A/N: This author's note is mostly just to prevent the "Prev" tab over there from messing with the format. Interesting Note: The maximum amount of PM's per day is 300. Not gonna do that again. Probably. Also, 39 reviews? Holy crap did my theory prove true. I think this is the start of a long career of munchkinery. Muahahaha!
In all seriousness, I'd like to thank everybody for the honest feedback! I read the reviews as they were posted, and I'll do the same for this chapter. I couldn't have asked for more. Lastly, I'd like to mention that I tend to respond to the critical reviews that make me think or teach me something new. Just something I noticed over the past week.
On to the finale!
Tai Lung made the first move, legs leaping into a blur of motion and kicking up the shattered remains of the door and pillar. He aimed the sharp, wooden stakes and hard stones at every vital organs I had – throat, eyes, heart, and stomach, to name a few – with the occasional off-target shard flying at an exposed bit of muscle instead.
My grin widened. I admired the brutality of the attack as my own arms flew into motion, spinning the chains wrapped around them at mortally-impossible speeds, blocking the projectiles with the flat ends of my jade blades. I once performed this technique in a part of the Spirit Realm filled with mirrors, against "Master" Porcupine. From the outside, it looks like a solid green shield.
Just as my opponent depleted his ammunition, he retreated to the other, mostly un-shattered door that I'd embedded in the opposite wall. He wrenched the wood free with a single pull and threw it at me in the same motion.
The door filled my vision for just a second. My grin threatening to twist from my face as I was struck with an idea; turnabout is fair play, after all. I let one of my swords drop to the floor, protecting my shin from a final stone in the process, which freed my right hand for a powerful punch. I shattered the door in a cloud of dust and shrapnel that exploded away from me like a firework. Only in the moment immediately after this did I realize I'd broken a cardinal rule of combat, however shortly: never lose sight of your opponent.
Tai Lung scattered the dust of this door more violently than the first's in a vigorous assault. His aggression dwarfed those of all my previous opponents combined – his eyes glowed scarlet with even more unfettered rage than before as he leapt into a flurry of punches, kicks, swipes, slashes, chi-blocking jabs (to which I've long since been immune), and even the occasional bite.
None found purchase, of course, but the sheer amount of attacks forced me to go on the defensive. Tai Lung allowed no opportunities for a counterattack at all. I blocked, ducked, and parried, only once managing to return a punch, which exposed my flank for a fraction of a second and almost led to its gutting. I came to the conclusion very quickly that I shouldn't attack unless absolutely certain it wouldn't leave me vulnerable.
Tai Lung did not tire in the slightest – an advantage we share as spirits – using his newfound stamina to its fullest potential. He did not relent or retreat, and his rage only seemed to build as he fought, like a fire with an endless amount of fuel, growing larger as it is fed.
I had no chance to test my opponent's defenses and every chance to practice my own. It's not every day I'm forced to maintain my rusty (but still well-trained) defensive deflects and protective parries, so I welcomed the opportunity with open arms.
The fist fight continued for a time, my right sword still on the floor and my left hilt in my grip, dedicated to the singular purpose of a make-shift shield.
Once I felt that my defensive skills were sufficiently practiced, I took a massive, chi-aided leap backwards, leaving Tai Lung's range. Or at least, leaving the range of his fists and claws.
He responded to my retreat by grabbing the scattered weapons of the training hall and sending them my way before I had even landed, using unnatural strength to grip and release every weapon type imaginable – spears, tantos, wakizashis, katanas, staves, clubs, axes, darts, and throwing stars, just to name a few.
I switched my stance from defensive to passive, my second-most unpracticed battle style, intending to dodge the projectiles this time around. Though my larger frame made it more difficult to pull off, my centuries of practice with chi-boosted reflexes and speed allowed me to evade with relative ease. I was executing flawless sidesteps, backsteps, ducks, tucks, and rolls in under a minute – but no jumps; I cannot maneuver well mid-air without both swords at the ready, unlike the feline felon who jumped from weapon rack to weapon rack, emptying them of their deadly contents in seconds.
