Shooting the Eagle: Starting from Iron Palm Peak

On this day, Lin Qi and Zhou Botong exchanged more than forty moves.

Zhou Botong withdrew his palm and stepped back, slapping his thigh and laughing, "Good! You lasted forty-three moves today! Practice for a few more days, and you'll be able to do fifty!" Lin Qi, panting, clasped his hands and said, "Brother Zhou, you're too kind." Zhou Botong waved his hand, "What's there to be kind about? If I had held back even a little, I might not have been able to beat you. It's your own improvement. You young man, your martial arts have progressed so quickly; I've never seen anything like it in my life."

Guo Jing sat to the side, holding a piece of dry rations in his hand, munching on it while reading, smiling憨厚ly.

He stayed in the cave for about ten days, listening to Zhou Botong recite the Nine Yin Manual every day, and watching Lin Qi and Zhou Botong spar. Although his martial arts skills did not improve as quickly as Lin Qi's, his horizons broadened considerably.

Zhou Botong sat down on the dry grass, leaning against the stone wall, his hands behind his head, gazing at the cave ceiling. The ceiling was a single piece of granite, with traces of rainwater seepage on it, like an abstract painting.

He stared at the marks for a while, then suddenly sighed.

"I was locked up in this dilapidated cave for fifteen years. Before you came, I was bored to death. No one to talk to, no one to fight, not even a ghost. Old Huang Xie would occasionally come to bother me, play his broken flute, and then leave without ever playing with me."

He paused, then lowered his voice.

"Sometimes when I feel really bored, I talk to myself, saying one thing to one side and another to the other, pretending to be two different people. Later, even talking became meaningless, so I started fighting with myself."

Guo Jing asked curiously, "How can you fight yourself?"

Zhou Botong perked up, sat up abruptly, and stretched out his hands.

He throws a punch with his left hand and a palm strike with his right, attacking with the left and defending with the right, attacking with the right and defending with the left. His left hand slowly unleashes a move called "Empty Fist," the movement ethereal and unpredictable; at the same time, his right hand strikes the starting stance of a move from the Quanzhen Swordplay, the edge of his palm like a sword, sharp and fierce.

Attacking from the left and defending from the right, attacking from the right and defending from the left, he used both hands to counter and change moves, fighting with great force.

"Look," Zhou Botong explained, gesturing as he spoke, "the left hand is Huang Yaoshi, the Eastern Heretic, and the right hand is Ouyang Feng, the Western Poison."

He flipped his left hand, his five fingers like claws, grabbing at his right wrist; his right hand retracted, dodging the claws, and then struck his left elbow with a backhand. His two hands flew in front of his chest, the changes in his moves so fast that Guo Jing was dazzled.

Lin Qi secretly admired him. Zhou Botong's Ambidextrous Fighting Technique, seemingly a game, actually contained extremely profound martial arts principles—using two minds at once, using one mind at a time, fighting with both hands simultaneously, which is equivalent to one person becoming two people.

When facing an opponent, suddenly using this move makes it impossible for the opponent to defend against. He couldn't help but recall the feeling when he sparred with Zhou Bo - the Empty Fist was already unpredictable, but if you add the Ambidextrous Fighting technique, where both hands use different moves at the same time, it would be twice as unpredictable.

For the past two weeks, he has been sparring with Zhou Botong every day. From being defeated in the first twenty or so moves to now being able to withstand forty moves, he feels that his understanding of martial arts has deepened with each additional move he has endured.

Zhou Botong fought with increasing vigor, using the Empty Fist with his left hand and the Quanzhen Sword Technique with his right. His hands moved faster and faster, the wind from his palms whistling through the cave and the iron chains rattling.

After exchanging forty or fifty moves, he suddenly stopped, letting his hands hang down on his knees. He took a breath and laughed, "How was it? Fun, right? This is called 'Dual-Handed Combat,' fighting against yourself. My left hand is Guo Jing, and my right hand is Lin Qi; my left hand is the Eastern Heretic, and my right hand is the Western Poison. I can fight whoever I want, however I want. I've been locked up in this cave for fifteen years, and this is how I relieved my boredom."

He looked at the two of them with a smile, "Do you want to learn?"

