Shooting the Eagle: Starting from Iron Palm Peak

Guo Jing, Huang Rong, Lin Qi, and Mu Nianci left Zhongdu and headed south.

The scenery of Jiangnan is completely different from that of the North. The North is characterized by loess, withered trees, and a hazy sky; here, however, there are green waters, verdant mountains, and villages with white walls and black tiles. It was Guo Jing's first time in Jiangnan, and everything was new and exciting. Riding on horseback, he looked around curiously, constantly asking Huang Rong what this was and what that was. Huang Rong answered him with a smile, occasionally even testing him. Lin Qi and Mu Nianci walked at the very back. Mu Nianci was still carrying Yang Tiexin's iron spear; she didn't talk much, but her spirits had improved considerably.

That day, the four of them traveled to a mountain hollow, and it was nearly noon. Huang Rong reined in her horse, looked around, and said with a smile, "We're hungry. Let's find a place to get something to eat."

Guo Jing nodded and said, "Alright. There's a grove of trees ahead; let's rest there."

The four dismounted and tied their horses to trees by the roadside. Huang Rong untied a bundle from the horse's back, took out a rooster that had already been washed, and then took out an oil paper packet from her bosom. Inside were seasonings such as salt, minced ginger, and scallions. She spread the seasonings evenly on the chicken, then dug up a piece of yellow mud from the roadside, mixed it with water, and used it to coat the entire chicken.

Guo Jing squatted down to watch, and asked curiously, "Rong'er, what are you doing?"

Huang Rong laughed and said, "I made beggar's chicken. My father taught me how to make it, and it's delicious."

Lin Qi stood to the side, a thought suddenly occurring to him. Beggar's Chicken—this was the opportunity for Hong Qigong's appearance in the original story. He looked around; the woods were dense, and a gentle mountain breeze was blowing—it was indeed a good place to roast chicken.

Huang Rong buried the chicken, which was covered in yellow mud, in the ground, then piled up a fire on top and lit it. The firelight shone on her face, making her eyes sparkle. Mu Nianci squatted beside the fire, adding firewood for her, and the two chatted idly.

About half an hour later, the yellow clay cracked from the fire, and a rich aroma wafted out from the cracks. The aroma was strong and mellow, a blend of the scorched earth and the savory chicken, carried on the mountain breeze.

Guo Jing sniffed and swallowed: "It smells so good."

Huang Rong smiled and said, "It will be ready in a little while."

No sooner had the words left his mouth than footsteps echoed from the depths of the woods. An old man strode out. He was in his fifties, tall and imposing, with a ruddy complexion and piercing eyes. He wore tattered clothes patched upon patched, with a large, vermilion-lacquered gourd hanging from his waist and a green bamboo cane in his hand. As soon as he appeared, his gaze fixed intently on the clump of dried, cracked yellow clay, his Adam's apple bobbing, and saliva nearly drooling from his mouth.

"It smells so good!" The old man walked quickly to the fire, squatted down, circled the lump of yellow mud twice, sniffing it constantly, and staring intently at it.

Guo Jing and Huang Rong were both startled and stood up. Guo Jing clasped his hands in greeting and said, "This old gentleman—"

The old man waved his hand, his eyes never leaving the lump of yellow mud: "Don't talk, don't talk, talk later."

Guo Jing was taken aback, unsure of what to do. Huang Rong, however, couldn't help but laugh.

The old man finally raised his head, looked at Huang Rong, then at Guo Jing, glanced at Lin Qi and Mu Nianci, and finally his gaze returned to Huang Rong's face.

"Little girl, did you cook this chicken?"

Huang Rong smiled and said, "I made it."

The old man chuckled and rubbed his hands together. "This old beggar has traveled all over the country for decades and eaten many good things, but this aroma is the first I've ever smelled before. Young lady, could this old beggar have a taste of your chicken?"

Huang Rong's eyes darted around, and she said with a grin, "If the old lady wants to eat, of course she can. But—" She paused deliberately, "the chicken isn't ready yet."

The old man was so anxious that he scratched his head and squatted by the fire, staring longingly at the lump of yellow mud, muttering, "Almost there, almost there, just a little longer."

