He then started out for Lion Peak and the duel.

3

The slopes of Lion Peak produce abundant quantities of tea, one of the most exquisite varieties of the leaf under heaven. The mountain itself is high and precipitous, and few people go to the very top.

Wang Weiyang, his great sword slung across his back, clambered up the steep slope and emerged through the tea bushes onto an expanse of open ground on the summit. He noticed walking towards him a tall, robust man wearing a short jacket. The man stared at him for a moment.

"Are you Wang Weiyang?" he asked.

"Yes. And you are the Fire Hand Judge, Zhang Zhaozhong?"

"I am. Do you wish to fight bare-handed or with weapons?" Zhang was a very thorough man. He had searched about carefully during his climb up the peak, but had found no sign of anyone lying in ambush.

Wang was startled to see Zhang's mouth and nose were swollen and with his right eye ringed in black, injuries caused by Chen the night before. "We have no great grudges against each other," thought Wang. "Why risk killing him with a sword-stroke? The consequences of killing an official of his rank are unthinkable. It will be enough to humiliate him with my Eight Diagram Kung Fu. I'll show him I'm not egotistical."

"I would be honoured to pit myself against your famous Limitless Occult Kung Fu, Master Zhang," he said out loud.

"Fine," Zhang replied. He brought his fists together in salute and waited for the other to attack.

"If I may…" Wang said, and as he spoke, his left fist shot out and his right hand sliced across towards Zhang's right shoulder. Then in a flash, his left fist flipped over and aimed for the right shoulder while the right hand went for the chest. Zhang retreated three paces and fended off the blows. The two circled around, surprised at the extent of the other's ability.

"His moves are fast and powerful," Zhang thought. "He's a strong adversary."

"He avoided those blows of mine with ease," Wang thought. "Fire Hand Judge is no misnomer."

Suddenly, Zhang stepped forward and swept his left leg across at Wang, who jumped clear off the ground to avoid it and countered with a fist aimed at Zhang's face.

They were evenly matched and fought close and fast. The sun was riding high and their two shadows danced on the ground, merging and separating in a flash. Wang knew that at his age, a long battle would finish him. So he quickly changed his style, and with one hand protecting his body and the other facing outwards, he raced round Zhang, his feet following the pattern of the Eight Diagrams.

The style dictated that he keep moving, circling round Zhang to the left and right, waiting for an opportunity to strike. It would make even a kung fu master dizzy after a few circuits.

Zhang knew how ferocious this style was, and lunged at his opponent. But Wang had already circled round the other way. Suddenly he struck at Zhang with both fists, one of which slammed into his shoulder. Zhang caught hold of Wang's wrist and struck out at his elbow in retaliation. With his free hand, Wang swung at Zhang's other shoulder and the two leapt apart.

Zhang had had the worst of the encounter. "Your kung fu is excellent," he shouted. "Let us duel with swords."

He drew his Frozen Emerald sword, Wang also drew his sword and the two stood facing each other.

Zhang's mind was bent on recovering face, and he struck out with a series of attacking sword strokes, fast and vicious. Wang could tell from the way the light glinted on the Frozen Emerald sword that it was a superb weapon, and knew that if the two swords clashed, his own blade would come off the worst. So he did not dare to directly parry the strokes.

They fought round and round. Wang began to sweat and he secretly worked a number of darts into his palm and then swapped his sword over to his left hand. He slashed out with a left-handed stoke, and simultaneously flung the darts at Zhang. Zhang managed to dodge both dangers, but he was becoming flustered by the onslaught. He swept his sword across at Wang's waist, and as the two swords clashed, Wang's blade snapped cleanly in two.

Wang roared and hurled the remaining half at Zhang, and followed it with his remaining three darts. With a cry, Zhang fell over backwards and the Frozen Emerald Sword dropped to the ground.

"Master Zhang, forgive me!" Wang cried out anxiously. "I have some Golden Scar Ointment here."

Zhang was silent. Wang feared he was dead, and killing a court official was no laughing matter so he rushed across and bent down to examine Zhang.

As he did so, he saw flashes of gold before his eyes. Cursing himself, he leant over backwards as fast as he could, but too late. He felt stabs of pain in his left chest and shoulder as the needles plunged home. He gave another angry roar and jumped up ready to fight Zhang to the death. But as he swung his sword, the pain in his chest and shoulder was so extreme that he fell back to the ground with a groan. Zhang laughed out loud. He pulled one of Wang's darts from his wrist, ripped a strip of cloth off his jacket, bound the wound then stood up.

"How could you attack me when I was coming to see if you were injured?" Wang demanded angrily. "What sort of man are you to do such a despicable thing? We'll see if you have the effrontery to face the rest of the fighting community after today."

"There's only the two of us here. Who else knows about it?" asked Zhang with a smile. "Having lived to such a ripe old age, it's about time you went to meet your forefathers."

He picked up half of Wang's snapped sword and dug a hole in the ground, then heaved Wang to the edge of it.

"So you're the North China Earth-Shaker," he said. "I'll give you some earth to shake." He kicked Wang into the hole and began to bury him alive.

As he worked, he heard a long, cold laugh from somewhere behind. He whirled round in fright and found Lead Escort Han standing there with an Iron Pipa in his hand.

"So that's it!" Zhang shouted angrily. "The Zhen Yuan Bodyguard Agency arranges a one-to-one duel and secretly sets up an ambush. Do you have no shame?"

"It is you that is shameless," Han replied pointing to Wang.

"All right, you can demonstrate your Iron Pipa kung fu for me," Zhang said. He flew at Han using Lightness Kung Fu and thrust his sword at him. Han retreated two steps and a sword struck out at Zhang from amongst the bushes. Zhang parried the stroke, and saw the swordsman was the other lead escort who had accompanied Han to see him earlier.

"Come on, fight me together. It is of no consequence to the Fire Hand Judge," he shouted.

Just as he was about to strike, he heard a noise behind and turned to see eight or nine men walking towards him led by the Red Flower Society's Great Helmsman, Chen Jialuo. A shiver of panic passed through him, and he glanced about, looking for some avenue of escape.

"Brother Han, go and look after Master Wang," said Chen. Han ran over to the hole and helped Wang out.

"Master Wang said he wished to have a private duel with no observers or seconds," Zhang shouted.

"My brothers and I came to admire the scenery and happened to come across the two of you," Chen replied. "It was a very artistic display, but you did not win very honourably, Master Zhang."

"We were matching our strength and our wits. What is wrong with such a victory?"

"You are wise indeed, Master Zhang." Chen walked slowly forward. "We want to rescue Master Wen."

"Well?"

"His manacles are made of the finest steel which no file could get through. I therefore have no alternative but to ask you to lend us your excellent sword. As a member of the fighting community, I am sure you will be happy to oblige."

Zhang looked at the number of his adversaries and knew it would be difficult to get away.