Chapter Ten: Dragon Fall
Get up, Xiaoyu!
"I don't want to," she replied softly, squeezing her eyes shut.
My dear child, you must stand up if you want to continue our lessons.
Xiaoyu shook her head slightly, brushing the feather lightly against her cheek. Anger and indignation welled up in her chest, and she felt tears pooling under her closed eyelids. "I never wanted to become a fighter, grandpa!" she said, shaking her head. "I never wanted those stupid lessons and I never wanted to go to Japan and I never wanted to end up taking part in the Tournament and meeting him," she cried. Faded memories mixed with the thick smoke in the courtyard, prodding her relentlessly. She could almost hear the irritation in Jinrei's voice as he scolded her.
Ai-yaah, you're so immature! Sometimes I wonder how we can come from the same family. Now stop sulking and stand up!
"No," Xiaoyu mumbled, curling herself into a small ball as tightly as she could.
"Get up," rumbled a deep voice from overhead.
Wait a second, that's not my imagination… Xiaoyu's eyes shot open and she coughed weakly, trying to expel some of the toxic smoke from her lungs. Hazily, she saw a bulky figure towering over her. She blinked away the fuzziness and focused on the muscle-bound figure that was looking down at her with barely masked disdain. "Who are you?" she said cautiously, sitting upright. Shock registered as she took in the man's features; his long, black hair was pulled back into a braided queue. His pants were woven from fine, loose silk in a very familiar, traditional style, and his face was drawn and pinched, like roughly hewn rock. He looked unperturbed by the surrounding massive destruction, not even blinking as a piece of wood cracked and fell noisily in the temple behind them. Fuzzily, Xiaoyu focused on the first clear thought that registered in her mind. "You're Chinese too!" she blurted out in surprise.
"You are Morning Rain," he said to her, his question sounding more like a statement. He gave no sign of disapproval as he took in Xiaoyu's dishevelled appearance, but added one last monotonous syllable. "Weak," he stated, translating her surname in a tone that sounded very much like an insult.
Xiaoyu sprung to her feet, scowling at the large man. "You must be Feng Wei, then," she answered. "And Ling means delicate, not weak! You know, like a flower!" The chastisement seemed lost on the larger man, who simply ignored her and stood patiently, waiting for her to prepare for the tournament battle. Xiaoyu coughed once more and directed a glance at the burning temple behind them. "Doesn't this bother you at all?" she asked incredulously, covering her mouth.
Feng ignored her, simply staring at her with the same hard expression that had graced his face since she first opened her eyes. His eyes were unusually light for an Asian, contrasting sharply with his bushy, dark eyebrows. Coupled with his serious expression, it gave him a striking appearance, like a fierce dragon descended from the heavens to stalk his prey. It was not only his features that made Xiaoyu uncomfortable, however; Feng carried himself with a frightening air of discipline and control. He could win his bouts through intimidation alone, she thought nervously. "Hey, don't you talk?" she asked him, trying to break the tension as she carefully tucked the white feather away in her vest pocket.
Blinking once, Feng regarded her passively before speaking. "Fight me," he said to her.
As if to coincide with his statement, static crackled over the courtyard. The tone was weak and very difficult to hear, probably due to the damage being caused by the unexpected heat and flames in the area. The show must go on, Xiaoyu thought sourly as the announcer still managed to make the muffled broadcast. "Match thirteen, Feng Wei versus Ling Xiaoyu. Fighters, take your positions."
As if on cue, Feng bent his knees slightly, dropping to his battle stance and raising his arms. Xiaoyu felt a cold chill run down her back as she recognized the form. Shit, he's a Kenpo master. It's going to be like fighting a mirror! "What style do you use?" she asked lightly, pretending to stretch in an attempt to buy herself some time before the bout would begin.
Narrowing his eyes slightly, Feng answered her briefly. "Shaolin Kenpo." His answer was curt and Xiaoyu had the impression that he wasn't fooled by her attempted diversion. "Tell me your style."
"Oh, just some Hike Ken and a little other stuff," Xiaoyu answered breathlessly, hoping against hope that perhaps the monk wasn't as knowledgeable about martial arts as he appeared to be. Disappointment rose in her chest as she saw for the first time a hint of approval cross Feng Wei's rigid countenance.