After another short while, Huang Rong used a twig to pry the yellow mud out and cracked open the dry mud shell. The mud skin, along with the chicken feathers, fell off, revealing tender white chicken meat, steaming hot and fragrant, ten times more fragrant than before.

The old man couldn't resist any longer and reached out to grab it. Huang Rong quickly stopped him, saying with a smile, "Old man, don't rush. This chicken butt is the most delicious, would you like some?"

The old man's eyes lit up, and he laughed heartily, "Yes, yes, yes! This old beggar loves chicken butts the most!"

Huang Rong tore off a piece of chicken's tail and handed it to the old man. The old man took it and swallowed it in a few bites, not even spitting out the bones. After finishing, he even licked his fingers, still wanting more.

"Good! Good! Good!" the old man exclaimed three times, laughing heartily. His laughter was so loud it shook the leaves in the forest to fall. "Young lady, this chicken you've cooked is absolutely delicious! This old beggar has lived for decades and has never tasted such delicious beggar's chicken!"

Huang Rong smiled and said, "I'm glad the old lady likes it. Here, have another piece." She tore off another piece of chicken and handed it to her.

The old man took it and ate it heartily, asking as he ate, "Little girl, what's your name? Whose child are you? Your cooking is so good, your father must be a discerning eater."

Huang Rong smiled and said, "I am Huang Rong, and my father is Huang Yaoshi."

The old man was stunned, almost dropping the chicken in his hand: "Huang Yaoshi? You're Huang Yaoshi's daughter?"

Huang Rong smiled and said, "Does the old lady know my father?"

The old man laughed heartily, "I know him, I know him. Your father, that old geezer, was skilled in martial arts, but he had a strange temper. Back in the Mount Hua Sword Tournament, this old beggar fought him to a draw." He looked Huang Rong up and down, his eyes full of admiration, "You're much more interesting than him. You can cook and you can talk, unlike your father, who always has a stern face."

Huang Rong wasn't angry at all, and with a smile, she handed over another piece of chicken.

The old man took it and was about to eat when his gaze suddenly fell on Mu Nianci. He frowned, looked at her carefully for a few moments, and then suddenly exclaimed, "Eh!"

"Little girl, come here." The old man beckoned to Mu Nianci.

Mu Nianci stepped forward and bowed, saying, "Old lady—"

The old man stared at her face for a long time, then suddenly asked, "Is your surname Mu?"

Mu Nianci was taken aback: "My surname is indeed Mu. How did you know, sir?"

The old man carefully examined her face, then looked at the iron spear on her back, and suddenly slapped his thigh: "It really is you! Little girl, don't you recognize this old beggar? Back in Xinyang, you and your adoptive father saved two of my Beggar Clan disciples, and this old beggar taught you martial arts for three days in a dilapidated temple. Have you forgotten?"

Mu Nianci looked at the old man carefully, then suddenly recognized him. Her eyes reddened, and she knelt down with a thud: "Senior Hong! I was blind and didn't recognize you. I will always remember your great kindness in teaching me martial arts back then."

Hong Qigong quickly helped her up, laughing, "Get up, get up, don't kneel. This old beggar hates these formalities." He glanced at the iron spear on Mu Nianci's back, then at the expression on her face, and sighed, "Little girl, you've grown so much. Where's your godfather? Why isn't he with you?"

Mu Nianci lowered her head and said softly, "My godfather... has passed away."

Hong Qigong paused, remained silent for a moment, and then sighed, "What a pity. Your godfather was a good man. Back in Xinyang, even the old beggar could tell." He didn't press further, but instead untied his wine gourd from his waist, took a swig, wiped his mouth, and said, "Little girl, don't be sad. The dead can't be brought back to life. Living well is the best way to honor your godfather."

Mu Nianci nodded, tears welling up in her eyes, but she didn't let them fall.

Hong Qigong looked at Guo Jing again, sizing him up and down. His gaze lingered on Guo Jing's palm for a moment, then he looked at his posture, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes.

"Who is this silly boy?" Hong Qigong asked Huang Rong, pointing at Guo Jing.

Guo Jing quickly clasped his hands and said, "Junior Guo Jing greets Chief Hong."

