuckle inwardly. The name he made up, “Tong Huajin,” meant copper turning into gold, which, of course, clearly stated that it was fake. And the name “Er-Zhong” simply came from separating the two radicals in the character “Chong.” There was no one in the Martial World with any of those two names, yet the two of them still looked forward to meeting them. Why would they be looking forward to it, much less looking forward to it for a long time already?

“Please come in and have some tea while I report to my Masters. But whether our Masters will see you or not, I won’t promise anything,” Ding Jian said.

“Even though you humbly call yourselves servants of the Manor, you are more like intimate brothers to the Four Playfellows of Jiangnan. I am sure the four senior masters will not go against your suggestions,” Xiang Wentian said with a grin.

Ding Jian returned with a grin, shifting to the side to make way, and Xiang Wentian stepped into the manor, followed closely by Linghu Chong. They walked through a big courtyard following the path, alongside which stood two aged plum trees, one on each side, their limbs extending vigorously in all directions. After entering the reception hall, Shi Lingwei invited the guests to be seated and stood by the side in accompany while Ding Jian went inside to report to the Masters. Seeing that Shi Lingwei stood by the side, Xiang Wentian felt rather irreverent to remain sitting, himself. But Shi was a servant of the Plum Manor, and it would have been inappropriate for him to invite Shi to sit down. And then, he had an idea.

“Brother Feng,” Xiang Wentian said to Linghu Chong, “Look at that painting there. Although it’s made up of only a few simply strokes, it certainly depicts great momentum.” At these words, he stood up and walked in front of the central scroll hung in the middle of the hall.

Having traveled alongside Xiang Wentian for many days, Linghu Chong knew very well that Xiang was not adept at painting and calligraphy despite his resourceful wits. Now when he suddenly began praising the painting, there had to be something more to it. At that thought, he acknowledged with a snort and also walked in front of the painting. The painting contained the drawing of a celestial man’s back. It almost felt as though the ink on the painting was still dripping wet, clearly showing the powerful vigor of each of the strokes. Even though Linghu Chong was no expert in the art of painting, he could still tell that this had to be a true masterpiece. The autograph on the painting read, “Mr. Paint Splashing Paints In a Big Fuddle.” These words were written in a very stern style, as though each brushstroke came from a prod or swing of a long sword.

“Brother Tong, I am very attracted to this word ‘Fuddle’ on the painting. It almost felt as though the painting and the writing contained some kind of very brilliant sword arts,” after staring at the painting for some time, Linghu Chong commented. The brushstrokes in the writing and the gesture of the celestial man seemed to have reminded him of the sword arts carved on the rock wall in the back cave atop the Cliff of Contemplation.

Before Xiang Wentian had a chance to reply, Shi Lingwei had already spoken out, “Mr. Feng is truly an expert in sword arts. Our Fourth Master said: He painted this painting after he became completely inebriated one day and unconsciously included the spirit of sword arts in the artwork. This is the best artwork he had ever created. Once he became sober, he could never paint anything like this again. Mr. Feng can actually make out the spirit of sword arts in the painting. Fourth Master will definitely think of you as a bosom friend. Please allow me to excuse myself so I can report this to him.” Beaming with joy, he went inside.

“Brother Feng, turned out you know the art of painting,” Xiang Wentian cleared his throat and said.

“I don’t know anything about painting. I was just making wild guesses, and happen to hit the target by accident. If this Mr. Paint wants to discuss the art of painting with me, I’ll end up making a fool out of myself,” Linghu Chong replied.

Suddenly a loud voice rose from outside the door, “Did he really, did he really recognize the spirit of sword arts in my painting? He must be a very insightful man. He must be!” Amid the clamor, a man entered the room, holding a wine cup in his left hand, his face tipsy and his long beard almost reaching all the way to his bosom.

Shi Lingwei followed right behind the man. In a hurry, he introduced, “These two guests are Mister Tong from the Songshan School and Mister Feng from the Huashan School. This is the Fourth Master of the Plum Manor, Mr. Paint. Fourth Master, as soon as this Mister Feng saw your Splash-Ink painting, he said that the painting contained brilliant sword arts.”

