A week passed since Feng and Liu met Miss Wenling. Liu still hated her, and Feng still missed home. Feng sat and meditated in the courtyard under the pink-flowered tree. Miss Wenling stood over him and watched—she already beat Liu up; the tiger slept in the corner with a bruise on her forehead. “You’ve made progress.” She said.

“Have I?” Feng asked.

“You have, I can feel it. You’re Ki has grown stronger.”

“Thank you.” Feng smiled.

“But how is your progress with Liu? Is your young romance going well?”

“What are you talking about? Me and Liu aren’t like that.”

“Don’t do that. I don’t like it when pretty people lie to me; it makes me want to believe them.”

“I’m not beautiful. I’m a simple and cute farmer’s son and I’m no liar. Oops, sorry, Miss Wenling, I’m sorry if I offended you, please don’t send us to die in the streets.”

“That’s good. You’ve gotten more comfortable here, haven’t you. I’m happy.”

“The food’s good.”

Miss Wenling laughed, and the sound of a tinkling river under autumn leaves flowed into Feng’s ears. “It is, isn’t it?” She said.

“It really is.” Feng said.

“You’ve been mediating for long enough. Why don’t you go into town with me? There’s somewhere I want to go, and you might find it interesting too.”

“Hmm,” Feng threw a glance at Liu, “Let me see what Liu has to say about it.”

“It’ll be fine. Let her rest. She’s trained hard today.” Did Feng not? Well, he did just sit all day. “I’ll ask Yuan to put her to bed. C’mon, Feng, get up and let’s get going.”

“I bet Liu’s going to be angry when she gets up, she doesn’t like being out of the loop.”

“That’s not our problem. I’ll make sure to buy a present for her, so she isn’t too sad.”

Feng shrugged his shoulders, got up, and followed miss Wenling wherever it was she wanted to go.

People coated the streets like bees to honey, the sun shone hard—so hard in fact, that a haze of heat covered the air—and a mountain range stretched behind the buildings, and people, and domes, and spires. “Miss Wenling, where are we going?” They had been walking for about ten minutes.

“To the arena. Where dreams are made, and romance is birthed or killed.” Miss Wenling said with a giant smile on her face, and the people that saw her smile stumbled.

“We’re going to watch people fight?”

“No, calling it fighting is like calling a kiss intertwined mouth breathing. It just misses all nuance and beauty. Understand, Feng?”

“Sure.” He didn’t.

“Good. Women love a smart man; I’m sure Liu does too.”

“I’m sure she does.” Feng didn’t want to argue with Miss Wenling anymore; it often led to him feeling embarrassed and defeated.

“That’s boring. Change that. Women hate boring men.” Miss Wenling huffed.

“Sorry.”

“But yes, at the base level, we will be watching a fight, a passionate and romantic fight. It’ll help you see how flexible Ki is, make sure to watch closely.”

“We should’ve brought Liu. She loves fighting.”

“And that’s why I don’t need to bring her. You’re the one that needs to see and learn how people fight. Liu will manage, she has good instincts. But you, you need help, and why not get entertained while you’re learning?”

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He guessed she was right, but he hated fighting. Why oh why did the world make him have to?

When they arrived at the arena—a work of stone that rivaled the size of a cliff face, the beauty of a spring waterfall, and the roundness of a rock—a large line waited ahead of them.

“Aren’t you excited!” Miss Wenling said as she got in line with Feng trailing behind her.

“Very.”

Men and women turned around as soon as they heard Miss Wenling’s voice and like always, they smiled and to Feng’s annoyance, they allowed the two of them to cut straight to the front of the line. He wanted to go back to the brothel—he wasn’t ready to call it home yet. But people sucked and let pretty women cut ahead of them.

“What good people.” Miss Wenling said.

“Very.”

Inside of the arena, a large dirt field stretched in the middle and walls surrounded it. Gates embed themselves into the walls and atop it all, the seats began. The seats ran in a circle like a sash, and each circle had another, larger version of itself above it until the top of the arena ran out of space. People talked while sitting or talked as they searched for an open spot. Feng and Miss Wenling belonged in the second group. They weren’t in it for long, Miss Wenling’s beauty assured that—people were more than happy to give up their seats.

“Excited?” Miss Wenling asked.

“Very.” Feng said.

“Hmm. I get the feeling you aren’t.”

“But I am.” Feng showed her the smile of a liar.

“Cheeky boy.” Miss Wenling said.

The event began. The crowd cheered, Miss Wenling cheered, and Feng stared at the sky. He wondered how the clouds would taste in this city.

“How are we all doing today!?” A loud voice echoed throughout the arena.

“He’s using Ki to amplify his voice.” Miss Wenling said to Feng.

Feng nodded.

“So, what path do you think you would need to train to do something like that?” Miss Wenling asked.

“Body, I guess.” Feng said.

“Good. Good. Make sure to pay attention during the fights; I’ll be asking questions and if you get them wrong, you’re going to join Liu’s training regimen.” Miss Wenling rubbed Feng’s hair and she showed off a pretty smile as she spoke ugly words.