"Pi Qua Quan, the Northern Shaolin Kung Fu style," he translated smoothly. "Very difficult for one such as yourself. I have also studied its forms." With that, all semblance of interest dropped from his face once more and he continued his patient wait, rocking slightly on his feet.
Nothing riles this guy, Xiaoyu thought nervously, finally opting to sink into her own fighting stance. She felt woefully unprepared for the battle, and a sense of doom tugged at her stomach as a bell tolled, signalling the start of the fight. They were almost the same height, so Xiaoyu guessed that Feng's reach couldn't be very different from her own. Still, she edged away from him cautiously, hoping to place herself out of range.
And then, with the blink of an eye, Feng was in motion. Xiaoyu squeaked in surprise at the burst of speed the muscular man produced as he sprung forward, bellowing curtly as leapt into the air. He twisted through the air, swinging his right leg around in a roundhouse kick that would have connected with her head had she not ducked in time. Her quick drop only provided temporary shelter for Xiaoyu, though, as Feng's leap transitioned smoothly into a graceful duck of his own. His left leg swept the ground, knocking her off balance and sending her tumbling to the ground.
Danger alarms jangled noisily through Xiaoyu's head as she rolled quickly to her feet, cursing silently. "That's one of my favourite moves," she muttered, regaining her balance and dropping into her stance once more. I can't stay on the defensive in this fight, or he'll win for sure! Despite her misgivings, she surged forward to launch her own attack. She swung her left leg around, attempting to bring her heel down in a solid blow against Feng's exposed chest. Again, he surprised her as he lifted his elbow and sidestepped, deflecting her blow gracefully.
They backed away from each other quickly and paused, each taking in the other's surprising speed and skill. Feng spoke first, studying his younger opponent. "Who was your master?" he asked quietly.
Xiaoyu kept her hands poised before her, not willing to let her guard down despite the quick respite he offered with the question. "I trained with my grandfather," she replied cautiously. "Why do you want to know?"
"Brave, fierce, sudden, quick, violent and sharp," he answered. "You understand the principles of Xing Yi Quan."
Again, a sense of danger filled Xiaoyu, along with a sharp lance of fear. This time, however, it was not for herself. There was something odd in the tone of Feng Wei's voice as he recited the basic concepts of Jinrei's fighting style. The massive Chinese man fell silent and studied her coldly with his odd, lightened eyes. It struck her like whiplash, at once. "You've killed before," she said out loud, faltering slightly. "You've killed innocent people before, just to master these styles?" Feng's cold silence stretched between them, answering her question. Xiaoyu felt her breath come in short pants. "Did you ki-- did you fight my grandfather in China?" Grandpa could handle this guy, she thought to herself as she broke out into a cold sweat. But then why would he be here right now, in the Tournament, if Jinrei was okay? She tried to ignore the knotting fear in her stomach and repeated her question loudly, with an air of bravado. "I asked you if you've ever fought Wang Jinrei."
Feng's eyes narrowed, and his body tensed. "No master of Xing Yi lives today in China."
Xiaoyu swallowed loudly. "What kind of an answer is that?" she squeaked, trying to squash her fears. Her mind was racing a mile a minute, trying to come up with justifications for Feng's obtuse answer. Maybe he's just travelling? Maybe he decided to finally take that vacation he was always talking about. Maybe everyone's forgotten about him already! Suddenly all Xiaoyu wanted to do was race away from the burning temple to the nearest phone and call her aging grandfather, to hear his frail voice and know he was well. The panic and doubt swirling around her mind came at the cost of her concentration, and it was a fatal mistake. She barely registered Feng's next attack, feeling only the pain explode as it connected. Not my stomach again! she thought feebly as she felt herself being lifted into the air.
Feng had latched on to her arms in her moment of distraction and tossed her over his head easily, the powerful muscles on his bare arms bulging. Xiaoyu thought at first that he was just going to drop her painfully, but as she fell, his fists struck out with lightning speed, slamming into her gut repeatedly and keeping her airborne. She fell towards the ground like a limp rag doll, but it wasn't enough; Feng ensured her defeat by lifting his foot rapidly and tracking her fall, brutally stomping on her stomach for good measure. The wind was knocked from her lungs, and Xiaoyu couldn't move, simply watch as Feng lifted his foot and then brought it down onto her once more, twisting his heel painfully into her side. My ribs, she moaned in agony, certain that she could feel them snapping under the crush of his massive weight. She wheezed in relief as the pressure left her side, and dimly registered the ring of the tournament bell.
