Thea had no idea that Malcolm had reopened his "private combat school" and even told a huge lie to cover his injury. She was, at that moment, steadily hiking up a mountain path.
The "long-haired black-haired beauty" really knew how to pick a spot—this training ground was even more remote than her father's forest. It had taken her an hour of wandering just to find it. Good thing she'd woken up early; otherwise, she'd be late for her first lesson.
The scenery was stunning: dense greenery, the distant murmur of a stream—pure mountain serenity. For Star City, a place nearly ruined by Queen Consolidated's heavy industry, this was a miracle of nature. It must have taken Lady Shiva some effort to find it.
Compared to her father's dark, brooding forest, this was paradise. Guess I've passed my "entrance exam" and moved on to the next level, she thought with amusement. So this is what they call "graduating from primary to junior school."
She extended her senses to their limit and soon located her new teacher standing a short distance away, back turned. Shiva stood motionless, hands clasped behind her, her long black hair rippling like a silk banner in the mountain breeze. The sight was so striking that even Thea—another woman—felt momentarily entranced.
Then she nearly tripped when Shiva suddenly recited, in oddly accented Mandarin,
"'The white sun sets behind the mountain…'"
Plop. Thea almost missed a step. Really? Of all the lines—you pick that one? With this perfect scenery, she could've gone with something elegant like "Mist veils the pond and the willows," but instead she'd chosen a poem every elementary-school kid knew. Congratulations, you just destroyed your cool, mysterious aura, Miss Killer Goddess.
Thea sighed and automatically replied in Chinese, "'The Yellow River flows into the sea.'"
Shiva turned, startled. "Oh? You speak Chinese? Impressive, little Thea!" Her tone suddenly warmed; it was like watching a wanderer hearing her native tongue after years abroad.
Thea resisted the urge to show off with a tongue-twister. She straightened up, face serious—let's skip the small talk and get to the lesson, please.
Her composure clearly pleased Shiva. "Calm, modest, unflustered under praise… an interesting girl indeed."
"Since fate brought us together as teacher and student, you deserve to know a little about me," Shiva said. "You speak Chinese—that's excellent. I was born in China. My Chinese name is Sandra Wu-San. 'Shiva' is a title given to me in India."
Thea almost choked. That's your "Chinese name"? Who signed off on that? Somebody at the local police registry deserves a pay cut. She decided to ignore the "Sandra" part. Better just call her Lady Shiva. It rolls off the tongue—and hey, we're both 'Xi' generation anyway.
Unaware of Thea's internal commentary, Shiva continued calmly. "I watched your battle last night. You fought with intellect and courage—defeating a stronger opponent through strategy. But you've only begun to touch your potential. Do you know where your greatest advantage lies?"
Six months ago Thea would've drawn a blank. Now she answered without hesitation, "My perception. But I feel I've already pushed it as far as I can. Please instruct me, teacher."
"Good," Shiva nodded. "Awareness of one's own strengths and weaknesses places you above ninety percent of people. I admire that." She smiled—a small, cold smile that looked more like a knife glinting in sunlight.
"Perception," she continued, "is something everyone has—more or less. In nature, animals sense earthquakes and eruptions long before they happen. That instinct is perception. But humans, surrounded by noise and distraction, have dulled their senses. Only by returning to nature can one rediscover this gift."
Thea nodded. Malcolm had said something similar before, though perhaps he was quoting Ra's al Ghul. His focus had been returning to the self; Shiva emphasized returning to nature. Two martial masters, two philosophies—different paths to the same end.
Neither was absolutely right, but compared with Ra's's creed of "seeking enlightenment through bloodshed," Shiva's approach felt far more suitable for her.
"Today, we won't practice combat," Shiva said. "I want you to take the first step—to feel nature. Come, stand where I stood."
Thea obeyed, stepping into the spot her teacher had occupied. The first thing she noticed was the wind—it was strong. If this gust picks up, I'm going to roll right down into the valley. I only weigh a hundred pounds!
"Close your eyes. Listen to the wind." Shiva wrapped a strip of cloth gently over Thea's eyes.
The sound of wind? Losing her sight instantly threw Thea off balance. For a moment she stood in darkness, disoriented, before realizing—ah, the training's already begun.
She listened intently. "South wind, maybe level three, peaking at four. Anything else… birds, but I can't tell what kind."
"Not bad," Shiva said. "You truly have talent. I divide sensory training into four stages:
Stage one: Hear the Wind.
Stage two: Discern the Birds.
Stage three: Detect the Insects.
Stage four: Sense the Pulse of Life itself.
Now—sit down. We begin the third stage. Remove your clothing."
Thea froze. Excuse me—what? Remove her clothes? Was this some kind of evil-sect practice? Scenes from martial-arts dramas flashed through her mind—Yang Guo and Xiao Longnü meditating among flowers, the random appearance of an uninvited monk…
"Don't just stand there—hurry up," Shiva said impatiently.
To hell with it. She's a woman anyway. Thea shivered, awkwardly pulling off her jacket.
"You're awfully shy. Are Westerners always this prudish? I thought you people were supposed to be open-minded," Shiva teased, genuinely curious.
"That's prejudice! Westerners can be modest too—it's personality, not geography!" Thea retorted, unable to hold back. And for the record, there are some very un-modest Asians out there.
For the first time, Shiva's icy mask cracked into a laugh. "Fine, fine—personality it is. Relax, I didn't tell you to take off your underwear."
What?! Thea yanked her jacket back on. Couldn't you have led with that, you sadist? This woman might look like a goddess of death, but underneath she was clearly a first-rate troll. Suddenly, Thea missed her father's gloomy forest classes—dark and dirty, yes, but at least morally straightforward. This place smelled of flowers and fresh air, but it was a trap for sanity.
The accidental comedy broke the tension, replacing it with a strange sense of ease between teacher and student.
Shiva, still smiling faintly, sat on a nearby stump and observed from a distance.
Thea shivered as a chill wind brushed her bare arms. Without her coat, her skin prickled; the cool air overrode every other sense, flooding her brain with one message—cold, cold, cold. Birdsong, wind, insects—all faded beneath it.