The Fourth Master, Mr. Paint, glanced at Linghu Chong up and down from the corner of his tipsy eyes. “You know painting? You know sword arts?” he suddenly asked. The two questions sounded very insolent and impolite.

Linghu Chong noticed that the wine cup in his hand was a jade green Emerald Cup; he could also tell from the smell that the wine inside the cup was Pear-Blossom Wine. Suddenly, Zu Qianqiu’s speech on the boat when they traveled in the Yellow River came to his mind.

“Bai Juyi wrote in his poem Spring View of Hangzhou, ‘The red sleeves of the silk weaving girls reflected the persimmon leaves, and the emerald green flag of the wine shop sets off the Pear-Blossom Wine.’ To drink the Pear-Blossom Wine, Emerald Cup would be the natural choice. Fourth Master is truly an expert in the art of wine-drinking.”

Linghu Chong did not have much education and knew little about poetry and literature. But being a very intelligent man, he was gifted with an extraordinarily retentive memory and could recite other people’s words after hearing them over once. So easily, he copied Zu Qianqiu’s exact words over.

Mr. Paint’s eyes became wide open at these words. Suddenly he held Linghu Chong into his arms.

“Good heavens!” he cried out loud, “A bosom friend has arrived. Come! Follow me! Let’s go drink at least three hundred cups. Brother Feng, I am addicted to the art of wine, the art of painting, and the art of sword. People call me Lord of the Three Arts. But among the three arts, the art of wine is at the top of the list. Art of painting is the second and art of sword is the last.”

These words sounded like music in Linghu Chong’s ears. “I know nothing about the art of painting,” he thought to himself, “I’ve come to seek help in healing my injuries. It’s the last thing I want to do to get into a sword fight with them. But drinking, that’s just down my alley. What more could I have asked for?”

Without hesitation, he followed Mr. Paint inside followed by Xiang Wentian and Shi Lingwei. Down a winding corridor, they came to a room to the west, and as soon as the portiere was lifted, a strong fragrance of wine a.s.sailed their nostrils.

Linghu Chong had been fond of drinking since childhood. Only because his Master and Master-Wife hadn’t given him much pocket money, he had not the luxury to distinguish the good from the bad and simply drank whatever he could get. Not until he listened to Elder Bamboo-Green discussing the art of drinking in detail in the city of Luoyang, and was shown the many kinds of great wines, was he able to appreciate quality wines and the art of drinking. Firstly, this was congenial for him; secondly, he had a good teacher to give him directions. So as soon the scent of wine hit his nostrils, he praised.

“Wow! I smell the scent of aged High Grade Fen-Wine. Hmm, the Hundred-Gra.s.s Wine probably is around seventy-five years old. And that Monkey Wine is even harder to come by.”

As soon as he recognized the aroma of the Monkey Wine, he instantly remembered Lu Dayou, his sixth apprentice brother, and sorrow swelled in his heart.

“Excellent! Excellent! Brother Feng, as soon as you stepped into my wine room, you have already recognized the best three brews in my collection. You are really an expert! Amazing! Amazing indeed!” Mr. Paint clapped his hands with a big smile blossoming on his face.

Linghu Chong glanced around the room. What met his eyes where wine jars, wine bottles, wine calabashes, and wine cups everywhere.

“I really doubt Senior Master’s collection stops at the three great brews I’ve just mentioned. The Shaoxing-Red Wine is definitely first-cla.s.s, and the Grape-Wine from the Western Region city Turfan,[4] which requires four cycles of distillation and ferments, is second to none in the entire world.”

“My Turfan four cycles of distillation and ferments Grape-Wine is still sealed off in the wooden barrel. How could you have sniffed it out?” Mr. Paint uttered, half shocked and half pleased.

“Come on! With such quality wine, even if you hide it in a cellar twenty feet below ground, the sweet scent would still make it all the way here,” Linghu Chong said with a grin.

“Right on! Let’s drink this four cycles distillation and ferments Grape-Wine, then!” Mr. Paint shouted.

Soon, he took out a big barrel from a corner of the room. The barrel had begun to turn black from its old age and was covered with wriggling Western Region scripts. The wooden stopper was sealed off by sealing wax, which carried the sign of a solemn looking stamp. Mr. Paint held the wooden stopper and gave it a gentle pull. All of a sudden, the room was filled with the scent of great wine. Shi Lingwei was a man who never touched alcohol, and at the strong smell from the wine, he immediately felt tipsy. Mr. Paint waved him off with a grin.

