(Day 103)

  Pengfei searched for a new sparring partner among the crowd. With Nanxi and the twins in the valley below, tending to the horses, he had fewer of his regulars to choose from. And Chen Rulan constantly urged the disciple to choose different opponents with each match, experience their different approaches to combat. The elder watched him from the side of the training ground even now.

  He caught the eye of Jin Andong, eldest and nominal head of the Jin disciples. They both nodded their acknowledgement and without any further prompting, stood across from one another to wait for the next round.

  “Begin!” Chen Rulan shouted.

  Andong darted in lightly to deliver a few quick punches, then hopped back out of range of possible counters. Pengfei defended successfully but did not throw any attacks of his own. He used the deeper stances of the ‘Arhat Fist’, trying to confirm an insight that had grown within him during the weeks following his fight with the Tibetan lamas.

  The head of the Jin disciples came again. He moved with the speed of one who had reached a high level of skill in the sect’s qinggong. But Pengfei could see each blow coming and parried accordingly. Despite the skill of his defense, he could not find an opening to attack his opponent. Or rather, could not move quickly enough to capitalize on the openings he saw.

  The match ended with an unsatisfying lack of contact but Pengfei had let that disappointment slide before he reached Chen Rulan.

  “So?” the elder asked.

  “It feels like what I said last night. The ‘Arhat Fist’ is not a good match for Kunlun’s style.”

  “More.”

  Pengfei tried to vocalize what he was feeling on an instinctual level. “The fight in Hotan… they were aggressive, constantly coming forward. I didn’t have to pursue as much to land my own attacks. Just wait for them to come to me.”

  “And Kunlun’s style?”

  “In and out too fast. The low stances of the ‘Arhat Fist’ give more power… but I can’t actually land my strikes before my opponents are back out of range.”

  Chen Rulan bobbed his head in agreement. “Then, what’s your conclusion?”

  “Different styles for different opponents?”

  “Too complicated. What about people who only learn a single style? What do they do when they meet a difficult opponent?

  Before Pengfei could find the answer, Chen Rulan shooed him away, back into the disciples searching about for their next partner. Back into the fray.

  --Too complicated? Then what’s the simple version?--

  As the others paired off around him, an opponent presented himself via the process of elimination. The only other unpaired disciple left nearby. Pengfei recognized the face but struggled to recall the name.

  “Greetings, brother…”

  “Jin Baizu,” the other supplied.

  “Greetings, Brother Baizu. Please teach me.”

  They made their salutes and began circling when Elder Rulan shouted again. Baizu was shorter than Pengfei, but not by much. And faster. Not as quick on his feet as Shutian or Andong, but still capable of hopping in and out of range of the ‘Arhat Fist’.

  Pengfei blocked each attack as it came, searching for his chance. Each time, a beat too slow. He yearned to change his approach, to use Kunlun’s ‘Heaven Shaking Fist’ and match his opponent’s speed and mobility.

  Instead, he searched for another way. He considered Chen Rulan’s question.

  --How would a disciple of Shaolin handle this? They would know more techniques, but the base would be the same. ‘To know the Arhat Fist is to know all the 72 martial arts of Shaolin’--

  Another flurry. Blocked, parried. Another counterattack missed.

  --Underneath the technique… how do you catch a faster opponent when you’re planted like this?--

  Pengfei defended again, then attacked again.

  --How…? Ah!--

  Something clicked in his mind.

  --Defend. Attack. Defend AND attack.--

  It was a principle present throughout all the styles Pengfei had seen thus far. To some extent or another. He had even used it before, under different guises. Attack and defense in the same moment.

  At the most basic level, a block executed at the same time as a counter. One arm defends the other attacks.

  You could even dispense with the block, using movement as defense. Sliding beneath an opponent’s blow to strike at the opening it created. As Pengfei had done against Chodak.

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  But there was yet another level, where even that little extraneous movement was stripped away. Sensing an opponent’s assault as it formed, throwing an attack of one’s own in anticipation, to stem that violent tide. The interrupting blow prevented and inflicted damage at the same time. Simultaneous attack and defense at its most elegant. And its most difficult.