"Feng Wei wins," the announcer voiced. Rolling, Xiaoyu doubled over and tried to quell the intense pain that flared up in her side from the motion. She gasped and panted desperately, trying to suck air back into her lungs, which felt as though they had been flattened completely. From the corner of her eye, she could see the large monk sinking back into his battle position, a look of satisfaction crossing his face as he waited for the next round to begin.
Get up, get up, my child, the lesson must continue! Jinrei's voice rang merrily through her head, filled with twisted mirth.
"This… isn't… a lesson," she gasped, trying to rise to her feet and falling back to her knees. Xiaoyu gave up, resting on her heels to try and catch her breath, and heard Feng Wei grunt in disapproval. Then, to her horror, she heard the bell chime again, and the announcer's voice echo through the courtyard.
"Ling Xiaoyu forfeits the second round by—"
Xiaoyu rolled to her feet faster than she had ever moved before, before the announcement could even be completed. Sucking in her breath, she yelled aimlessly in the direction of the temple, unsure of where the speakers had been hidden this time. "It's not over yet!" The pain from the unexpected movement and shout was excruciating, but she fell back into her crouch, one arm cradling her bruised ribs and the other held out weakly in a shaky semblance of her usual guard. Black spots circled before her eyes, but Xiaoyu gritted her teeth and blinked them away resolutely. "This is nothing compared to losing Jin," she mumbled under her breath. "I won't let you down, grandpa."
The announcer's voice was heard overhead after a moment of silence. "Round two. Fight!"
Xiaoyu was too weary to even cheer with relief at the second chance, but leapt backwards as Feng took two large steps towards her, moving smoothly through his set to close the distance between them. Instead of attacking, however, he paused and regarded her before speaking. "I believe I was mistaken."
"Mistaken?" Xiaoyu grit out, removing her supporting hand from her ribs, which protested loudly, and forcing herself into a proper guard.
"You could not have trained under the renowned Master Wang of the Xing Yi Quan. You are not skilled enough." He crossed his palms together, smoothly bringing himself nose-to-nose with Xiaoyu before stepping back, clearly demonstrating her inability to block his blow had he chosen to strike in that moment. "You are not a challenge. I do not wish to waste my time."
Huh, Xiaoyu thought as she narrowed her eyes at Feng Wei. Is he giving me a chance to back out? "Why?" she asked him.
"There is no prestige in defeating a helpless child," he answered, his face an unmoving mask of rock. To Xiaoyu, however, hearing those words made him seem more cruel and unforgiving than ever before.
"Don't call me a child!" she snarled, more than just the physical pain bringing tears to the corners of her eyes once more. As she spoke, she jumped forward, hitting Feng with her Nut Cracker move. It was a quick and dirty low kick she had picked up from watching street fighting in China, and one Jinrei had never approved of. It worked, however; the speed, surprise and complete lack of form acted to her advantage, allowing the light hit to land and break through Feng's guard unexpectedly. Being already much too close for her comfort to the hulking monk anyway, Xiaoyu quickly decided on a risky attack. She opened her right palm and thrust upwards, smacking his chin with a crude uppercut. Ignoring the screaming fire that blossomed in her side from the motion, she brought her hands forward as she twisted down into a crouch, hitting the monk twice more with her closed fists. She finished the combination by resting her weight on her palm and sweeping the floor twice with her leg, knocking Feng to the ground in two quick blows. It was all she could manage, however, and she had to back off, unable to continue her assault as the muscles against her stomach gave a spasm of protest to her movement.
To Xiaoyu's dismay, it was also not enough to keep the large man down, or cause the bout to be called. He rose to his feet slowly and settled into his guard position, a wary look on his face, and then struck like a snake. Feng Wei was most definitely not amused by Xiaoyu's sudden attack, and in retaliation, he aimed his next strike directly at her injured side. Unable to block the sudden hit, Xiaoyu screamed in pain as his fist connected with the bruised ribs. One punch was followed by another, and then another and she thought she might pass out with the pain. The bitter taste of blood filled her mouth, but she refused to give in to the darkness, and in a brief moment of clarity between punches, she saw Feng aiming low for his next strike.