“Go out! Go out! You don’t want to get drunk, do you?”

Placing three wine cups in a row, he picked the barrel up and poured the wine toward the wine cups. The wine’s color was dark red and almost looked like blood. When the cups were full, the top of the liquid was actually slightly higher than the edge of the cup, yet not a drop spilled out.

“This man has extraordinary Kung Fu skills,” Linghu Chong couldn’t help but cheer inwardly. “Holding the over one-hundred pounds big barrel in his arms and pouring wine into the small wine cups, he was still able to fill the cups perfectly to their capacities. That is no easy task.”

“Cheers! Cheers!” Holding the wooden barrel under his right arm, he raised his wine cup with his left hand and stared at Linghu Chong’s face with unblinking eyes, waiting to see his reaction after he tasted the wine.

Linghu Chong raised his own cup and then drank half of its content down his throat, smacking his lips as he tasted the flavor, his eyes closed. But because of the thick layer of powder on his face, the only express on his face was indifference, as though he didn’t quite like the taste. Mr. Paint’s face, on the other hand, had anxiety written all over it, as if he was afraid that this expert in wine-appreciation would only rate his wine mediocre.

After a long while, Linghu Chong finally opened his eyes. “Very strange! Very strange indeed!” he muttered.

“What’s strange about it?” Mr. Paint asked.

“Well, this is so confusing. This is really beyond me,” Linghu Chong answered.

“You are saying…,” Mr. Paint said, his eyes flickering with joy.

“I’ve only had the fortune to taste this wine once before, and that was in the city of Luoyang. Even though the wine was utterly mellow and pure, one could still feel the slight sourness in its flavor. According to a grandmaster in the art of wine, that was because of the b.u.mping and jolting along the transportation route. With the four cycles distillation and ferments Turfan Grape-Wine, the more you move it, the more of the excellence will be impaired. There are many thousands of miles between Turfan and Hangzhou, but Senior Master’s wine doesn’t even have the slightest sourness in its flavor. Well….”

Mr. Paint broke into loud laughter, looking very pleased of himself.

“This is my utmost secret. I had to use three sword moves in exchange for the secret recipe from Moore Watson, the Western Region Swordsman. Do you want to hear it?”

“I am already perfectly satisfied for the chance to enjoy such wonderful wine. I certainly dare not to ask about Senior Master’s secret recipe.” Linghu Chong shook his head.

“Let’s drink! Let’s drink!” Mr. Paint filled the three wine cups once again. Linghu Chong’s no desire for the secret recipe actually made his heart itch more. He couldn’t help but mutter, “Actually the recipe is not worth a dime. It’s amazingly simply, you know.”

Linghu Chong knew that the less he desired to hear the secret, the more Mr. Paint would want to share it. So he shook his hands hurriedly.

“Senior Master, please, please don’t speak the secret out. I can imagine that the three sword moves you gave out must have been no small matter. If I take away your secret recipe, which you had to pay a great price in exchange, so easily, I’ll never feel right about it. It is well said that there’s no receiving a reward without making a merit….”

“Didn’t you drink with me? Didn’t you recognize the origin of the wine? That’s plenty of merit already. You must listen to the secret recipe,” Mr. Paint insisted.

“I feel great grat.i.tude that Senior Master is willing to grant me an audience and bestow on me your most valuable wine collection. How could I…?”

“But I want to tell you. You can listen.”

“This is Fourth Master’s goodwill. Brother Feng, you need not decline,” Xiang Wentian also chimed in.

“Exactly! Exactly!” Mr. Paint concurred. “Let me ask you. Can you tell how old the wine is?” he asked with all smiles.

Linghu Chong drank up his wine and tasted it carefully. After a long while he spoke again.

“There is another thing strange about this wine. It tastes like it’s one hundred and twenty years old, yet it also tastes as though it is only twelve or thirteen years old. There’s old flavor in the recent taste and there’s also new flavor in the old taste. Comparing to normal, over one hundred years old wine, it seems to have a unique essence.”

