Chapter 7
I woke early in the morning, well before sunrise. The night had passed peacefully, without any dreams — save for one irritating incident somewhere in the middle of it, when I was knocked off the bed and onto the dusty floor on the grounds that I was supposedly snoring loudly.
I was still deeply unhappy about that, and if I hadn't been so desperately tired at the time, I might have made a proper scene over it.
But there was nothing to be done. I wasn't going to treat anyone else the same way. Better to go find somewhere to wash up — there hadn't been time yesterday, and I disliked walking around dirty. I could also do with something to eat, since the last meal I'd had was midday the previous day, I thought with some displeasure. And I needed to locate something reasonably heavy to work with, because training wasn't going to stop just because I'd moved in somewhere new.
Rather than making my way through the ill-fated corridor like a bull through a china shop, I decided to climb out the window, which was large enough and covered with the same paper screen as everything else. I opened it and eased myself outside as quietly as I could manage. The floorboards in the room itself were considerably thicker than those in the corridor and didn't creak nearly as badly.
Having made it out successfully and breathing in the cool fresh mountain air, I began looking around the barracks for somewhere suitable to wash — ideally a bathhouse of some kind, which did actually exist in this world and era. After circling the grounds without finding anything, I was about to give up and wait for the others to wake, especially Viper, who was the only one willing to talk to me and could have pointed me in the right direction.
Then I caught a faint sound — the gentle murmur of running water somewhere nearby. I looked more carefully and found a stone path winding upward along the mountainside. Following it, I arrived at a small waterfall spilling directly from the rock face and filling a clear pool ringed with water bamboo.
*Guaranteed ice-cold mountain shower. I wouldn't be surprised if the Five come up here to meditate under the falls on a regular basis.* I smirked at the thought, stripped quickly, and stepped under the cold cascade.
While the mountain water worked on my body, I turned over the question of my future in this wonderful place. Yesterday I had made myself a firm promise: at least attempt to become a kung fu master and push through whatever sadistic training came my way. The problem was that I couldn't realistically learn anything useful if I kept being thrown directly into the torture chamber without any time to adjust to how training here actually worked.
The situation was further complicated by the relationships I'd walked into. The Five looked at me like I was something they'd stepped in, and their master's behavior raised its own concerns. As for Oogway — I barely knew anything about him, but given the student he'd produced in Shifu, even thinking about it was alarming.
*Making contact with them has to come first. Not just for the sake of a decent atmosphere — for my own safety. I remember very well how warmly Tigress welcomed me yesterday.*
I stood under the cold water a little longer, then climbed out, dressed unhurriedly, and noted that I'd need to find a towel and a spare set of clothes at some point — I couldn't be left standing around naked every time the first set went into the wash.
Starting back toward the barracks, I helped myself to a small stalk of bamboo growing near the path. I was making my way back at a leisurely pace, crunching through the stalk, when I nearly walked straight into Shifu, who was coming toward me with his characteristic smooth gait.
*What's he doing out here? Reveille isn't until sunrise, surely. Could I pretend to be on a call and walk past him without making eye contact? I'd just need to find a phone in this world first.* I thought this, knowing it wasn't going to help.
Without preamble or any greeting, he closed the distance and immediately delivered his news with what I could only describe as cheerful menace.
"Panda. It's commendable that you woke before the others — I didn't have to come find you. Today we begin your individual instruction. And we will start with a special training exercise that will test the strength of your body and your spirit," he said, with a slight smile and his hands folded behind his back.
"A special training exercise? What exactly does that mean? Are you sending me back into the torture chamber?" I asked carefully, the memory of yesterday's blow to sensitive territory still very much present.
"You'll find out soon enough," Shifu said in a tone I found deeply unpleasant.
I followed after him with a resigned sigh. He seemed to be in noticeably better spirits than yesterday — his manner was quite different. I wondered what had changed.
We went back down the mountain steps in the direction of the training hall, but to my relief we didn't go inside. Instead we stopped at the adjoining courtyard area. It held various stretching and exercise equipment that didn't particularly interest me. What my eyes went straight to were the familiar outdoor metal training fixtures — parallel bars, a pull-up bar, and a monkey bar traverse. I nearly couldn't contain my delight at the sight of them.
My good mood evaporated the moment Shifu began to explain in detail what my first training assignment would actually involve.
"You can't be serious. This is impossible. This is absurd. Just kill me instead! Send me back to the torture chamber like yesterday!" I said in what might generously be described as panic, staring at this man as though he were the Antichrist himself.
"No. The training hall is closed for repairs — which you are responsible for. And there is no avoiding this test. Every student of the Jade Palace has completed it, including all of my previous pupils," he announced gravely, and I felt the ground shift beneath me.
"How is that even conceivable? I can barely picture Monkey or Tigress doing it, but how on earth did Mantis, Crane, or Viper manage?" I asked Shifu, genuinely at a loss.
Shifu said nothing, watching my dismay with a smirk, holding in his hands two heavy chains fitted with elaborate clamps at each end.
"Well then, Panda. The time has come to train your nipples."