“I said, how are you all doing today!?” The unknown announcer said. The crowd screamed. “Good. That’s more like it.” The center of the field began to collapse within itself, and within the forming hole, a shape began to emerge and grow. First, a face, then a torso, then legs, the features belonged to a man. The man exited from the hole by the efforts of a rising stone pillar. He climbed until he—who was wearing a mask—met the eyes of the audience. He bowed, “good day to you all.”

“Wow, they got him to announce. I guess the event’s bigger than I thought.” Miss Wenling said.

“Who is he?” Feng asked. The man was lean, had brown hair that looked unkept but purposefully so, red irises that shone under his mask, a handsome face, and a bright smile. He looked oily, not in the physical sense, but in the character. He looked like he could scam a tiger out of its stripes.

“He’s a legend in the arena. The greatest champion the Golden Colosseum has ever known. He’s retired now.”

“Huh, good for him.” Feng said.

“And for us. If he’s here, it means we’ve got a good event ahead of us. Aren’t you happy that I brought you out today?” She rubbed Feng’s head.

“Let me explain today’s event.” The champion’s voice sounded like his appearance, handsome but carrying the slick of a conman. “There will be five battle royals over the next five days, men and women of the crowd, feel free to join in.” People cheered, some hollered. “There is no sign up, simply jump into the ring. Of course, we have fighters prepared, so don’t expect to fight the people in the crowd only, but that only goes out to you weak and cowardly ones, I know the strong and brave won’t care. And do not worry about death, you brave ones who dare to test yourselves. We members of the Golden Colosseum will stop all fights before such a thing can occur. Simply have fun beating your opponents near to death.” The crowd screamed out their excitement and Feng plugged his ears with his fingers. “Now, come on in, you sons of bitches!” Despite the cheering of thousands, only a hundred rushed down and jumped the wall. “Only a hundred? I didn’t know there were so many cowards here today.” Jeers and boos rained down. “Kidding, you are all warriors, and if you ever decide to test your warrior spirit, you have five days to do it. You heard that right, five straight days of fighting. If you ever get bored, feel free to come down and pummel someone. But you all didn’t come here to hear me talk all day; you came here to see blood, isn’t that right? Well, be prepared to see plenty of it!” The crowd’s excitement deafened Feng.

“Blood! Blood! Blood!” The crowd cheered.

“Then let’s get to it!” The announcer said. The gates on the walls opened and muscular men and knife wielding women charged out of them. The event of bloodshed began.

Beams of light, walls of ice, hurricanes of fire, and cascades of rock destroyed the battlefield. Screams and grunts echoed out, and contestants dropped, and the large crowd of fighters became a small gathering. Once there were seven left, the event ended. “Wasn’t that great?” Miss Wenling asked. A bright smile plastered her face.

“Uhm… yeah? I didn’t really know what was going on.” Feng said.

“How? It was a fight, what could be simpler than that?”

“I guess so. But their moves… I didn’t know a single thing they were doing.”

“Well, of course, you’re not on their level. Not yet at least. But you’ll get there eventually, don’t worry about it. This mistress Wenling will make sure of it.”

Feng nodded and ended the conversation there. He had no desire to ‘get there eventually’; no desire to even start, but it was what it was.

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Liu awoke in her bed. She wondered how she got there; the last thing she remembered was Wenling landing a punch on her forehead. Liu squeezed her hands; she was too weak. At her current pace, how could she bring her and Feng home?

A knock on the door brought Liu back to the real world. “Liu, it’s me, how are you doing?” Feng’s voice said on the other side of the door.

“What do you want?” Liu said.

“Checking in on a friend. Why, can I not do that?”

“Whatever.” Liu said and opened the door. Feng stood there with a casual smile and sleepy eyes. That was the thing about her friend; he was soft, a crybaby, and someone a normal person wouldn’t want to put their trust in, but at the same time, he was calm and free. He contradicted himself like an easy wind in a hurricane.

“Do I have something on my face?” Feng asked.

Liu blushed—only a little. “Shut up! Hurry up and come inside if you want to talk.”

“Sure, sure.” Feng said and he entered Liu’s room.

They sat at Liu’s dining table, candles painted the air orange, and a window showed a glimpse of the night sky.

“What did you want to talk about?” Liu asked.

“Nothing. Like I said, I just wanted to check in on you. You were hit pretty hard earlier.” Feng said.

“I don’t need you to do that.”

“Okay, whatever you say, Miss. But other than checking in on a little tiger, I did want to bring something up to you.”

“Little tiger?”

“That’s not the important part.” Liu was about to say something, “and before you complain, let me finish what I have to say. Miss Wenling took me out today.”

That locked Liu in, what did that scandalous woman show Feng—nothing good, she bet.

“She took me to a tournament.”

“And? What’s that matter?”

“It wasn’t like the tournaments back home, it’s a fighting tournament.”

“A fighting tournament?” In Hilltop Village, tournaments consisted of fishing, hunting, anything really—there was even a competition to see who could harvest the most wheat—but never fighting; farmers couldn’t risk being hurt, they had farms to tend to.

“Yep, I don’t care about it, but I know you might.”

“How do I join?”

“You just jump in. But are you sure about joining? They looked strong.”

Perfect. There was no better teacher than combat. “I’m sure.”