Xiang Wentian knitted his brows slightly as he thought to himself, “Now he has really made a fool of himself. There’s over one hundred years difference between one hundred and twenty years and twelve or thirteen years. How could they be mentioned in the same breath?”

He was afraid that Mr. Paint would be displeased to hear these words, but quite to the contrary, the old fellow Mr. Paint broke into loud laughter, his long beard fluttering back and forth.

“Good brother! You are as sharp as a razor. That’s exactly where the secret lies. Let me tell you. That Western Region Swordsman, Moore Watson, gave me ten barrels of one hundred and twenty years old Turfan Grape Wine that had gone through three cycles of distillation and ferments and had five fine horses carry them all the way to Hangzhou. And then I went through the fourth cycle of distillation and ferments and brewed one barrel of fine wine using the ten barrels Grape Wine. If we count the days, that was exactly twelve and a half years ago. That’s why the Grape Wine didn’t go sour after such a long journey and why there’s old flavor in the recent taste and new flavor in the old taste.”

“That’s why!” Xiang Wentian and Linghu Chong both put their hands together.

“Even if you were to use ten sword moves in exchange for the secret of making such wonderful wine, it would have been worth it. And you only had to use three moves. What a steal!” Linghu Chong added.

Mr. Paint was even more pleased. “Little brother, you really understand me well. At that time, both Big Brother and Third Brother grumbled about it and complained that by exchanging sword moves for wine brewing technique, I had let the secret of our Central Region unique skills into the Western Region. And even though Second Brother only smiled without saying anything, I bet he didn’t approve it in his mind, either. Only you, little brother, understand that I’ve made a kill in this deal. Lets have a toast for that!”

Seeing that Xiang Wentian obviously didn’t know anything about the art of drinking, he paid no more attention to him.

“Fourth Master, there’s actually another way to enjoy this wine. Too bad we won’t be able to at this moment,” Linghu Chong said after drinking up another cup of wine.

“How? Why can’t we?” Mr. Paint asked anxiously.

“Turfan is the hottest place in the world. I heard that when Great Master Xuan-Zang[5] journeyed to India to retrieve the true Buddhist Scriptures, he went by the Mountain of Blaze, which is exactly where Turfan is located,” Linghu Chong explained.

“Yes. That place is very hot, indeed. In the summertime, even after you immerse yourself in a bucket of cold water, you’d still feel the unbearable heat. And in the wintertime, it’ll freeze you to the bone. But just because of that, the grapes they produce there are out of the ordinary,” Mr. Paint remarked.

“When I tasted this wine in the city of Luoyang, it was still very cold. That grandmaster in the art of drinking brought out a big piece of ice and then set the wine cups on top of the ice. Once the wine was iced, it had a different kind of taste. It is already in the early summer now, that’s why I said we wouldn’t be able to taste it that way,” Linghu Chong said.

“When I was in the Western Region, unfortunately it was in the summertime also. Moore Watson also mentioned about the wonderful taste of Iced Grape Wine. Little brother, that’s easy. All you have to do is to stay in our Plum Manor for another half a year. Then when it is in the winter, we can taste the wine together,” Mr. Paint suggested. After a short pause, he went on, his eyebrows slightly knitted, “But we’ll have to wait for such a long time. What a torment!”

“It’s a pity that there’s no one here in Jiangnan who specializes in ‘Icy Palm’ or ‘Cold-Wind Claw’ the kind of Kung Fu that focuses on the negative principles, or else…,” Xiang Wentian joined in.

“I’ve got it! I’ve got it!” before Xiang Wentian even finished his sentence, Mr. Paint had shouted out cheerfully. Setting the wine barrel down to the floor, he walked out of the room excitedly.

Linghu Chong cast a glance at Xiang Wentian with a stomach full of questions, but Xiang Wentian only grinned back in silence.

Not long after, Mr. Paint had returned, dragging a very tall and very thin, old man in black robe behind him.

“Second Brother, you’ve got to do me a favor this time no matter what,” he pleaded.

Linghu Chong looked at the man. What he saw was a man with delicate features, only that his face looked unnaturally white as though the face of a corpse, which would send a chill down one’s spine at the sight of it. After Mr. Paint introduced him, Linghu Chong learned that the old man was the Second Master of the Plum Manor, Mr. Black-White. His hair looked extremely black while his skin looked extremely white. They were certainly in sharp contrast.