It was only when my own sword came flying at my head that I decided I'd had enough practice. Just as the green weapon passed through the spirit-air that my head had occupied mere moments ago, I grabbed the chain, gave it a yank, and let the sword's momentum carry the links around my arm in a spiral until the jade blade's grip was in my fingers once again.
Tai Lung, not one to slow his assault for any reason, had found a bow and quiver in the infinitely brief pause, and was now firing even faster projectiles than before. His paws were a flurry, the string of the bow moving back and forth like the strings of a lute.
I always hated the lute.
Using perhaps more chi than necessary, I augmented my own durability, causing the wood-tipped training arrows to harmlessly bounce off my temporarily iron-like skin.
Tai Lung growled in frustration, dropping the bow in favor of a long line of crossbows near the wall, which he picked up and fired in quick succession.
I only allowed the first few bolts to graze me before returning to my passive stance, not keen on becoming a pincushion. The sapphire-tipped bolts, most of which were aimed at my eyes and neck – the softest parts of my body – either punctured clean, crack-free, and perfectly circular holes in the wall behind me or flew through the open doorway, escaping into the ever-reddening lair outside.
I imagine Tai Lung would have continued this tactic till the end of time if he hadn't run out of loaded crossbows to fire. Once he did, he only took a moment to examine his surroundings, and a moment more to resume his assault. He sprinted into a maze of wooden training dummies and broke many, throwing the self-made projectiles my way. This time, he stopped the futile effort much sooner, likely realizing that the crossbows were his only chance of damaging me at a range, and that he was now being foolish.
"Done so soon?" I taunted, exploiting the only potential weakness I could find in the warrior before me. "And here I thought I was fighting a grown leopard, not a kitten."
That sure did the trick. Tai Lung roared, his chi flaring wildly as he knocked over a brazier and his fur caught fire. I had no time to wonder whether he knew he was using chi to keep from burning alive, or if the effort was entirely unconscious, as it appeared to be. The same could be said about the speed he used closed the gap between us.
I resumed my passive ducks and sidesteps, only ever making contact with the blazing fists and feet to push them aside immediately before they struck whichever vital point they'd been targeting. From experience, I know exactly how enraging it can be to fight a passive opponent – one who only ever initiates a single attack of his own: the killing blow. The rest of the fight is spent observing, running, and evading, to the ever-increasing frustration of the attacker.
The style had the intended effects. With each swing, Tai Lung became more consumed, the glow of his eyes burning brighter than the fire eating away at his fur. His movements lost accuracy and precision as they grew more feral. His swings now resembled those of a wild beast, rather than a trained Kung-Fu master.
"What's the matter?" I asked, sidestepping a full body-lunge. "Your daddy never taught you to tame your temper?"
He roared savagely, the fire on his fur blazing into an inferno, like a set of armor born in the heart of a volcano. His entire head became coated in a solid-red sheen that was brightest where his eyes had been. It was at this point that he lost any remaining semblance of a martial artist. He fell down on all four legs and completely, perfectly relinquished his body and mind to the inner demon that lies within us all. His past training could only be seen in the sheer power and speed of every attack.
It seems I am no longer fighting an intelligent foe. What attacks me now, what lunges at my throat with speeds greater than even I can reach with the help of chi, what claws at my chest and heart and lungs like a hungry animal… what I see before me is nothing more than a monster. And, like all monsters, Tai Lung had lost the advantage that his mind had given him. Where before his attacks left no chance for riposte, now each blow left an opportunity for a counter-attack, each strike left a window just waiting to be broken. Those windows were only left un-shattered due to the heavy recoil of blocking his unavoidable attacks.
Like a bird that knows instinctively how to fly, the Leopard needed no instruction and no training to use his own chi. Ever since Tai Lung went berserk, his – its aura flared with every movement, casting the training hall in such a blinding light that we appeared to be fighting on the surface of a blood-red sun.
And for the first time in my afterlife, I was afraid. The feeling wasn't strong by any stretch of the imagination, of course… but it was there, and it distracted me just long enough for one of the Leopard's attacks – a slash aimed at my left shoulder – to hit its target, claws sinking deep into my muscles.