Guo Jing's eyes lit up, and he exclaimed, "Brother Zhou, this kung fu is so interesting! I want to learn!"

Lynch nodded. Although he knew he might not be able to learn it, he still wanted to give it a try.

Zhou Botong slapped his thigh and stood up: "Come, come, let's learn the most basic technique first—drawing a circle with the left hand and a square with the right. This skill trains multitasking, with each hand doing its own thing without interfering with the other. Only after mastering this can you learn the rest."

He stretched out his hands, drawing a circle in the air with his left hand and a square with his right. The circle was perfectly round, and the square perfectly square; they were drawn simultaneously without interfering with each other.

After finishing the drawing, he withdrew his hands and looked at Guo Jing and Lin Qi. "You two give it a try."

Guo Jing eagerly stretched out his hands, drawing a circle with his left hand and a square with his right. At first, neither hand obeyed his commands, and the circle he drew looked like a crooked melon or a cracked date, while the square looked like a twisted trapezoid.

He was sweating profusely, and the veins on his forehead were bulging. Zhou Botong shouted from the side, "Don't rush! Clear your mind, don't think about what your hands are doing, let each do its own thing! Your left hand doesn't know what your right hand is doing, and your right hand doesn't know what your left hand is doing, that's right!"

Guo Jing closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and cleared his mind of all the jumbled thoughts.

He remembered what Jebe had taught him when he was shooting arrows in the desert—to keep his mind calm, his hands steady, his eyes fixed on the target, and not to think about anything else. It was the same now; he stopped caring about what his right hand was drawing and focused only on drawing a circle with his left hand.

He drew a circle with his left hand, and then his right hand followed suit. No, he was wrong again. He stopped and started again. This time, he came up with a plan—he would draw a square with his right hand, and his left hand could draw whatever it wanted; no matter how his left hand drew it, his right hand would simply draw the square.

He tried it out, drawing a square with his right hand and a circle with his left. Although the circle wasn't quite round and the square wasn't quite square, his two hands were indeed separated.

"It's done!" Guo Jing opened his eyes and exclaimed in surprise.

Zhou Botong leaned over for a look, then slapped his thigh with delight: "Good! You silly boy, you're really something! Again! A few more times, until you can draw it effortlessly."

Guo Jing tried several more times, each time getting better than the last. By the fifth attempt, the left-hand circle and the right-hand square were drawn clearly and distinctly, without interfering with each other.

Zhou Botong was overjoyed, patting Guo Jing on the shoulder and saying, "It took me several days to master this skill. You silly boy, you got it in just a few tries! You're born to learn this! Aren't you just incredibly naive?"

Guo Jing scratched his head, unsure how to answer. Huang Rong often called him a "silly boy" outside, and the Seven Heroes of Jiangnan also said he was "honest," but he never thought of these as any merits.

But for Zhou Botong, honesty actually became a good thing.

Zhou Botong rubbed his hands together, as excited as a child, wishing he could immediately cram all his martial arts skills into Guo Jing's head. "Come, come, let me teach you another move. Use the first move of the Empty Fist with your left hand and the first move of the Quanzhen Swordplay with your right hand. Move both hands at the same time, but don't let them interfere with each other."

He spoke while gesturing, his left hand moving ethereally and his right hand sharp and fierce.

Guo Jing followed along, and although his movements were still a bit clumsy, he could already mimic different moves with each hand. Zhou Botong nodded repeatedly, praising him incessantly, "Good! Good! You silly boy, you're even better than the Old Urchin was back in his prime!"

Lin Qi stood aside, watching Guo Jing learn with great enthusiasm, and also tried to stretch out his hands, drawing a circle with his left hand and a square with his right.

He concentrated, his left hand beginning to draw a circle, his right hand beginning to draw a square. Halfway through his left hand's stroke, his right hand followed suit, drawing a circle; then his right hand drew a square, and his left hand followed suit, drawing a square. His two hands seemed bound together by an invisible rope, inseparable.

The more he tried to separate, the less they could. He tried more than a dozen times, but never succeeded.

He changed his approach, first practicing drawing circles with his left hand separately, then practicing drawing squares with his right hand separately, and finally practicing both at the same time. But as soon as he tried to do it at the same time, his two hands got tangled up again, like two children fighting, neither willing to give in.

