The four of them drank together, talking idly yet with great warmth. When the old man Luo Jing spoke of the past, his eyes lit up, his whole bearing suffused with heroic spirit, as though he had returned to the days of his youth when he roamed the martial world unrestrained. He recounted how, upon first entering the jianghu, he relied on his martial skill and burning chivalry to right wrongs and aid the oppressed, gradually making a name for himself until he was renowned as a young hero of the age. In time, he was recruited by the ninth Hall Master of the Loyal and Righteous Hall, and succeeded him as the tenth Hall Master.
"In those days, I was young, proud, and full of vigor. In all the martial world, none did not know the name Luo Jing." His gaze deepened as he smiled faintly and went on: "After taking up the mantle of Hall Master, I did not confine myself to one place, but journeyed to the Western Regions, visiting many lands, drinking in the beauty along the way, making friends among the local heroes—and it was there that I formed an unbreakable bond with Gulnazar…"
At this, Zhao Rou asked curiously, "Senior, was this Lady Gulnazar your confidante in love?"
Luo Jing threw back his head and laughed, his eyes growing distant as he sank into old memories, a trace of wistfulness in his tone. "A confidante… you could say that. When I first met her in the Western Regions, it was as though we had known each other forever. We traveled together through snow-capped mountains and endless deserts, witnessed the grandeur of lone smoke rising over the vast sands, and fought side by side—leading heroes of many nations in a joint stand against the Tibetan army. That battle shook heaven and earth, and I still bear its mark in my heart…"
His voice lowered, tinged with regret. "But alas, the affairs of the world cannot be foretold…"
He said no more. Wu Tong and Zhao Rou, however, were utterly enthralled, as if Luo Jing's adventures were playing out before their eyes. In their minds, they too were on the battlefield, galloping into the fray, clashing with foreign foes. Such grand and stirring exploits stirred their blood, and they remained absorbed until late into the night, reluctant to stop.
That night, their sleep was dreamless. When the first light of dawn appeared and the crowing of roosters broke the silence, the sky was touched with pale silver.
At daybreak, Wu Tong and Zhao Rou rose early and stepped out of their guest room. Mist wreathed the mountain air, cool and fresh. Standing in an open space, they were about to begin their morning practice when they saw Luo Jing already there, hands clasped behind his back, as though he had been waiting.
"Good morning, you two," Luo Jing said with a deep-set gaze.
Wu Tong and Zhao Rou exchanged a look of surprise, then cupped their hands in salute. "Senior, why are you here so early?"
Luo Jing smiled faintly, his eyes far-away. "The fact that you were able to enter this valley is itself the work of fate. Since fate has brought us together, I would like to teach you a set of palm techniques. What do you say?"
Wu Tong was taken aback at first, then quickly replied, "Your kindness is appreciated, Senior, but it would be wrong for me to accept such a gift without having earned it."
At this, Luo Jing laughed heartily, clearly pleased. "You're a courteous young man indeed! But I am not teaching you without reason—I have waited for you two for more than ten years. Now that the destined moment is here, why refuse? Come, let's begin!" His tone was mild, but carried an authority that could not be gainsaid.
Though startled by his words—Waited for us for ten years? What could he mean?—they saw that his decision was firm, and so they bowed and said, "In that case, Senior, we shall respectfully accept."
Luo Jing nodded slightly. "Today, I shall teach you the Sixteen Palms of the Northern Sea. Watch carefully—morning is young, and there is time enough to learn."
The Northern Sea Palms comprised sixteen moves, the distilled essence of Luo Jing's life's study of martial arts. The style blended hardness with softness, its force as overwhelming as the surging sea or the collapsing of mountains. The sixteen forms were:
North and South of the Great River – like torrents reversing their flow, palm-shadows flying, shaking heaven and earth.
Sudden Leap into the Sky – body following the palm's arc, springing like a dragon, striking the enemy's vital points.
Overturning Rivers and Seas – inner force becomes raging waves, continuous palms without flaw.
Boiling Sea, Rolling Waves – palm winds stacking in layers, like storm-tossed seas overwhelming the sky.
Striding the Mountains, Pressing the Sea – power like a mountain falling, sweeping aside all foes.
Uprooting Mountains, Outstripping the Sea – explosive force shaking the heavens, unmatched in might.
Vast as Sea and Sky – broad and boundless, unpredictable in change.
Sea Unruffled by Wind – body nimble, palms moving like the moon in still water, following the heart's intent.
Ends of the Earth, Corners of the Sea – fierce, elusive strikes, here and gone in a blink.
From South to North – movements erratic, footwork ethereal, striking without form.
Sea Embracing a Hundred Rivers – internal force stored and released at will, four ounces to move a thousand catties.