I grunted at the pain, but redoubled my focus, determined to keep my distracting emotions at bay. A true master of Kung Fu does not ignore his emotions in a fight; he uses them to his advantage, like a sword – a double-edged sword, which only the most skilled warriors can bend to their will without risking fatal, self-inflicted wounds.
Fear is not one of these self-empowering emotions; fear can only be used by the master strategist to foresee danger or by the craven to escape it. No Kung Fu warrior, even the intelligent few who use emotions as tools, can use fear in the middle of a fight.
Anger is one of these emotions, so long as it is not allowed to boil over into mindless rage. Anger-fueled strength, speed, and ferocity are some of the greatest shortcuts to power. However, the moment anger becomes rage is the moment it begins to consume you, as it has with Tai Lung.
Only having the two emotions to work with at the moment, I allowed a hot flood of fury to flow under my fur and through my veins, stopping just short of mindlessness. My vision blurred in hatred at the memory of Oogway's betrayal, the pain in my shoulder disappearing into an all-encompassing fire of passion, and I finally began to push back with a few swings of my own.
My arms became a blur of green and gray, my feet more coordinated than any dancer's, and the immediate ground around me glowed a brilliant green, surpassing the red aura in solid brightness, though not in scope or scale. I was still within Tai Lung's lair, after all. Or perhaps that's simply the nature of a wild, all-consuming source of chi – it spreads well, but is difficult to contain or concentrate. If I could have viewed this battle as a spectator, I knew my chi would seem more refined, more cutting, and more precise than the feral power around me.
My blows were more accurate, more damaging, and more cunning than my opponent's. Each exchange left a wound on my body, but two on his. Every time he neared, I pushed my advantage, until I finally put the Leopard on the defensive.
Its guard wasn't nearly as flawless as its assault. Nor was it very effective. Like a predator at the top of its food chain, the Leopard didn't know how to handle a foe stronger than itself.
No longer was I wounded after each individual bout – now, the only spirit-body to suffer the pain of battle was that of Tai Lung.
The Leopard soon realized this, and just as quickly took the only available action to ensure its survival. It bolted, attempting to flee through the entrance of the training hall like a helpless little bunny flees from a wolf.
This drew a snort from my snout, and I flung my swords faster than he could escape them. My lingering anger made the technique slightly less accurate than usual, but it served its purpose, regardless of the collateral damage.
The chains surrounded the beast that had consumed Tai Lung, trapping him in a metal spiral and sending him crashing to the ground. The glow of his eyes had dimmed and the fire of his fur had extinguished the moment he'd tried to escape. The feral movements and sounds were now dulled to a less-mindless, almost intelligent set of frustrated snarls and struggling.
I let a long, light chuckle escape my lips. "Back again?" I asked, the taunting no longer necessary but feeling entirely appropriate.
"Release me!" Tai Lung shouted, his chi flaring in an attempted escape.
"I'm afraid I can't do that," I told him. "You see, I need your chi to escape this place." I shook my waist slightly, letting the jade figurines clink together. "You will make the final addition to my collection before Oogway becomes the crowning jewel."
"I will be nothing of the sort!" he snarled.
"You don't have a choice," I said, weaving my hands in the ancient art of chi-stealing.
Tai Lung's eyes widened as he felt his life energy take solid form, encompassing his body in a slowly-growing, red jewel cocoon. I paid the unusual color no mind; whether it's blue, red, or the usual gold, they always turn to jade in the end, no matter how strong the will of the opponent.
Omake (extra, non-canon) continuation:
Tai Lung, finally understanding his fate, twisted his features into a hateful glare, the pupils of his eyes mere slits, as they'd been when he began his descent into madness. "You… will… burn…" he cursed.
The final words echoed in the hall behind me as his lips turned solid crimson, and he shrunk to the size of a skipping stone.
I closed my eyes as I gripped the new chi in between my palms, breathing through my nostrils as I allowed the new power to course through me. And with the new power, far greater than any I'd yet to take, came something else… something painful.