Hong Qigong said "Oh," nodded, and didn't say anything more. After he had eaten and drunk his fill, he took out a glittering golden dart from his pocket, placed it on the ground, wiped his mouth, and turned to leave.

Guo Jing stared blankly at the golden dart, a feeling he couldn't quite describe welling up inside him. He picked up the dart, chased after Hong Qigong, and stuffed it back into Hong's hand, saying, "Old man, we only invited you to eat because we consider you a friend. We can't accept your gift."

Hong Qigong was taken aback, then burst into laughter, put the golden dart into his pocket, patted Guo Jing on the shoulder, and strode away.

Huang Rong gazed at Hong Qigong's retreating figure and whispered, "Brother Jing, do you know who he is?" Guo Jing shook his head. Huang Rong said, "He is Hong Qigong, the Nine-Fingered Beggar, the current leader of the Beggars' Clan, the Northern Beggar who is as famous as Father!" Guo Jing was both surprised and delighted, and asked, "Rong'er, how do you know?" Huang Rong said, "I saw that he was missing a finger, and he's so greedy and gluttonous, who else could it be but Hong Qigong?"

Guo Jing said, "He's gone, let's go too." Huang Rong tugged at his sleeve and laughed, "Brother Jing, don't you want to learn a few moves from him? His martial arts are superb." Guo Jing shook his head and said, "He's a big shot, why would he teach me? Besides, we invited him to eat chicken because we consider him a friend, not to ask him to teach us martial arts." Huang Rong laughed and said, "You're such a simpleton."

The next day, Huang Rong cooked another delicious dish, and its aroma wafted out, attracting Hong Qigong once again. Hong Qigong ate heartily, and after finishing, he was about to leave. Huang Rong's eyes lit up, and she smiled, "Master Qi, since you've eaten our food, you must teach us a few moves, right?" Hong Qigong shook his head and said, "No, no, this old beggar hates being taught martial arts."

Huang Rong wasn't in a hurry and prepared a variety of dishes for several days. Hong Qigong came for every meal, eating with a beaming smile, but he never mentioned teaching martial arts. Although Guo Jing also wanted to learn, seeing that Hong Qigong was unwilling to teach, he didn't bring it up either. He simply followed Huang Rong every day to cook and gather firewood, and occasionally helped Mu Nianci practice her martial arts.

Lin Qi watched from the side, secretly amused. He knew that Huang Rong was playing the long game; although Hong Qigong said he wouldn't teach, he would eventually succumb to the temptation of delicious food.

That day, Huang Rong prepared a dish called "Jade Flute Playing: Who Hears the Falling Plum Blossoms?", which Hong Qigong ate with great relish. Huang Rong seized the opportunity to laugh and say, "Qigong, you've eaten so much of this for days, why don't you teach Brother Jing a move or two?" Hong Qigong glanced at Guo Jing and shook his head, saying, "This silly boy is incredibly stupid; it would be a waste of time to teach him."

Huang Rong pouted and said, "Seventh Master, if you don't teach us, we won't cook for you." Hong Qigong chuckled and said, "Fine, if you don't want to cook, then don't. This old beggar can go find food elsewhere." He stood up and was about to leave.

Guo Jing suddenly spoke up, "Seventh Master, Rong'er was just joking with you. If you like to eat, we'll cook for you every day. Whether or not we teach you martial arts is your business; we can't stop cooking for you just because you don't want to."

Hong Qigong stopped, glanced back at Guo Jing with a hint of surprise in his eyes, then walked back and sat down. He looked Guo Jing up and down, then nodded: "You silly boy, you have a good heart."

Seeing that Hong Qigong's attitude had softened, Huang Rong deliberately sparred with Guo Jing, using the Falling Flower Sword Palm to overwhelm him. Hong Qigong, watching from the side, gradually brightened his eyes and suddenly asked, "Little girl, who taught you this palm technique?" Huang Rong smiled and replied, "My father taught me. Hong Qigong, do you think Brother Jing could still beat me if he learned the Eighteen Subduing Dragon Palms?"