"There is always a chance," Jinrei told a young Xiaoyu as she lay panting on the ground, tears of pain leaking out of her eyes. He offered her a compassionate grin and held out his hand, gently helping his granddaughter to her feet. "When you are pressed by a hopeless assault, you must learn to see more than just an attack."
"But it hurts," Xiaoyu said, doubling over and holding her stomach. "You're so mean, Grandpa!" she cried out. "It's not fair, you're better than me!"
Jinrei shook his head slowly, carefully guiding Xiaoyu's arms back into the proper form. "Life is not fair, Xiaoyu. Now now, my dear girl, it's only a matter of time before you understand the principles of Xing Yi. Every attack directed towards you is an opportunity. Do not just defend, strike back! Use the art of surprise and awareness, seize the moment and strike when it is least expected."
You're wrong, Grandpa, Xiaoyu thought, forcing herself to ignore the burning in her side. I never mastered the forms of the Xing Yi. Feng Wei obviously understood the teachings about form and position much more intuitively than she ever had. But she had understood at least one message Jinrei had tried so desperately to impart to her during their training together. I want to win!
She fell to her phoenix crouch in time to Feng's own dip, able to see the surprise register in his clear eyes as she continued her fall backwards and smoothly avoided the low blow. More than just dodging, however, she dropped her right arm to the ground and threw her weight onto it, shooting her legs upwards in a desperate one-two kick to stop Feng's relentless assault. It was an attack she had never attempted before, one she made up more out of desperation than anything else, but it worked better than she could have dreamed. Her feet slammed into Feng's unprotected chin explosively, not only breaking the flow of his attack but literally lifting him high enough into the air to crash into the ground a good few feet away. Xiaoyu rolled to her knees, panting and scrubbing desperately at her face to clear her eyes of the sweat and grime before he could recover and attack again. She almost cried with relief as the bell chimed instead, signalling the end of the second bout.
The announcer's voice sounded mildly surprised as the result was called. "Ling Xiaoyu wins. Fighters, take your positions."
Feng Wei looked only mildly scuffled by the encounter, but also seriously annoyed. Xiaoyu slowly approached him and fell into her guard, nervous and exhausted. How am I going to beat him? I can't throw anymore, even jumping hurts and he's so good… She was tired, and when the fight bell chimed, once again she was caught unprepared by Feng's charge. This time his right fist struck her over the head, and stars danced across her vision. He swooped forward with a large step, and then his left foot crashed into her shins, causing Xiaoyu to stumble forward. She didn't even see his other foot rising until it connected with her chest during her fall, changing her momentum and throwing her backwards. He ensured that she hit the ground soundly with his balled right fist, ramming it brutally into her temples once more.
Not good, she managed to think as she rose unsteadily to her feet despite the protest of her aching body. A faint gust of air washed over her and she looked up to see Feng spinning his upper torso around, building up his energy like a human tornado. Detachedly, she recognized the form and thought it was rather impressive that the large man managed to pull it off so smoothly. That's right, there was more to it than just being pretty, Xiaoyu remembered a moment too late as he unfurled his arms, striking her rapidly. She managed to raise her arms quickly enough to block a few of the devastating blows, but the force of the hit alone sank her to her knees. I'm going to lose, she thought, looking dazedly through her bangs at the man towering over her. Wobbling to her feet, she watched as Feng smoothly moved through another fluid set to end with his back facing her. And now he's going to hit me with his elbow and finish me off. I call that the Falcon's Beak, I wonder what he calls it.
Something niggled at her mind as he lunged towards her, something important. A flash of white caught her eye; it was one of Jin's feathers, still pure and white despite the ash and smoke in the air, probably the one that she had tucked away in her pocket, jarred loose by the brutal beating she was receiving during the course of the match. And she remembered what Jin had asked Hwoarang as they fought, his voice tortured, his face begging for release.
"So you'll kill me, then?"
"I won't lose," she cried, her attention snapping forward as she leapt forward and dive-rolled away from Feng's thrusting elbow strike. If I lose, Jin dies. I can't lose! I won't! Feng had not been expecting her quick dodge, and his head whipped around to follow her, his long queue snapping through the air.