***
*Shifu — some time later.*
Shifu stood nearby, watching closely as the panda hung from the pull-up bar — not by his hands, but by the chains secured to his chest. For thirty minutes now. The weight of his body stretched the skin visibly, suspending him high above the ground. Despite the unbearable pain and suffering plainly written across his face, not a single request to stop had been uttered.
*Could it be that he's enjoying this?* The idiotic thought occurred to Shifu, and he eventually dismissed it.
The purpose of this test had been to determine whether the panda would follow even Shifu's most absurd instructions without question. Because even if the panda had no genuine interest in kung fu, Shifu might still be able to impart the necessary knowledge through teaching — provided he was willing to adjust his usual approach.
To sell the thing as a legitimate training exercise rather than something he had invented during a sleepless night, Shifu made regular circuits around his hanging student, periodically delivering remarks such as: *"Remember, Panda! Every part of the body must be strengthened — the nipples included! For it is entirely possible that one day they will save your life!"*
Shifu's expectation had been that the panda would last a minimum of thirty seconds, after which he would have grudgingly acknowledged the task completed.
The panda had exceeded all expectations by a significant margin, and Shifu had decided to leave him up longer out of sheer curiosity to see how long he could actually hold out.
Finally Shifu chose to end the experiment and ordered the panda to come down. The moment he heard the long-awaited command, the panda pulled himself up on one arm and with his other hand snapped the clamp fastenings with remarkable force, freeing his chest from its constraints.
Liberated from the chains, the panda massaged his aching chest, exhaled with undisguised relief, and groaned: "Thank every god that has ever existed that it's over."
"And so, my new student — you have successfully completed the entrance examination of the Jade Palace. Although you were named Dragon Warrior and already formally counted among its members, this test was necessary to gauge your endurance. We may now proceed to genuine training and instruction. Know only that the path to mastery of kung fu is not easy, and more demanding trials await you ahead—"
Shifu was delivering this in his most ceremonial register, intending to continue, but stopped abruptly. He had noticed the panda's reaction. The panda had gone rigid and was backing away with the wide eyes of someone experiencing genuine terror.
"Wait — that wasn't even part of the training?! And next time you're going to suspend me not by the nipples but by the— by what took the hit yesterday?!" the panda stammered, pointing at the equipment he had destroyed the previous evening.
Shifu cleared his throat and recognized that his new student had drawn the wrong conclusion. If the panda made a run for it right now, the morning's work would be entirely wasted, so he moved quickly to calm him.
"No. That was an entrance examination completed by every newcomer to the Jade Palace. It is not part of regular sessions," he declared with authority, privately hoping the panda would not discover this was a lie before too much time had passed.
*Twenty-four hours ago I would have been delighted to watch him run,* Shifu reflected, observing as the relief became visible in the panda's eyes — though a lingering wariness clearly remained.
"Let us begin properly, Panda. I will tell you about the fundamental philosophy of kung fu as it is practiced here at the Jade Palace," Shifu began.
"Are there other approaches?" the panda cut in immediately, with a look of surprise and unmistakable hope.
"Do not interrupt me, fool!" Shifu snapped, then reined himself in and continued in a level voice.
"Very well. I will start from the beginning. Judging by everything, you know essentially nothing about the art of kung fu," he said, with an irritated exhalation.
"Long ago — approximately nine hundred years past — the great Master Oogway was traveling, seeking to understand himself. One day, while sitting in deep meditation amid the silence and stillness of nature, he arrived at a profound truth about inner harmony and focus. The insight transformed his own understanding and reshaped the world around him." Shifu spoke with genuine feeling, slowly stroking his neatly braided beard.
"From that moment arose a unique martial art — kung fu. It became a symbol of the unity of the physical and the spiritual, joining the perfecting of the body with the elevation of the mind. Masters learned through training to achieve a state of inner harmony, to discover their own inner power, and to use it for the benefit of themselves and others."
He paused with deliberate weight and looked at the panda, noting with satisfaction the genuine interest in his expression.
Pleased that he had captured the panda's attention, he continued:
"Oogway believed that kung fu must serve good and harmony. He taught his students that true strength comes not from the ability to defeat enemies, but from faith in oneself. But as so often happens, not everyone understood the real meaning of kung fu. Some students, seduced by power, began using it for their own ends. They established schools and temples that taught not harmony but dominion and strength. These schools began distorting Oogway's teaching, bending it to fit their own purposes. Some of them even began using kung fu to commit evil."
He fell silent when the account was finished, sinking into sorrowful recollections of those who had lost their way.
A heavy quiet settled over them. It was broken by the panda's careful voice:
"So one could say there are three sides to kung fu — a light side, which helps others; a dark side, which uses strength for harm; and a third, somewhere in between, where a master helps those around him only in exchange for payment, or simply prefers to stay out of things entirely?"
He seemed to be attempting to put a shape to what he'd heard, and to break the somber atmosphere in the process.
"I'm glad there is at least some functioning intelligence in that head, and that you're capable of following the meaning of what I say. Now then—"
Shifu had been preparing to continue the lesson — intending to show the panda concretely that raw strength alone was no match for kung fu — when a servant came sprinting onto the training ground and burst in without ceremony.
