Chapter 6
The little house they put me in was quite decent — stone walls, a new tiled roof, and a sturdy wooden door reinforced with iron or steel. Honestly, I had no idea which; my years as a mechanic had involved rather different materials.
Mei — the headman's wife — blushed slightly and offered to let me stay with them if the house wasn't to my liking. The suggestion carried a fairly transparent implication, which I politely declined. I asked her to have food prepared as soon as possible, then retreated inside and stretched out on the bed.
Why didn't I take advantage of a hero's welcome? Nothing strange about it. Those who walk the path of kung fu place the spiritual above the physical — which in plain terms means that for me, as for many others, purely physical intimacy holds little appeal without genuine feeling behind it. Love, respect, admiration — without those, the whole exercise felt pointless. We weren't monks, and it wasn't as though nothing would happen, but why bother when you feel nothing for the other person?
So, like any sensible solitary creature, I settled into a lotus position and meditated.
I had been thinking about the fight from the film — specifically, how Tai Lung's Chi-enhanced strikes had done essentially nothing to Po. I wanted to understand whether the problem was something in me or something particular about that panda.
I spent the remainder of the day submerged in meditation, tracing the pulse of Chi moving through my veins. Toward evening, there was a knock at the door.
"Come in," I said, without opening my eyes, still feeling out the flow of energy. Nothing seemed wrong on its face — an extraordinarily powerful current of blue energy moved through my body at tremendous speed, ready to burst free at any moment. Either Po was genuinely special in some way, or… Could fat actually block Chi? I'd never fought a particularly heavy opponent before, so the theory would need testing.
"Master," the horned girl said, stepping inside with a bow. "I apologize for troubling you again…" She hesitated.
"Get to the point." I opened my eyes, which made her flinch. My eyes were unsettling even under ordinary circumstances — the eyes of a real predator — and when I was actively working with Chi they turned vivid blue and became even more distinctly inhuman.
"One of the hunters spotted what looked like an avalanche coming off Solitude Peak, but when we looked closer, it appeared to be someone running toward the village at tremendous speed."
"Which one is that?" I got to my feet. Everything about the mountains around that prison had the most relentlessly bleak names. I would bet anything the Wise and Benevolent Tortoise had named half of them himself.
"The farthest from the village and the tallest of the peaks. According to legend, a grief-stricken prince of the old dynasty ended his days there, having lost both his loved one and his claim to the throne…"
"Fascinating," I said, managing not to press my palm to my face. "But you'd do better gathering everyone into one place. Whoever this is moves like a master, so if they're connected to that iron-toothed jackal, the village is in danger."
What was his name again? Silver Tooth? No, he wasn't a silver anything. Doesn't matter.
"Yes, Master, but if it's an envoy from the city lord, I should be with you to avoid any misunderstanding," the horned woman said, with a composed firmness that I had to admit was reasonable.
Fair enough. There was still the question of why a kung fu master would announce themselves this loudly. I hadn't — I'd come through the forest like a sensible person. Why run in full view of the entire valley? To frighten away bandits, maybe. I supposed that was possible.
"Let's go," I said, noticing that an organized cluster of villagers was already filing toward what looked like a solid stone granary. Apparently they hadn't needed my advice for that. Good.
Passing beyond the village, I spotted the disturbance — a vortex of disturbed air moving fast toward us. Someone was running hard, and whoever it was had exceptional control over their Chi. Considerably better than mine, in fact; otherwise the trail of displaced air would have been much larger.
In his time Tai Lung had developed Chi to a decent but foundational level — primarily using it to enhance his own body and execute a handful of techniques. Twenty years in prison had deepened his control considerably, but without the ability to actually practice combat applications, his range of technique had stagnated. Compared to a certain tortoise, he was clearly outmatched in this art — but I had always assumed that aside from the tortoise, I was essentially without peer. Apparently China was larger than that assumption.
Something to work on. And not only because of the panda.
A minute later, the person who had been running toward us arrived.
She dropped from an extraordinary height — fifty meters or more — and landed in a textbook superhero crouch, one knee on the ground. She rose from it with an elegance I grudgingly acknowledged was genuinely impressive.
"My name is Xue Xia," the girl announced, lifting her head. "I've come in response to the village elder's request for assistance." Her eyes moved between me and Mei. "Where are the bandits?"
A snow leopard, by the smell of her — same as me. The name fit: *Xue Xia* could mean "snow wind" or "snow and boldness," depending on how you read it. From what I'd seen in the last thirty seconds, either translation seemed accurate.
Noting that I was simply standing in silence and studying her, Mei stepped forward and bowed to the newcomer.
