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 Hsulor
was
losing the fight and knew it. He knew it from the start, really,
but kept fighting.
He aimed a butterfly kick at the head, and the old man across from
him easily dodged and countered with a kick to the abdomen. Hsulor
backed away, but the
old one charged, performing his own swift combination of kicks that knocked
Hsulor’s
legs out, throwing him hard to the ground.
“ Hand fighting, now,” Master Wang-ti said, his hands clasped behind
his back as he waited for his student.
Hsulor nodded, brushed off the dust, and took a stance. They circled, and Hsulor
watched the old one carefully.
He looked for any sign of what style the master
would use. Just before the old one struck, Hsulor recognized the form of Chin-na
and accommodated.
The Master flew in with both hands aimed toward the heart, and Hsulor countered
with a side sweep, knocking his hands aside. Hsulor intended a hard counter,
but the Master flowed with the motion, striking Hsulor on the side. The young
one tried to follow, but his Master stayed too far ahead of him.
Hsulor was getting angry and backed off. The Master advanced on him and kept
pressing. Their hands were a blur as they went through a complex series of blocks
and counters.
The old man took in a soft breath of air. Hsulor gasped raggedly, the fight
for breath angering him even more. The Master didn’t even exert himself.
It was effortless for the old one, as always.
Wang-ti backed off. After a moment, Hsulor pounced on him with a pre-planned
series of feints and strikes. He thrust with Serpent’s Strike, followed
with Eagle Talon. Just like that, Hsulor was on the defensive as Wang-ti followed
his pattern, turned it against him, and countered with Bee Sting, paralyzing
Hsulor from the shoulder down for a few seconds.
Hsulor backed away, sweating and panting hard. He rubbed his arm and tried to
get the thousand-pins feeling to fade.
Master Wang-ti, calm and unmoving, said, “I see your pattern each time,
young one. Your zi flow is erratic. You must regain it; breathe it during the
fight. It must be soft and flowing, like a brook. I will give you a moment,
and we will begin again. Open combat this time. No breaks.”
Hsulor nodded and closed his eyes. He breathed deeply, slowed his sense of
time. He’d done this thousands of times over the years, and he felt energy
flow through him. Looking inside, Hsulor saw himself as a being of energy,
and directed
that energy, letting zi flow through him. His breathing slowed and a calm settled
over him.
Hsulor opened his eyes, and the world disappeared except for his opponent,
his field of vision tightly focused. The Master bowed, Hsulor returning the
gesture
deeper, as rank demanded, maintaining the older one’s gaze. They advanced.
Hsulor ran and spun in a complete arc, Wang-ti catching the kick and moving
with Hsulor’s leg in his hands.
Hsulor went with it, and caught himself from
hitting the ground with his hands. He pushed hard, forcing his feet into the
old man’s chest. The Master expected it and twisted, landing Hsulor hard
on his face.
The hard blow triggered something in Hsulor, and all flow of zi disappeared,
replaced by pure animal adrenaline. Now he was mad. He dislodged one leg and
swept it out and back, catching his Master on the chin, knocking him back.
Hsulor flipped over, bleeding from a cut on his forehead. Enough of this. Enough
with the Shingai way, patterns and order and one-style fighting.
He didn’t think, just ran and fought, using different arts. One second
he swung in the style of Shorin-Ryu, that of soft-block, hard-counter, the next
it was back to Chin-na, trapping a roundhouse kick. Wang-ti flew in with Gung
Fu, and Hsulor didn’t bother to match, switching every second to something
new, sometimes in mid-strike. Ancient Aikido, Aang-chi, Karabe, scoring blow
after blow.
The Master breathed hard, trying to keep up.
Hsulor became even more angry, at the fight and himself. This wasn’t
how they did things, all crazy moves and different styles. Shingai were to
follow
a pattern. They chose a style and created harmony out of the disorder of combat.
This was a mess.
Hsulor couldn’t help but see its effect. There was a pattern underneath
it all, vague but noticeable.
Wang-ti tried to counter the strategy, in pure defense, but he was failing.
Hsulor had the advantage. The old one narrowly stopped a blow to the head,
and Hsulor
knocked his legs from under him. He fell hard. In an instant,
Hsulor was on
top of him. His fist flew down, stopping an inch from of the Master’s
nose. It would have been a killing blow.
This fight was over. It was Hsulor’s first victory.
Master Wang-ti, Sixth Kan of the Order of the Shingai, Keeper of the Sword
Ryu, panted from the exertion of the contest, stared at his young charge, and
whispered, “Wonderful.”
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