Hong Qigong snorted, "Little girl, you've got a good plan. This old beggar's Eighteen Subduing Dragon Palms isn't something you can just teach anyone." Huang Rong said with a grin, "Qigong, you're a master of martial arts, and the Eighteen Subduing Dragon Palms is the best palm technique in the world. If Brother Jing learns it, it will bring you honor."

Hong Qigong pondered for a moment, then said to Guo Jing, "Silly boy, kneel down and swear an oath that you will not teach the skills I passed on to you to anyone else without my permission, not even your clever little wife." Guo Jing was in a dilemma and said, "Qigong, I don't want to learn anymore. Let her be better than me." Hong Qigong asked in surprise, "Why?" Guo Jing said, "If she wants me to teach her, it would be unfair to her if I didn't, and it would be unfair to you if I did."

Hong Qigong chuckled and said, "Silly boy, you're quite clever. You really mean what you say. Alright, this old beggar will teach you a trick. Starting tomorrow, you'll learn from me."

Guo Jing was overjoyed and immediately knelt down to kowtow. Hong Qigong waved his hand and said, "Don't rush to kowtow. I can teach you, but you have to promise me one thing."

Guo Jing said, "Please speak, Seventh Master."

Hong Qigong said, "The martial arts I teach you must be used to uphold justice and not to do evil. If I find out that you use the martial arts I taught you to bully good people, I will be the first to not forgive you."

Guo Jing said solemnly, "This junior will keep in mind Master Qi's teachings."

Hong Qigong nodded, then turned to Mu Nianci and said with a smile, "Little girl, don't just sit around. How much of the 'Free and Easy Wandering' technique that this old beggar taught you back then do you still remember? Come tomorrow, and this old beggar will give you a few more pointers."

Mu Nianci's eyes were slightly red, and she bowed deeply.

Lin Qi stood to the side, watching this scene, a warm feeling welling up in his heart. He looked at the sunset on the horizon, then at Mu Nianci beside him, and a slight smile appeared on his lips.

Hong Qigong stood up, dusted himself off, and said to Guo Jing, "Silly boy, wait for me here at dawn tomorrow. If you're late, this old beggar won't teach you."

Guo Jing quickly replied, "Yes!"

Hong Qigong laughed heartily, carrying his wine gourd, and strode into the depths of the woods.

Huang Rong grabbed Guo Jing's arm and jumped up excitedly: "Brother Jing, that's wonderful! Master Qi is going to teach you martial arts!"

Guo Jing smiled憨厚ly, scratched his head, and his eyes were full of gratitude.

Mu Nianci walked to Lin Qi's side and said softly, "Brother Lin, Senior Hong is a good person."

Lin Qi nodded: "Yes. There aren't many people like him left in the martial arts world."

As the sun set, the clouds on the horizon were dyed golden-red. The four packed up their belongings and found a flat spot to set up camp. A campfire was lit, illuminating each person's face.

Lin Qi sat by the fire, watching the flickering flames, lost in thought. Hong Qigong was about to teach Guo Jing the Eighteen Subduing Dragon Palms; that was Guo Jing's destiny. He also had his own destiny—the Nine Yin Manual in his possession. He needed to find a quiet time to cultivate it properly.

Mu Nianci sat beside him, holding the iron spear in her hand, its tip pointing downwards, stuck in the ground. The firelight reflected on her face, and her long eyelashes cast a small shadow on her cheek.

"Brother Lin," she suddenly said softly, "thank you."

Lin Qi turned to look at her: "Thank me for what?"

"Thank you for bringing me here." Mu Nianci lowered her head, her voice very soft. "Thank you for taking care of me all this time."

Lin Qi smiled and said, "No need to thank me. Uncle Yang entrusted you to me, and I promised him I wouldn't go back on my word."

Mu Nianci raised her head, the moonlight illuminating her face, making her eyes bright. She didn't speak again, but simply sat there quietly, a slight smile playing on her lips.

A night breeze blew by, carrying the scents of earth and grass. In the distance, the chirping of insects drifted in, intermittent and seemingly telling a story.

Lin Qi leaned against a tree and closed his eyes. Starting tomorrow, Guo Jing would begin learning the Eighteen Subduing Dragon Palms. And he, too, would begin cultivating the Nine Yin Manual.

Everyone has their own path; no one can walk it for another.