“VICTOR: XJ-V OF THE ETERNAL DRAGON!”
He really was getting tired of hearing that man’s voice…
But you’ll be traveling with him if you win, will you not? Arha was fond of reminding him. Arha thinks you should be getting used to the noisy Planeswalker.
“Yes,” he said as he limped back to the Dragon entrants’ quarters. “Curse the intelligence of Hulis…whenever will mankind match them?”
His initial plan when he returned to the Dragon quarters was to immerse himself in another attempt to enter the Dao and gain enough Qi to advance to the next rank. Already he could feel his deficiencies in the wake of Mah-Jung;s display. The only advantage he had right now was time – Mah-Jung could not continue his own training while he was here, lest he outpace the Temperer Rank and thus be forfeit from the tournament.
He must know that, the Cog mused. That display, almost slaying Kai…and the way he looked at me…Feng was right. It was more than just proof of his power. It was a challenge. A challenge from the man who told me the Dao would make me its prisoner…
Another part of his mind longed to look back into his past and see the conclusion of his Creator’s story. Even now, all he had were just pieces of the puzzle. He knew his purpose. He knew the legacy left to him, and the daunting years that surely lay ahead. But he still could not see the moment of his escape from Hensha clearly.
Something moved within the Dao – a presence that pulled a thin veil over his vision and stopped him from witnessing what he needed to. And he needed to – that much was certain. He needed to see exactly what the High Eagle did to that place. He needed to see if there was any chance he could…
The thought ran from him the moment it formed, for his limbs were still aching from the recent melee. He was ready to flop down on his mattress and call it a day when he heard the sounds of frantic fists pounding one of the training dummies adjacent to the sleeping quarters. Curious, XJ-V focused his sensors, deducing from the rapid yet calculated movements of the punches, and the precision of the kicks, that it could only be one man hard at work today.
“Well,” he whispered to himself. “I suppose it is time for my emotional support function to kick in. I am half God, after all.”
He chuckled to himself, feeling the soul in his chest stir lightly at the quip. His last fight had been more of a challenge than he had anticipated – but it had been a straightforward bout. A battle of wits and brawn where no emotion was involved. The Brother he’d faced down had been of the Eternal Dragon – a boy called Lee-Sung who, admittedly, was more than capable of matching the Cog’s Flaming Dervish and Dragon Tooth strikes blow for blow. Endurance had been what had let him down, in the end. The boy had yielded happily even when he knew he still had strength in him. It seemed he was prouder to have fought the ‘legendary’ Cog himself in the tourney. Winning had meant nothing to him at all.
But there are three people it does mean something for…
He rounded the corner to find his Brother hard at work on the training dummy. XJ-V doubted he had even spared the time to watch his fight. That told him just how fixated his mind had become in the last twenty-four hours.
“You will be pleased to know your techniques are taking hold in this place,” XJ-V said loudly as his Brother sent another Dervish flying. “The young man I just faced had a mastery of the Dervish that could only be attributed to you, Feng. I’ve even seen some of the younger Disciples practicing what they call the ‘Rocket-boots of Feng.’
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
His Brother smiled back at him thinly, wiping beads of sweat from his sopping forehead.
“You…you were fighting,” he said. “Heh. Of course. I…I’m sorry. I forgot you had your next duel today.”
The Cog came to rest on a small stool beside his winded Brother. “You apologize too much, Feng.”
“Maybe,” the boy replied. “Maybe I just want to keep in the good graces of the Disciple that will win this tournament. Maybe then my name will be remembered in this world.”
“Feng,” XJ-V began, stopping his Brother’s next punch before it landed on the already cracked face of his target dummy. “Do you not remember what we talked about just last week atop the old library? I began my training with you. I will continue my training with you.”
Feng smarted, drawing his Cog Brother’s hand away and kicking at a loose piece of tile.
“All my life,” he murmured. “I’ve only had myself to worry about. The only pressure on me has come from me. Me and – well – you know – my need to live up to my mother’s expectations. I never knew my father. I never knew what he saw from me or if he even wanted me. I don’t know, Brother, is that a good enough reason to be a Planeswalker? Is that a good enough reason to face Mah-Jung? Would the Dao even allow me to triumph just because I want to be something, finally? Is that really enough to – hey!”
XJ-V had thrown himself into a battle stance and aimed a glancing strike at Feng’s forehead. Thinking fast, the young Dragon had ducked and sidestepped the attack, watching as the Cog shattered the splintered dummy to pieces and came at him again, locked on his torso.
“Wh- what are you –“
“You’re in your own head, Feng-Lung!” XJ-V laughed. “One of the best lessons I ever learned here was this: if you’ve got time to worry, then you’ve got time to fight!”
Their fists met in the next instant – two dragons with their horns locked in combat - smirks creeping across both their faces.
“’Reasons’ are for philosophers,” the Cog told his friend. “Warriors face their woes head-on, and they show the world their worth.”
“I think our Tiger friend has gotten to you,” Feng chuckled as he assumed a tight Silubu.
“He is far too mellow lately,” XJ-V grinned back. “Someone has to bring the fury of the Cultivators to the Eternal Dragon. Now, come Feng-Lung. Come and face the legendary Cog Cultivator!”
Through laughs and jibes, they spent the rest of the day training as they used to. They even picked up a few spectators themselves as their Kata became more and more fluid, almost dance-like. Later, that’s exactly what those who spared a moment (or even an hour) of their day to watch them would say – that there, in the bowls of the ancient colosseum of Aun’El – two Cultivators of the Dragon sparred for what both of them knew could be the last time.
And both men knew that this was the reason neither of them wished to stop.
…
“Is he here?”
Master Longhua’s voice rang out in the darkness of the shadow-shaded pavilion. Once again, the Master had decided it was time for some respite from the ‘festivities’ below.
But he had also decided he had another duty he needed to conduct. One that Master Yoma-Dur had decided to join him in administering.
“He’s here,” the Pkaneswalker replied, looking with curiosity at the two old men sitting, statue-like, beside each other. His curiosity had bee piqued by the fact that this competition kept unveiling just as many mysteries as it seemed to obscure. And it looked like the two old geezers were getting closer to uncovering something here.
“Send him in,” Yoma-Dur commanded.
Ori’un would have answered with some quippy remark if he wasn’t so interested in the proceedings. The fact the Masters were asking him to step outside while they conducted this little ‘meeting’ they’d had him set up was more curious, still.
Then again, he could use a little leg-stretch. He was admittedly getting tired of just being an observer. It had never been his forte.
He smiled at his own ironic thought before looking down at the Cultivator he’d brought up here with him.
“You’re on,” he said as he walked off, letting the Disciple bow graciously as he entered the den of the ancients alone.
“You wished to see me?” Mah-Jung asked.
***
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