"That's it!" she said, even as her body reacted, rushing forward for her attack. He's in my Rain Dance! He won't be able to block anything! Heedless of the pain or the danger, she threw herself violently into a frontal flip, reaching out with heel. The spinning kick connected with Feng's head, sending him reeling backwards. Xiaoyu didn't waste a moment, reaching out with both arms for a bayonet strike that stunned him momentarily. Smoothly, she lifted her hands overhead and brought them down with a ferocious chop on his temples. She used the downward momentum of the strike, leaning away from Feng and reaching out blindly with her leg backwards, satisfied when she felt it connect solidly. Unwilling to give him the chance to strike back, she dropped to the ground and swept the floor with her extended leg, throwing him off balance.
The pain lancing through her body grew with each blow she landed, but Xiaoyu knew she couldn't stop. To stop was to ensure loss. I have to keep going! she thought as she grit her teeth, accidentally biting on her tongue. The coppery tang of blood filled her mouth, and sweat and smoke fogged her vision. I can't see him anymore! she thought with panic.
"Carry your set through to its conclusion," she remembered Jinrei instructing her. "Your physical senses may fail you, but if you focus your mind, your body will know where to strike."
Entrusting herself to her memory, she continued her attack, crouching blindly into her phoenix stance and springing upwards with explosive force in a crane kick. Again, she felt the pressure of the hit as it connected with something, and with a last gasp, spread her arms wide and smashed her left palm out with all of the force she could muster. There was a grunt, and the sound of a body hitting the ground a few feet ahead of her. She threw herself into a forward roll and smashed her heel down, feeling it connect with a mass of hard muscle with a final loud cry, her eyes blind, her lungs burning for air and her body screaming in pain. "I can't," she sobbed out, gasping as she pitched forward, her arm cupping her side painfully. "I can't do it anymore!"
There was a silence in the air, filled only by the sound of the crackling flames of the nearby shrine. Xiaoyu panted and blinked anxiously, trying to clear her vision and waiting for Feng's next attack to ravage her, knowing she couldn't block it.
Instead, there was only a chime. It was weaker than ever, and sputtered out with a loud burst as another section of the temple collapsed. But not before she heard the sound of the announcer's voice, pouring like sweet water over her body.
"Ling Xiaoyu wins."
"I did it," she mumbled feebly, a smile forcing its way across her cracked lips. She blinked again, and saw a blob of white fluttering before her nose. Grabbing it, she drew it to her face and cradled it in her palm, tears of relief springing in her eyes. Blinking them away, she focused beyond the feather and saw Feng Wei slowly rise and approach her. He stopped at her feet, his clear eyes filled with mute shock. Xiaoyu managed to pull herself upright to her knees to meet him, but she couldn't muster enough energy to rise fully to her feet.
"How did you defeat me?" he asked incredulously, his hands curling into fists at his side. "My technique is obviously better than yours. I have trained for longer, defeated many masters all across China, and even those who have stood before me in this tournament. How is it that one little girl with almost no training has managed to defeat this Feng Wei?"
Xiaoyu dropped her head, hearing the pain and anger cracking the stoic man's voice. He scared her, and she didn't understand him or his motivations, but somehow, she recognized the great pride he was sacrificing to ask her a question to which she could find no reasonable answer. She closed her eyes and thought silently for a moment. He studied Chinese Kenpo, didn't he? Opening them again, she looked up at him, meeting his clear eyes, and answered in their native tongue.
"But should I be forced to defend myself, my principles or my honour; should it be a matter of life or death, of right or wrong; then here are my weapons," she said quietly, lifting her hands and opening them towards him. The feather stirred slightly in one palm, and she clutched it to her chest tightly before it could fly away.
The monk paused in contemplation, and then nodded as he accepted her poorly-phrased recital of the ancient Kenpo creed. It was the last thing Xiaoyu remembered seeing as darkness flitted across her vision and she fell over, too exhausted to remain conscious any longer.
AN: Please, please don't crucify me for all of the artistic liberties I take with martial arts and their philosophies in this chapter. While based loosely in some real world fact, I myself am not a martial artist. I claim no actual knowledge of these arts besides what I have read, and sincerely apologize if my use of them for dramatic intensity in the story offends any true practitioners. Also, Chinese names have literally a ton of meanings associated with them. "Ling" is just a surname, but I've seen it listed with meanings as varied as "little" "weak" "tinkling" and "jade." I chose to use the meaning "weak" in this story for a reason, though "jade" is probably the most common translation (which is funny, because as a stone, jade is actually stronger than steel).