Zhou Botong glanced at him and shook his head: "Your mind is too cluttered, you think too much. This skill requires a clear mind, a blank head. You can't do that. You are skilled in martial arts and quick-witted, but it's precisely because your mind is too fast that you can't learn this skill."

He paused, then added, "But it doesn't matter. You already have the Nine Yin Manual, so you don't need my skill."

Lin Qi lowered his hands and smiled faintly. He knew Zhou Botong was telling the truth.

He possessed both volumes of the Nine Yin Manual, the comprehensive outline of all martial arts, encompassing everything from internal energy cultivation methods to external techniques, from healing points to soul-shifting techniques. Ambidextrous fighting was a skillful technique, but the Nine Yin Manual was the foundation. With the foundation, skillful techniques were merely icing on the cake.

Moreover, in the past two weeks, he had fought Zhou Botong, and his skill had improved so rapidly that even Zhou Botong was amazed. While ambidextrous fighting was good, too much of a good thing could be bad. The Nine Yin Manual was enough for him to study for a lifetime.

Guo Jing continued practicing, becoming more and more enthusiastic, sweat beading on his forehead, yet he refused to stop. Zhou Botong sat back down on the dry grass, hands behind his head, watching with amusement.

He said to Lin Qi, "This kid's good, better than I was back then. It took me several days to even get the basics right when I was learning this skill. He, on the other hand, mastered it in just a few tries."

Lin Qi sat down in a corner of the cave, closed his eyes, and silently circulated the internal energy cultivation method of the Nine Yin Manual.

His internal energy flowed smoothly through his meridians, much more so than in the past few days. Over the past two weeks, he had been sparring with Uncle Zhou during the day and practicing the Nine Yin Manual at night, and his internal energy had been improving rapidly.

The internal energy cultivation method in the first volume of the Nine Yin Manual complements and reinforces the Yi Jin Jing and Duan Gu Jing he had previously practiced. He integrated the two skills, and although the Iron Palm technique remained the same, the way he exerted his power became more flexible and he had more room for maneuver.

When he fought Zhou Botong, he was able to hold out for more than 20 moves until he reached more than 40 moves. In a few more days, he might be able to hold out for 50 or 60 moves.

Thinking of this, a sense of anticipation welled up in his heart—to spar with a master like Zhou Botong, to learn something new every day, and to last a few more moves in each match than the last, this feeling of progress was more exciting than anything else.

Inside the cave, Zhou Botong was teaching Guo Jing with great enthusiasm.

He taught Guo Jing the first move of the Empty Fist, "Empty and Misty Pine," with his left hand and the first move of the Quanzhen Swordplay, "White Clouds Emerging from the Peak," with his right. Guo Jing followed along, drawing circles with his left hand and arcs with his right, his hands gradually taking shape. Zhou Botong nodded repeatedly, the wrinkles on his forehead smoothing out.

Lin Qi opened his eyes and glanced at Guo Jing. Guo Jing was waving his hands around with great enthusiasm, a childlike smile on his face, like a child who had just received a new toy, focused and happy.

Lin Qi didn't disturb him and closed his eyes again. The text of the Nine Yin Manual flowed through his mind, each sentence like water in a deep pool, seemingly calm, but with undercurrents surging beneath. He savored each word, pondered each sentence, and compared those profound Taoist mental techniques with his own Iron Palm skill.

After some time, Zhou Botong yawned, lay down on the hay, muttered "I'll practice again tomorrow," and started snoring.

Guo Jing was also tired, and he leaned against the stone wall and fell into a deep sleep.

Lin Qi stood up and tiptoed to the cave entrance. Moonlight filtered through the peach branches, scattering shards of silver across the ground. Peach petals drifted down in the night breeze, settling at the cave entrance in a thin layer. The distant sound of ocean waves was clear and distinct.

He slowly raised his right palm, incorporating the energy manipulation techniques he had learned that night into his Iron Palm Kung Fu, and struck out silently.

As the palm strike passed, peach petals drifted down gently, neither shattered nor blown away, but rather floated lightly to the ground as if supported by something. The power was contained within, released at will.

This was the result of his arduous training over the past two weeks—his Iron Palm skill remained sharp, but with an added layer of ethereal variation, making it even more unpredictable for his opponents.