  Pengfei knew intellectually he had stumbled upon the answer, but there was still a gap between that knowledge and its application. He examined Baizu’s movements and watched for the moment the next strike would come. The moment he could meet his incoming opponent with a strike of his own.

  The moment came and went. Pengfei didn’t perceive any telltale signs, didn’t register any motion until Baizu was already upon him. He managed to defend but not to respond.

  It took a few more passes for Pengfei to begin picking up on the subtle clues that preceded Baizu’s attacks. A squeeze of the fist, a twitch in the shoulder. When he saw the tensing in the legs that hinted at the use of qinggong, Pengfei struck.

  A single step forward with a straight punch. Baizu’s eyes went wide in surprise as his target approached faster than expected, distance and timing thrown off.

  Pengfei’s attack missed in the end, but so did Baizu’s, as the disciple threw himself awkwardly to the side to avoid the unexpected blow. Before the two could contest each other again, the match was over.

  “They’re all yours, Elder Weidao!” Chen Rulan called, turning over command of the group to the swordsman. When Pengfei approached, Rulan said more quietly, “Good.”

  Pengfei accepted the elder’s acknowledgement of the match. “So, that was the answer? Attacking when the opponent comes in?”

  “I suppose.” The elder spoke vaguely and escorted Pengfei as the disciple made his way with the others to the weapon racks. The students made room for the pair or glanced at them as they walked by.

  “So, if I was a Shaolin disciple, confined to using their martial arts… I would aim for the simultaneous strike.”

  “More general than that. Not the specific tactic or technique.”

  Pengfei stopped in place and thought as the others flowed around them, looking for the right words.

  “I was always half a beat behind … until I attacked on the same beat with… no, that’s it! The timing!”

  Chen Rulan smiled at the disciple. “Timing, distance, tempo. These are some of the broader ideas in martial arts. Behind the techniques. They’re present in every style, in different proportions. If you could master these three concepts, you could rule the world with just the straight punch.”

  The disciple swept over what he considered hyperbole and tested his understanding. “So, in Kunlun we use our qinggong to manage the distance and control the fight. And in Shaolin they use their defense and timing, wait for the opportunity to land a blow…right?”

  Pengfei tittered with self-satisfaction. He felt he had discovered the ‘perspectives’ that Chen Rulan had mentioned months ago, when they first began the transcription of the ‘Arhat Fist’. The elder’s response deflated him.

  “Sometimes.”

  “Sometimes!? What do you mean?”

  The other disciples had grabbed the wooden swords off the racks and made their ways back to the training area. Chen Rulan and Pengfei chatted in their own world as clacks and shouts filled the air.

  The old man chided his over-eager pupil.

  “Did you think you had figured out all the hidden truths of martial arts?”

  “Well – “ Pengfei began sheepishly, only to be silenced by a raised hand.

  “What you said was more right than wrong. But it’s never that simple.”

  “Ughh.”

  Pengfei picked up the training weapon in front of him and turned to join the rest of the Jin generation, still turning over the small insight he had gained into the methods of the fist. Just one of many that would inevitably spring up in a lifetime pursuing the martial arts. He paused when another question worked its way to the forefront.

  “But those are just the physical concepts. What about the differences between Kunlun and Shaolin’s qi?”

  Elder Rulan was already walking away. He waved over his shoulder. “Later. Go practice your sword!”

  “That’s our cue.” Neng said from Pengfei’s side. He was the only other boy not already occupied with the jian.

  “Hey! Didn’t see you there.”

  “Want to practice?”

  “Sure. Let’s do it.”

  The two of them found a bit of open space on the paving stones of the training yard and stood across from each other with their practice weapons raised.

  Chen Weidao called out the next drill just in time. “Thrust and parry!”

  Pengfei lunged, the most basic stroke of the ‘Swift Dragon Lightning Sword’. Neng received the attack, reset his feet, then made a lunge of his own. They circled each other, going back and forth with the same attack each time. An attempt at conversation between the repetitions.

  “Anything – hah! Anything interesting happen while I was gone?”

  Neng shook his head. “Nothing compared to what you guys got up to in town.”