“What favor?” Mr. Black-White asked in a cold tone.

“To demonstrate your Turning-Water-Into-Ice Kung Fu to these two good friends of mine,” Mr. Paint said.

“That’s just an insignificant skill not even worth mentioning. It would only make the true experts laugh,” Mr. Black-White said coldly, rolling his black eyeb.a.l.l.s around the white of the eye as he spoke.

“Second Brother, to tell you the truth, this Brother Feng, here, said that if we ice the Turfan Grape Wine, it would have an interesting taste. But where the heck can I find ice in the middle of the summer?” Mr. Paint confessed.

“The wine is already very mellow and savory. There’s no need to ice it,” Mr. Black-White replied.

“Turfan is a place of sweltering heat…,” Linghu Chong explained.

“Totally! Very hot!” Mr. Paint added.

“’Although the grapes produced there are excellent, inevitably, they also carried some of the summer heat,” Linghu Chong went on.

“Totally! That’s of course!” Mr. Paint added again.

“The summer heat was then brewed into the wine. Though after one hundred years, the effect had reduced dramatically, the little bit of bitter is simply inevitable, after all,” Linghu Chong concluded.

“Totally! Totally! If you had not mentioned it, I would have thought that it was because the flame was too high at the time of the distillation. I’ve really blamed that royal cook wrongly,” Mr. Paint said.

“What royal cook?” Linghu Chong asked.

“Well, I was afraid to spoil the ten barrels of great wine with incorrect degree of heating at the time of the distillation, so I made a special trip to the imperial palace in Beijing and grabbed the royal cook to come back with me so he could make the fire and brew the wine for me.” Mr. Paint grinned.

“Making a mountain out of a molehill?” Mr. Black-White shook his head.

“I see,” Xiang Wentian cut in the conversation. “If it were for just ordinary ones, it wouldn’t matter much for them to have the bitterness in their drink. But Second Master and Fourth Master are lofty hermits that retreated to the lakeside of the scenic West Lake, completely different from the rough fellows in the Martial World. Once the wine is iced and rid of the roughness, then it would match perfectly with the status of the two lofty masters. It is just like the gamesmanship in the game of Go.[6]Combating with shear strength would only fall into the ninth grade of gamesmanship while masters in the first or second grade of gamesmanship would seek a contest of spirit and understanding….”

“You know the game of Go?” rolling his queer eyes once again, Mr. Black-White suddenly grabbed at Xiang Wentian’s shoulder and asked eagerly.

“The game of Go is the favorite in my life. Unfortunately my skills are just ordinary. So I traveled all over the country in pursuit of Go manuals. Throughout the past thirty years, I’ve managed to memorize quite a few of the famous games of all ages,” Xiang Wentian replied.

“Which famous games have you memorized?” Mr. Black-White asked excitedly.

“For example: The game w.a.n.g Zhi watched when he encountered celestial beings on Mount Decayed Helve,[7] the game Liu Zhongpu played against the Fairy Granny on Mount Li,[8] and the game w.a.n.g Jixin heard between the mother and the daughter-in-law fairy foxes[9]….”

Before he even finished, Mr. Black-White had begun shaking his head in disappointment. “Those are only myths. How can they be credible? And how could there be real game manuals from those myth stories?” At that word, he let go of Xiang Wentian’s shoulder.

“Well, at first, I also thought these were just stories made up by busybodies, but twenty-five years ago when I saw the game manual for the game between Liu Zhongpu and the Fairy Granny of Mount Li with my own eyes and realized how pointed and profound each move was, nothing an ordinary person could have made up, that was when I believed whole heartedly that the myth story was real. Is Senior Master also fond of this game?”

Mr. Paint suddenly burst into an uncontrolled laugh, his long beard fluttered about once again.

“Why are you laughing?” Xiang Wentian asked.

“Didn’t you ask my Second Brother if he is fond of the game of Go? Ha-ha-ha! My Second Brother’s name is Mr. Black-White. You tell me if he likes the game or not. They way Second Brother loves the game of Go is just like how I love the art of drinking,” Mr. Paint said in amus.e.m.e.nt.