Sea and Sky as One – heaven and earth united, inner force intertwined, offense and defense in harmony.
Crossing the Sea under Heaven's Eye – using illusion to mask reality, palms deceiving the eye.
Toppling Mountains, Overturning Seas – palm force like mountains falling, sweeping armies aside.
Shifting Mountains, Filling Seas – ever-changing, sealing off every path of retreat.
Mountain Collapsing, Tidal Wave – the ultimate killing move, releasing boundless inner force, crushing all in its path.
When he finished naming the moves, Luo Jing's figure stirred, and he began to demonstrate. The palm winds roared, and the surrounding flowers, grass, and leaves quivered under invisible force. The air itself seemed to grow heavy with pressure. Wu Tong and Zhao Rou held their breath, watching as his palm-shadows flew, hardness and softness flowing together—each form a piece of the vast and mighty rhythm of nature.
This palm art… truly extraordinary, Wu Tong thought, his blood surging with excitement. Zhao Rou's eyes shone, eager to master this skill.
Luo Jing ended the sequence and said calmly, "Have you memorized it? Now it's your turn."
He slowed his movements deliberately, tracing arcs with his palms before snapping them forth with crushing force. The transitions were smooth, the intent guiding the energy, each strike perfectly measured. Wu Tong and Zhao Rou stood with feet shoulder-width apart in deep horse stances, following every step—sweeping, shifting, thrusting—one form after another. Their foundations were strong, and they learned quickly, earning Luo Jing's nods of approval.
He then taught them the inner cultivation method for the Northern Sea Palms:
"The Northern Sea Divine Skill is the way of internal energy. This way is called Dao; where the Dao resides, there Qi resides. The Great Way has no name, yet nourishes all things, sustaining heaven and earth, uniting the primal breath. Qi is the parent of Dao, the root of man. It is present from birth and departs at death. The art of breathing is the essence of martial training: Qi stored within, expressed without. Sit cross-legged, palms upon knees, eyes closed, mind still, free of stray thoughts. Part the lips slightly, inhale slowly, exhale slowly, deep and even, filling and emptying fully, nurturing inner strength as days and months pass…"
He paused, then continued:
"Whether sitting or walking, in daily life or in training, guard your breath. Use intention to lead the Qi into the dantian, let it circulate through the body, gradual and unceasing, until it becomes second nature and your skill grows day by day."
After learning the heart method, Wu Tong and Zhao Rou practiced the Northern Sea Palms several more times, followed by the internal skill. By then, the sun was already high, and they paused to take their meal.
Because of their training, they stayed another night. On the following day, when they prepared to depart, the old couple came to see them off. Luo Jing said, "Here are three silk sachets—blue, yellow, and green. The wandering diviner Qian Kunzi bade me pass them to you. He said that when you face difficulty, choose one according to the principles of yin and yang and the five elements—inside you will find the means to resolve your troubles."
Wu Tong received the sachets with both hands, puzzled but grateful. "Thank you, Senior, for your hospitality these past days. We shall take our leave."
As they turned to go, Gulnazar called out, "Wait—Jing-ge, you've forgotten one thing. Qian Kunzi also said: when you leave this place, ride north to Wolong Ridge. As to why, he did not say."
Mounting their horses, the two waved farewell and rode off. Ahead lay a neat row of apricot trees, lush and green. They passed through the grove and headed north toward Wolong Ridge. Life, like a play, offers no choice in the roles we are given; in the martial world, one often cannot act freely, but can only play one's part as best one can.
After twenty li, they reached Wolong Ridge. Suddenly, with a sharp bang, a bamboo tube shot into the sky, bursting overhead with a crack like fireworks. Startled, they spurred their horses onward.
When they reached the ridge, they saw martial artists from many factions gathered there. Quickly leading their horses to a hidden spot, they crept forward quietly to avoid being noticed. At the mouth of a cave, they recognized among the crowd the Eastern Heavenly King Yang Chao and the Western Heavenly King Xiao Cheng of the Black Dragon Sect, as well as the eccentric Wuliang Hermit.
Before them stood a mountain manor. At its entrance, a burly middle-aged man with a broadsword in hand, his frame like a tiger or a bear, shouted: "Xiao Jian! You have betrayed your master and your sect, and colluded with outsiders. What punishment do you deserve?"
Xiao Jian was thin, with a short beard under his chin. Smiling, he replied, "The martial skills of our sect are deep and profound, admired by all factions. Surely, Senior Brother, you will enlighten me further."
This man was Xiao Jian's senior brother, named Guo Yuan. At his words, Guo Yuan's anger flared, but he quickly regained composure. In a low voice, he said, "Though Wolong Sect is not among the great orthodox schools, it is still a proper sect of the jianghu. Why would you conspire with outsiders to steal our sect's martial manuals?"