I felt an insatiable, devouring lust for vengeance – far greater than I ever reserved for Oogway – begin to eat away at my senses.
My vision dulled, my arms began to shake, I felt the urge to drop to all fours, to charge at everything in sight, especially anything red, and-!
Deep breath.
Close your eyes.
Deep breath, Kai.
No rage.
The fight is over.
After a full ten seconds to regain my composure, I opened my eyes. I used my advanced mental capacities to simultaneously mollify my anger (an expansive vocabulary aided me in this task) and attempt to locate the source from which this new anger emanated.
"Power on par with a supernova... vigor as volatile as a volcano... anger as aggravated as an aggressive adder... Ah!"
Only then did I think to actually look at the figurine still clutched between my fingers. Only then did I realize that Tai Lung was truly unlike any opponent I'd ever faced.
His figurine was made of solid ruby, still radiating an intense, illuminating light. Far more concentrated than before, the chi made itself even brighter by violent vibrations. It was as if Tai Lung still had a will of his own… no, he did still hold a will of his own. His soul and chi remained completely independent from mine and he appeared to be using his diminutive form to inspire a new kind of fear – not the kind of fear a wolf puts in a rabbit, but the kind a virus instills in its host.
I snorted, pushing aside the useless fear and concentrating on my own chi, drawing on centuries of knowledge and training to dominate the life I simply knew I could control, the one I already held in between my fingertips.
The vibrations grew to the point where they could be heard, clattering like a rattlesnake's tail against my fingers. The red glow now almost matched the green glow around me.
Never before have I been met with such resistance. Every time my will pushed against his, Tai Lung's pushed back tenfold. An inferno of hatred threatened to consume me after each attempt, leaving my chi more and more unstable as the battle of spirits raged.
Five attempts later and I was on the breaking point. One more clash, I knew, would send me over the edge, and I would forever lose the control necessary to achieve my goals. I shouted wordlessly, thundering in frustration (my vocal cords weren't able to produce growls), and I looked once again at the figuring in my palms with narrowed eyes that shone a green light against the crimson. The scarlet glow burned with an ever-brightening incandescence, the vibrations quaking ever fiercer, and the chi statuette began burning my heat-resistant fingers like a hot coal.
Impossible, I thought. How could one soul hold so much power and hatred?
As if to answer my question, a roar came from the figurine, though it sounded more like a kitten's attempt to be fierce, likely due to the diminutive size. Tai Lung's chi threatened to burst free of its imposed chains. I could feel his anger slowly dissolving the cage.
And if he succeeded…
That, I knew, would be a battle hard fought – the outcome not nearly as predictable as the first. Or as favorable, even in the event of another victory. And that… could not be allowed.
I sighed, coming to the only safe conclusion I could find.
It was the most difficult decision I'd had to make in centuries.
I looked at the ruby figurine in my open palm, taking a single moment to admire the power and potential it held. If I had managed to tame that power, nothing could have stood in my way. I closed my eyes, bringing my second hand to cover the chi completely. Thoroughly depressed, I decided to give my best adversary to date a privilege I've not granted to any other: a parting message.
"Tai Lung. If you can hear this, know that you have been a Master both greater and wiser than any to come before you. Farewell, my most worthy opponent."
I clenched my eyelids even tighter, concentrating all my chi, stolen and otherwise, into my palms, and drew a deep breath. With a final huff, I crushed the figurine, feeling the chi burst in a swirl of emotional power.
It delivered one, final feeling before it disappeared forever: pure, unadulterated terror.
And then, the power was gone.
All that remained of my greatest foe to date was a red, misty powder. The powder slowly faded to black, taking the red glow of the lair with it, and leaving me in a powerless, pitch-black hall. Not even my chi provided anything more than an extremely dim glow, equivalent to the light that stars would give on a moonless and cloudy night.
Until this day, I had not known it would take so much energy to destroy a spirit, nor had I known how my prison would react – this was the first time I'd seen the Spirit Realm so empty of light.
It took me a full month to escape, guided only by the chi of Oogway.