“Good heavens! Second Master, please excuse my random talk. That’s like displaying one’s slight skill before an expert,” Xiang Wentian said hurriedly.

“Did you really see the game manual for the game between Liu Zhongpu and the Fairy Granny of Mount Li?” Mr. Black-White asked. “I’ve seen recordings from ancient journals about this story. It said that Liu Zhongpu was the national champion at the time, but he lost miserably to a countryside granny at the foot of Mount Li and spat out several liters of blood from the frustration. That’s why this famous game manual was named the ‘Blood-Spitting Manual.’ Could this ‘Blood-Spitting Manual’ really exist in this world?”

When he first entered the room, his face had looked completely indifferent, but now it was covered with excitement.

“Twenty-Five years ago, I had the chance of reading it in the old residence of a well-known family in Chengdu, Szechwan. Because it was such a stunning battle, even after twenty-five years, I could still remember every single one of the entire one hundred and twelve moves,” Xiang Wentian elaborated.

“There are a total of one hundred and twelve moves? Why don’t you show it to me? Come on, let’s go to my game room to set it up,” Mr. Black-White proposed anxiously.

Mr. Paint stretched his arms out and blocked the way.

“Hold it! Second Brother, if you don’t make ice for me, see if I’ll ever let you leave,” he said as he took out a white china basin filled with clear water.

“Alas, each of the four brothers has his own ‘thing’ to be crazy about. It’s hopeless,” Mr. Black-White sighed.

He stretched out his right hand and inserted his index finger into the water. Only a short moment later, faint traces of white mist began rising from the water surface, and soon, h.o.a.r frost began forming along the edges of the basin. Before long, a thin layer of ice appeared at the water surface. The ice grew thicker and thicker and only minutes later, the water inside the basin had all turned into cold ice. Xiang Wentian and Linghu Chong both cheered loudly.

“I heard that the ‘Violent Wind Finger’ Kung Fu had been long lost in the Martial World. Who would have thought that the Second Master…?” Xiang Wentian said.

“This is not the ‘Violent Wind Finger.’ This is called the ‘Profound Heavenly Finger,’ which is a much more advanced Kung Fu in comparison with the truculent ‘Violent Wind Finger’ Kung Fu,” Mr. Paint clarified promptly. Without any delay, he had placed four wine cups on top of the ice as he spoke and filled them with Grape Wine. Shortly afterwards, traces of white mist began rising from the surface of the wine.

“Now!” Linghu Chong said.

Picking up a wine cup, Mr. Paint tossed the wine down, and sure enough, the wine tasted thick and mellow and there was not a trace of bitterness. In addition, a taste of cool and refreshing was also added to the wine and made it even more delicious. He couldn’t help but praise.

“How marvelous! Now I did a great job brewing the wine; Brother Feng did a great job explained it; Second brother did a great job made the ice. Well, what about you? Hmm….” He grinned at Xiang Wentian. “You did a great job stooging alongside.”

Mr. Black-White drank up his wine casually, didn’t even pay any attention to the flavor of it. Grabbing Xiang Wentian’s arm, he pulled.

“Come on! Come on! Show me how Liu Zhongpu’s ‘Blood-Spitting Manual’ looks like.”

Xiang Wentian gave Linghu Chong’s sleeve a gentle pull, and Linghu Chong immediately understood. “I’d like to go take a look, myself.” he said.

“I bet you there’s nothing interesting about it. Why don’t you and I stay here and enjoy our wine?” Mr. Paint suggested.

“We can watch the game and enjoy our wine at the same time,” Linghu Chong replied and began walking following behind Mr. Black-White and Xiang Wentian.

Mr. Paint had no choice but follow them into the game room, holding the big wine barrel under the arm.

The game room was a very s.p.a.cious room, but other than a stone table and two soft chairs in the middle of the room it was completely empty. The top of the stone table had been carved into a game board with a grid of nineteen vertical and nineteen horizontal lines. On the two ends of the checkerboard sat two baskets, one filled with black game pieces and one with white ones. Apparently having no other articles in the room except the table, the chairs and the game pieces was to minimize distractions for the players.

Xiang Wentian walked to the stone table and then placed one game piece on each of the “star” points on the four corners of the game board. Next, he set a white game piece on the six-three intersection, then a black game piece on the nine-three intersection, a white game piece on the six-five intersection, a black game piece on the nine-five intersection. He went on and on and placed one game piece after another onto the game board, gradually slowing down as he went.