"Honored Mistress Xue Xia!" Her voice trembled with mingled relief and nerves. "We are so grateful you answered my husband's call. But…" She made an awkward gesture in my direction. "This master has already saved us. He dealt with the bandits just today."
Xue Xia's gaze shifted to me and became thoughtful. I was clearly being assessed. Her bright blue eyes moved over me from head to foot — the worn trousers, the muscular torso, the traces of dried blood I hadn't entirely washed off, and probably the residual Chi aura still flickering from my meditation.
"My husband! Chen!" Mei suddenly seized Xue Xia's sleeve, her composure dissolving in an instant. "Did you see him? Is he… is he alive?"
"He is alive and well," Xue Xia replied calmly. "Chen is on his way here now. We met in the city of Wei-Jin — when the city lord refused him, he found me instead, told me what had happened, and I decided to help. I imagine he'll arrive by morning, perhaps a little later. When I heard how serious the situation was, I came ahead to assess the threat and assist." She paused. "I'm glad it's already been resolved."
Mei burst into tears — from relief this time, clearly — pressing her hand over her mouth.
"Please, Mistress, stay the night!" Mei immediately turned to hospitality. "The tavern—" she caught herself, remembering the state of the tavern — "we'll find you the finest available house."
"The tavern will do," Xue Xia said, still not taking her eyes off me. "Thank you for the welcome."
Mei, galvanized, turned back toward the village. The understanding that her husband was alive and the village was safe seemed to hit her all at once.
"He's alive!" Her voice broke, but she said it louder, with tears streaming down her face. "Chen is alive! We're saved!"
A second of silence followed. Then the village burst open.
An old man with a grey beard let out a hoarse cry of joy. Others joined him. Women who had been weeping quietly from fear were now weeping from happiness, embracing each other. The men who had been holding pitchforks and hatchets lowered their improvised weapons, and someone laughed — a full, booming laugh that carried across the square.
"Tonight we celebrate!" Mei cried. "Bring out everything you hid from the jackals!"
The village, which had been dead and grey until an hour ago, erupted into life.
As the person most responsible for all of it, I was naturally invited with considerable ceremony. The celebration organized itself around the square in minutes — firewood was dragged to the center, and within moments a great, roaring bonfire shot toward the sky, illuminating the grim faces around it. For the first time, I saw smiles on them, lit by firelight.
The fear in their eyes had become gratitude — with a small lingering wariness. They laughed, but still gave me a slightly wider berth than they gave each other. Children, growing bold, started chasing one another across the square — a sound this village had apparently not heard in some time. A drum appeared from somewhere inside a house, and someone began beating out a simple, cheerful rhythm.
And then the food arrived.
Twenty years. Twenty years I had rotted in that prison without a decent piece of meat.
I was handed a wooden bowl heaped with roasted flesh, and judging by the smell it was venison — the hunters had apparently gone out after all. These grateful villagers had gone to the trouble for their rescuer. Steam rose from it, and the smell—
The smell hit me like a wall, and I nearly lost my mind.
I grabbed a piece with my bare hands and bit into it, eating fast.
It was slightly tough. A little oversalted. But the moment I tore into it, my entire world detonated.
The juice. The fat. The salt. The taste. My receptors, dormant for two decades, screamed with pure ecstasy.
I growled without any self-consciousness, tearing off chunks, feeling the meat filling a stomach that had been empty for twenty years. The crowd around me was laughing and shouting, someone was proposing a toast to "the honored master," but none of it registered. There was only the food.
I went through several more bowls, and then Mei appeared, beaming, carrying a dish of dumplings.
"It's all we could put together quickly, Master…"
I dropped one into my mouth. Hot dough, savory broth inside, juicy filling.
I closed my eyes and sat there with a deeply satisfied, slightly idiotic smile.
Someone brought me a cup of rice wine. Cloudy, slightly sour. More of a homebrew than anything that deserved the word wine.
*Not particularly refined*, thought whatever part of me fancied itself a connoisseur. *But acceptable*, answered my stomach. I drained it in one swallow. Warmth spread through my chest.
I was reaching for a piece of roasted goat — they had gone ahead and slaughtered the promised goat for the celebration — when the snow leopard came and sat across from me. She had found somewhere to wash and change into clean traveling clothes. She held a cup of tea.
"I looked through the tavern," she said quietly. I nodded without stopping chewing. "You killed all of them. Every single one."
"They were bandits," I said, swallowing, and shrugged.
She frowned.
"Master…" She chose her words carefully. "I understand the necessity of action, but… unnecessary bloodshed… a massacre… it isn't befitting of one who walks the path of kung fu. A true master must show restraint."