  “Yeah, had a great time.” Pengfei said sarcastically, then thrust again. “Hah! So… no trouble with anyone?”

  “Not that I remember.”

  “Are you sure? You know, you can tell me if there’s anything –“

  Neng paused, straightened up, and gave his partner a serious stare. “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing, I just – “

  “Will you cut it out? You’ve been playing around too much lately. You need to take your training seriously.”

  Pengfei balked at that. He forgot the concern for Neng, the rumors he had heard. It slipped out of his mind at the sudden slight.

  “What are you talking about? I AM taking my training seriously.”

  “No, you’ve just been wasting your time with Elder Rulan. He’s obviously just been showing you barehanded techniques, your jian has barely improved at all. And even if he was teaching you the sword, he’d be about the worst teacher you could find for it.”

  “Whoa, man. Where is this coming from?”

  “We’re a sect of swordsmen. Soon, our lives will depend on how well we wield it. You of all people should know that.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You know what it means.”

  Pengfei stiffened, dumbstruck. Before he could think of what to say, Chen Weidao was calling for a change of partners. Neng moved first, lost in the crowd without another word.

  --What the fuck just happened?--

  ******************************************************************************

  (Day 105)

  “I don’t understand it.” Chen Ji spoke as he leapt nimbly from one boulder to the next. “You’ve been practicing, haven’t you?”

  “Yes… sir.”

  “You’re not just saying that?”

  “Huhh…. Huhh… no, sir.”

  “Then I don’t understand it.”

  The rest of the Discipline Hall had left them behind long ago. Another mountain path. More qinggong training. The elder had remained at the rear to encourage the last disciple. Or beat him. Depending on the mood. But today, the man’s demeanor was more quizzical than punitive.

  “How is your progress with the sect’s neigong method?”

  Pengfei could no longer talk and run at the same time. He took the elder’s question as an opportunity to stop for a breath and hunched over, panting heavily. After a second, he composed himself enough to look up and answer.

  “Elder Chen Lei says I’ve learned the ‘Mystical Heaven Infinite Skill’ to the fourth star. Whatever that means.”

  Chen Ji gave a ‘harrumph’, then stepped closer, placing a hand on Pengfei’s back. There was a jolt as the head of the Discipline Hall sent a flow of energy coursing through the boy, inspecting the state of his meridians and lower dantian. The man stepped away a moment later, more confused than before.

  “It’s not the amount of internal energy. Your technique is adequate. It seems like you’re just… slow.”

  Pengfei nodded, still leaning over and breathing hard. “I can do all the movements… leap as far as anyone else. And if I take my time… my stamina is fine. The problem is trying to keep up with their pace.”

  “What about in sparring? Your punches, kicks?”

  “They’re normal. Maybe a bit faster than average even.”

  “Huh. Well, some people just run slow. I guess you won’t be chasing down any fugitives in the near future.”

  --That’s what Horse is for.--

  Pengfei recalled jumping from his mare’s back to tackle the fleeing Shutian, on the night the boy had fled from the sect.

  “Time should solve the issue. Cultivate enough energy and even you will be able to keep a respectable pace. But in the short term, you could try another qinggong method. Find a better fit. Has Chen Rulan mentioned anything about teaching you the ‘Mountain King Step’?”

  “Other than the ‘Mountain King’ part, it doesn’t sound familiar.”

  “Yes… named after the beast. Used to be more popular in the sect. Now, only a few elders remember it. Chen Rulan, obviously. Though, he’s been strange about passing on his martial arts ever since the Jin generation arrived here. Ah, I’m sure your master has his reasons.”

  “He’s not – “ the boy began. He was about to say ‘he’s not my master’. It was the truth. Chen Rulan had made it clear he was not accepting Pengfei as a true disciple. It wouldn’t be rude to correct Elder Ji on that point. But for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to do it. “… Anyway, does this mean I can be excused from the regular qinggong training?”

  Chen Ji turned sharp, suddenly glaring. “I can’t believe you would even dare to ask that.”

  --There he is.--

  Pengfei began sprinting up the path, dredging his already-depleted stores of energy to power his steps. The elder took the scabbard from his waist and gave chase.