The black side and the white side began a fierce dogfight from the very beginning of the game, and neither side had even one poor move. Mr. Black-White looked at the game board with fixed stares and soon sweat streamed down his forehead.

Linghu Chong found himself baffled by the scene. He had witnessed how Mr. Black-White turned water into ice with his “Profound Heavenly Finger” Kung Fu, which would have required extraordinary inner energy cultivation, but he didn’t even break a sweat; playing Go game was only an unorthodox school,[10] yet he was sweating profusely just watching a game. When one had great concern about something, he would more likely to lose his rational. This man was crazy about the game of Go, and Xiang Wentian most probably had picked this weakness of his intentionally as a breakthrough.

Sure enough, when Mr. Black-White noticed that Xiang Wentian hadn’t put any game piece down a long while after he showed the sixty-sixth move, he turned impatient.

“What about the next move?” he asked.

“That is a key step of the game. Where do you think the next game piece should be at?” Xiang Wentian grinned.

Mr. Black-White pondered upon the question for quite a while and finally muttered, “Well, where do I want to put this one? A Tsuke move would be inappropriate; a Dame move would not be right; a Sagari move wouldn’t make it through; to make two eyes seems impossible.[11] Well…well…well….”

Holding a white game piece with his index finger and middle finger, he rapped on the stone table with it, but after almost half an hour, he was still unable to decide where on the game board to put this game piece. By then Mr. Paint and Linghu Chong had each drank up seventeen or eighteen cups of wine, already.

“Brother Tong, isn’t this the ‘Blood-Spitting Manual?’ Do you really want my Second Brother to spit up blood because of it? Whatever the next step is, why don’t you just tell us what it is straightforward?” noticing that Mr. Black-White’s face began turning livid, Mr. Paint proposed.

“Alright! The sixty-seventh move should be right here,” Xiang Wentian replied as he placed a game piece at the seven-four intersection.

“Splendid!” Mr. Black-White called out as he smacked his thigh with excitement. “To place the game piece there is a brilliant move, indeed.”

“Liu Zhongpu’s this move is, of course, a brilliant move. But it’s only a clever move from a mortal champion. When compared to the divine move from the Mount Li Fairy Granny, it is far inferior,” Xiang Wentian said with a smile.

“What about the divine move from the Mount Li Fairy Granny?” Mr. Black-White inquired eagerly.

“Second Master might as well give it a try,” Xiang Wentian said.

Mr. Black-White pondered upon it deeply but could only conclude that this was destined to be a losing battle, and it would have been impossible to turn the tide. So he shook his head.

“Since it’s a divine move, how can any one of us mortals figure it out? Brother Tong, there’s no need to sell the climax.”

“This move contained wonderful foresight. It really takes an immortal to figure it out,” Xiang Wentian grinned again.

Mr. Black-White was an expert in gamesmanship, thus also became very proficient in reading an opponent’s minds. Since Xiang Wentian wouldn’t just speak out the game manual frankly, which made his heart itchier by the second, he reckoned that Xiang must had something he wanted in return.

“Brother Tong, if you tell me this game manual, I a.s.sure you that you won’t be disappointed.”

Linghu Chong thought to himself, “Is it possible that Brother Xiang knew this Second Master’s ‘Profound Heavenly Finger’ Kung Fu can cure my injuries, that’s why he went around in such a big circle for the request?”

“Brother Feng and I have nothing to request of the four Masters of the Manor. Second Master’s words have really put us two down,” Xiang Wentian raised his head and said.

“I beg your pardon for my discreet remark.” Mr. Black-White bowed deeply. Xiang Wentian and Linghu Chong also bowed in return.

“The two of us came to the Plum Manor because we’d like to make a wager with the four Masters,” Xiang Wentian said.

“”Make a wager? What kind of wager?” Mr. Black-White and Mr. Paint asked in unison.

“I want to make a wager that no one in the Plum Manor can beat Brother Feng here in sword arts,” Xiang Wentian answered.

At those words, Mr. Black and Mr. Paint both turned to look at Linghu Chong. Mr. Black-White’s face looked apathetic and with no sign of approval or disapproval. Mr. Paint, on the other hand, broke into a loud laugh.