I stopped chewing.
And there it was. The sermon I had been waiting for. Kung fu teaching, unlike many purely religious traditions, didn't say killing was terrible — only that killing without purpose or meaning was unworthy. Masters who followed this path did kill, when there was no other way to stop a criminal. But her words irritated me, because they reminded me of something Oogway might have said. My smile disappeared.
"'Unworthy'?" I repeated, and my voice went cold. "Their leader had already killed masters."
Xue Xia fell silent. The certainty in her expression faltered. Killing a master was a different order of crime entirely — one almost nobody dared attempt.
"He… killed masters?" she said, almost to herself.
"By his own account it was a hobby," I confirmed. "Don't judge me by the method. Judge me by the outcome."
She nodded slowly, lowering her gaze to her cup.
"Then… I apologize for what I said," she said quietly. "You rid the world of a great evil." She stood and bowed. "Thank you for saving these people, Master. I'll wait here for Elder Chen. When he arrives in the morning, I'll be on my way."
She turned and walked toward the tavern, leaving me alone with my meat.
Well. She was beautiful, certainly, and my own kind besides — but I had more pressing things to attend to. And there was something vaguely familiar about her that I couldn't quite place. No. Nothing came to me.
***
*Master Snow Leopard's POV*
The unfamiliar master I had encountered felt vaguely familiar — as though I had seen him somewhere before — but no matter how I searched my memory, too many faces surfaced at once and nothing concrete emerged.
When I first entered the tavern, it was like stepping onto a battlefield after the fighting had ended. Jackal men torn apart, pieces of them scattered across the room. A revolting sight — and I had seen such things many times before, which didn't make the picture any more pleasant. I understood that killing was sometimes unavoidable, but this level of violence seemed excessive.
This strange master kept raising questions I had no answers to.
Chen's wife showed me to a clean room upstairs, told me the tavern floor would be cleared soon, and gently asked me to try to understand the honored master's somewhat extreme methods, as he had saved all of them. Then she said goodbye, invited me to the celebration, and left.
*Who are you?*
I set down my bag, meditated briefly to settle my thoughts, and went downstairs. The bodies had indeed been removed. A few scattered pieces remained here and there, but a cheerful old man nodded at me and was already collecting those.
Coming outside, I heard the voices of the villagers — I'd heard them from upstairs, but the walls had muffled everything. Now I could finally see the people properly: dozens of horned men and women eating, drinking, laughing, their faces full of genuine joy. My resolve to firmly lecture the overly violent master began to soften at the sight of it.
Still, the conversation was worth having. If I could help him avoid sliding further down a bloody path, I had to try.
The snow leopard sat slightly apart from the crowd, watching the large bonfire, eating meat with evident contentment and occasionally tossing dumplings into his mouth. That strange, satisfied smile of his undermined my composure again — eating ordinary food, he seemed so genuinely happy that the entire world around him had ceased to exist. Nothing but the food mattered.
I picked up a cup of tea on the way and walked over.
"I looked through the tavern," I said quietly, sitting down beside him. The snow leopard only nodded and went on eating. "You killed all of them. Every single one."
A silence followed.
"They were bandits," he said at last.
Killing was a last resort — when nothing else remained. And judging by the composure this master carried and the sense of danger that radiated from him, I was fairly certain the situation could have been resolved without so much blood. That was what I tried to explain.
"Master…" I said, with a quiet sigh. "I understand the need to protect people, but… unnecessary bloodshed… a massacre… it isn't befitting of one who walks the path of kung fu. A true master must show restraint."
It was what Oogway had taught me, during my time with the Furious Five, and even after living through war I had held onto that teaching. There is no need to take a life when imprisonment is possible.
"'Unworthy'?" the leopard replied after a long pause, his voice cold. "Their leader had already killed masters."
Everything stopped. Had I underestimated these bandits? If they were truly capable of that—
"He… killed masters?" I said, mostly to myself.
One thing to resolve a situation without bloodshed when you can. But if the opponent is strong enough that risking your own life merely to capture rather than kill them would be foolish — that was a different matter entirely.
The life of a kung fu master was worth considerably more than the life of a bandit. The leopard had apparently faced a genuinely dangerous opponent and been left with no other choice.
"By his own account it was a hobby," the snow leopard confirmed. "Don't judge me by the method. Judge me by the outcome."
I nodded slowly, and looked down at my cup.
"Then… I apologize for what I said," I said quietly. "You rid the world of a great evil." I stood and bowed. "Thank you for saving these people, Master. I'll wait here for Elder Chen. When he arrives in the morning, I'll leave."