"Master Shifu! A strange man with a ladle has forced his way into the Jade Palace and we cannot get him to leave. He's looking for his son by the name of Po," the servant reported, rubbing a bruised spot on his forehead that bore the faint impression of something reading *To My Beloved Father.*
Shifu went briefly still, uncertain who this son was supposed to be. A moment later, one glance at the panda's embarrassed expression answered the question. He exhaled deeply and gestured for the panda to follow the servant.
***
*Po — same time.*
While Shifu recounted the history of kung fu, I was quietly working at the sore spots on my chest and sincerely hoping that type of training would not become a regular feature.
Why did the local practitioners use such brutal methods when their philosophy said nothing whatsoever about pain and suffering? Were these monstrous techniques actually necessary to achieve their so-called harmony? And did other approaches to kung fu use entirely different methods? These questions were going around in my head while I listened.
Then Shifu's account was interrupted by the servant with urgent news, and I wasn't especially surprised. I knew my father's character very well, and a move like this was entirely in keeping with it.
What did catch me off guard was that he had apparently managed to get inside the Jade Palace with no great difficulty. *Where exactly is the security? I saw armed guards at the ceremony, but maybe they were only posted for the event itself. Not that it matters much now.*
I followed the servant — a small piglet in a blue robe — at a quick pace. The walk took only a few minutes, and there at the doors of the Jade Palace was my father in full form: agitated and wound up, waving his ladle at the servants trying to calm him down. The moment he spotted me, the whole of him transformed. Joy flooded over him, and he launched straight into an embrace, even if his arms could barely make it around my considerable midsection.
"Oh, Po, son, what have they done to you?! Have they been starving you? Have they beaten you? Are they mistreating you? Where does it hurt?" he began at speed, circling around me worriedly the moment he'd let go.
"Everything's fine, Dad. Nobody's beating anyone or starving anyone here. Nothing hurts," I said reassuringly.
Without having any idea what he was doing, my father had hit on every single relevant point with remarkable precision, I noted to myself with a kind of horrified amusement.
As if to register a strenuous formal objection to what I'd just said, my stomach chose that moment to produce a long and emphatic growl.
"Stop hiding the truth! I can see you're hungry," my father said, spinning around, and ran to a massive pot — roughly the same height as himself — filled to the brim with dumplings, dragging it toward me with considerable effort.
Watching him, I had a genuine moment of puzzlement. *That pot weighs more than he does. How did he get it all the way up here? There are a thousand steps.*
"I put together some dumplings quickly so you'd have something to eat," he announced, pushing the pot closer.
We talked for a long time, and I eventually managed to convince him — with some difficulty — to go back home, after promising that I would visit the moment I had any chance to do so. As it turned out, he had been planning to storm the Jade Palace the previous evening as well, but had been stopped by Tianjiang.
He suggested I leave the Valley of Peace altogether — relocate somewhere and open a new noodle shop, a better one than our old place. I explained that moving wouldn't solve anything, since by now half of China almost certainly knew about my appointment.
In the end my father wrapped me in a warm hug and flew off to open the noodle shop. And somehow the fact that he could fly had never once occurred to me, even though he was, of course, a bird.
A quiet cough sounded behind me. Shifu had been standing just around the corner, unnoticed, and had evidently heard the entire conversation.
"I see you need time for breakfast. You've wasted away completely, O Great Dragon Warrior," he said, with a small measure of mockery in it.
"Something to eat would be good, yes… Would you like a dumpling?" I offered, stomach still rumbling.
***
*Chorh-Gom Prison — Tai Lung.*
Tai Lung was an ocean of hatred and uncontainable thirst for revenge. Twenty years had passed — exactly twenty years — since the day he had been delivered to this cursed place, condemned to permanent imprisonment by the judgment of Shifu and Oogway. The new day had brought a messenger from the Jade Palace, though the purpose of his mission remained opaque.
Perhaps the messenger had come to verify that the prisoner sat quietly in his suffering, motionless and crushed.
Or perhaps the courier had been sent specifically to humiliate Tai Lung and push him toward rage. The warden had conveyed the news he despised: Oogway intended to pass the Golden Dragon Scroll to a new claimant for the title of Dragon Warrior.
The moment those words reached him, his blood came to a boil. That scroll was his by right. Only he was worthy of its power. By his own judgment, Tai Lung was the most gifted and formidable kung fu master to have lived in nine centuries. He had surpassed every known master, including that cowardly owl Fenghuang, hiding from Oogway somewhere out of fear. He had studied tens of thousands of ancient manuscripts holding the secrets of kung fu. He had cracked the secret behind the most dangerous technique ever devised by Master Honey Badger — the Accumulation of Yang Fury.
His fury deepened further when, after the messenger's departure, a small goose feather drifted down nearby and the wind carried it away before the swift movement of Tai Lung's tail could catch it. That feather might have been the key to freeing himself from his heavy shackles — and once again, it had slipped away from him.
He felt his release not as something impossible — only delayed. One day he would break free of this place and destroy everyone in his path, and he would claim the limitless power sealed within the Dragon Scroll.
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