“What’s the stake then?” Mr. Paint asked.

“If we lose, I’ll give this painting to Fourth Master,” Xiang Wentian replied as he untied the package on his back and opened it, inside which were two scrolls.

Xiang Wentian opened one of the scrolls and a very antiquated painting appeared in front of everyone’s eyes. At the upper right corner of the painting the autograph read, “Traveler in Mount Brook, Painted by Fan Zhongli of the Northern Song.”[12]In the painting, a towering mountain shot up to the sky, steep and magnificent, well ill.u.s.trated with the thick ink style. Even though Linghu Chong had little knowledge about painting, he could still tell that this scenery painting was an excellent piece of art. The awe-inspiring mountain stood tall and upright. Although it was only a picture on the canvas, one still couldn’t help but feel the admiration soaring in his heart.

“Holy cow!” Mr. Paint cried out. Fixing his eyes upon the painting, he could no longer look away. After a good while he finally spoke again, “This is the authentic work of Fan Kuan in the Northern Song era. Where…where did you get it?”

Xiang Wentian smiled but did not answer. Slowly, he began rolling the painting into a scroll.

“Wait,” Mr. Paint called out.

He reached out and pulled Xiang Wentian’s arm, trying to stop Xiang from rolling the painting. But as soon as his hand touched Xiang’s arm, a stream of soft yet vigorous inner energy shot out of Xiang’s arm and gently pushed his palm away. Xiang Wentian looked as though he had no idea about what had just happened and slowly rolled the painting back into a scroll. Mr. Paint was amazed. When he had pulled Xiang Wentian’s arm just now, he had not really put much strength into the pull, afraid that he might damage the painting. But the inner energy push from Xiang’s arm clearly showed very advanced inner energy cultivation. Moreover, apparently Xiang had not used his inner energy to the full extent. He felt his admiration growing inwardly.

“Old Tong, turned out your Kung Fu is so excellent! It’s probably on par with mine,” he praised.

“Fourth Master must be joking! Aside from the skills in sword arts, the four masters of the Plum Manor are invincible in any other kind of Kung Fu. I, Tong Huajin, am just a n.o.body. How could I ever be compared to the Fourth Master?” Xiang Wentian replied.

“Why did you say ‘aside from the skills in sword arts’? Are you so sure that my swordsmanship is not up to his?” Mr. Paint pulled a long face.

“Two Masters, what do you think of this work of calligraphy?” Xiang Wentian let out a slight smile and then unrolled the other scroll, which turned out to be a piece of Crazy Gra.s.s[13] style calligraphy with extremely cursive scripts.

“Oh, oh, oh!” Mr. Paint cried out in surprise. After the three “oh” he suddenly shouted out at the top of his lungs, “Third Brother! Third Brother! The treasure of your life is here!”

The shout was so loud and explosive that even the walls, the windows and the door jolted while dusts on top of the rafters and beams on the ceiling began falling. Additionally, the shout was so sudden that Linghu Chong was completed astounded.

“What’s the fuss?” a man asked from a distance.

“If you don’t hurry up to take a look, once they put it away, you are gonna regret it for the rest of your life!” Mr. Paint shouted.

“You’ve found another counterfeit calligraphy work, haven’t you?” the man outside replied.

The portiere was raised and a man stepped into the room. This was a short and stout man, the top of his head completely bald without a single hair, which shined profusely under the light as though it had been polished. There was a big brush in his right hand and there were ink marks all over his robe. He walked closer to take a look at the calligraphy work, and suddenly, his eyes became wide open and he began breathing heavily.

“This…this is authentic! It really…really…is the ‘Willful Book’ by Zhang Xu of the Tang Dynasty. It can’t…can’t…can’t be fake!” he muttered, his voice trembling.

The strokes of the Gra.s.s Style writing on the paper appeared unrestrained and extensive, as though a Kung Fu master was performing the martial arts of Qing-Gong, leaping up sometimes and bending low some other times, swift in the movement, yet exquisite in the poise.

Out of each ten characters, Linghu Chong could only recognize one at his best. But the many stamps of seals and postscripts at the bottom of the calligraphy book easily convinced him t

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