Black Dragon, Black Cat

by Brian Edwards

  Before Bengui could speak again, Mao walked to the center of the match ring and raised her hands for silence. As the crowd grew still, she shouted up at the royal stage, “By my authority! I am the one who has brought her here!”

  A gasp of surprise swept through the crowd and over the royal party. The ruler and all members of the audience turned toward Hei Mao, each with an incredulous look upon his face. Bengui shouted back at her, “Surely you are aware of our rules and traditions. Why have you allowed this violation to occur? By what right do you commit this sacrilege?”

  Mao looked down upon Qianpeng, who looked back into her eyes. The old woman immediately knew what Mao would do next. During Mao’s first match, the old woman had recognized the black garments that she had taken from Mao’s pack to dry during her illness. She had been present for all of Mao’s previous matches, watching them nervously from the back of the crowd. Until today, her presence had gone undetected, but she had pressed her luck too far by trying to move closer to the stage, and it had run out.

  As their eyes met, Qianpeng shook her head and pleaded with her eyes for Mao to remain silent, but the anger in Hei Mao was too great to silence. She began to unwind the black swath that circled her head. “By this right!”, she shouted up at the stage. She unwound the mask completely and threw it down on the arena floor. Then she pulled the ties from her hair, and shook her head to let her long black hair cascade over her shoulders. “I claim my right to fight the final match as a woman!”

  A deathly and profound silence choked the breath from the stadium. The audience was utterly dumbfounded, and stared up at the stage in amazement and disbelief. Many of them shook their heads as if to dispel nightmarish visions that had crept into their minds and then took a second look. Others stared around at their neighbors, as if fishing for a suitable reaction to the incredulous situation. The royal entourage appeared completely stunned, and looked back and forth at each other as if a ghost had appeared in their midst. Bai Chen’s eyes grew wide, and his fingers tightened around the arms of his chair.

  Qianpeng was immediately forgotten, as there was now clearly a much larger problem to confront. After an eternity had elapsed, the crowd slowly began to regain its collective consciousness. First one person began to hurl obscenities at Hei Mao, and then another, and another, until the entire crowd was screaming for her blood. They shouted toward the royal party to cancel the match and drag the woman out of the stadium. Many in the audience screamed for her to be beaten or thrown into jail, and some threw refuse at her as she stood motionless in the center of the ring.

  Throughout this, Mao remained stolid and stoic, staring up at the royal podium. Her indignation and resolve was so great that she was beyond any feelings of fear or doubt, and did not care what vulgarities were being hurled at her. If she were to become a martyr, then she would do it proudly.

  Grand Master Bai Chen was the only person in the stadium who had remained seated up to this time. He slowly raised himself out of his seat, and hobbled with his stick to the front of the royal platform. He raised his hand for quiet, and after several moments a wave of silence swept from the stage throughout the arena. He paused for several heartbeats before he began speaking. He looked directly into Mao’s eyes, and for a moment he sensed a long-forgotten presence. He felt that he had looked into those eyes before, but could not recall the occasion.

  “My fellow beings,” he began to speak at length, but his normally whispery voice was now clearly audible throughout the deadly silent arena. “The Great Buddha has brought to us this day a new revelation. There stands before us now a spectacle that those not with us would scarcely believe to be possible. But it is not our place to refuse to believe what our eyes behold, nor to dispute what has happened up until this point. Every person, every creature, and every object in this universe has its own destiny. Everything happens for a reason, as fate leaves nothing to chance.” Bai Chen paused for a moment as his consciousness appeared to flow backward in time to another time of his life. Then his mind seemed to clear and he resumed speaking. “This woman has advanced in the tournament to the final round, and will be allowed to compete in the championship match.”

  A collective gasp of disbelief erupted from the crowd. How could this be possible? This woman would be allowed to fight in the final tournament match? The members of the crowd looked at each other with the expressions of those whose core of beliefs was trembling at its foundation. They turned to the ruler of Xiaomei for reassurance; surely he would not let this event continue!

  Bengui was shaken as much as anyone within the crowd, but knew that he must gather himself to deal with this crisis. He turned to Bai Chen, and pleaded, “Oh, Great Master, for so many years you have inspired us with your wisdom, dedication, and humility. Why do you forsake our customs and traditions, our very core of beliefs that guide our lives? What good can there be in allowing this woman to compete?”

  “I have forsaken nothing,” Bai Chen replied. “I have not brought this woman to this place and time; her destiny has brought her here. Up until this instant, her entire life has been directed toward this moment in time. Who am I to interfere with her destiny?”

  “But Grand Master Bai Chen,” the ruler implored, waving one hand in the direction of Mao. “How can this continue? How can Xie-feng fight a woman? It is dishonorable to do so. All of our beliefs and customs dictate this.”

  Grand Master Bai Chen opened his hand in the direction of Xei-feng. “Then let us leave the decision to Master Xie-feng. What say you, Xie-feng? Do you agree to fight this woman?”

  Xie-feng turned from the royal platform to look at Hei Mao as she stood defiantly at the center of the ring. “It would be an honor to compete against her, Grand Master Bai Chen!”, he replied without hesitation. “What dishonor can there be in fighting a woman who has already bested every man she has faced?”

  “So be it!”, declared Bai Chen, and then went back to his seat. The ruler waved at his royal entourage to resume their seats. The audience stared around at each other, unsure as to how to respond. After a few moments, some began tentatively to cheer again, and this sentiment spread rapidly until the whole stadium was trembling from the reverberations. Qianpeng melted back into the crowd, unnoticed, and took a place near the back wall of the arena from which she could watch the upcoming match.

  Much frantic activity ensued. All wagers were being renegotiated in light of this new circumstance, and the odds of Hei Mao winning were greatly diminished, as it was inconceivable that a woman could beat Master Xie-feng. Those in the audience who had previously supported her now turned against her, not wishing to see a woman win the tournament. They wanted, and indeed even needed, Xie-feng to win the match to restore stability to their teetering foundation of beliefs.

  A full fifteen minutes had elapsed before some semblance of order had returned to the arena. During this period, Mao and Xie-feng prepared themselves mentally for the upcoming battle by meditating in cross-legged positions. Each knew that the other would be a fierce competitor, and would test his physical and mental abilities to the utmost. Many images from the past ran through Mao’s mind, although she repeatedly tried to clear it. Eventually she gave up her attempts to dispel these images, and instead embraced them as a means to raise her spirit for the upcoming exertion. If she could feed off of these raw emotions, perhaps she could draw strength from the energy they inspired within her. She became eager to begin the match, and was relieved that she would not have to fight under the black mask again.

  Soon the referee climbed to the match platform, and the crowd became immediately hushed. The usual preliminaries passed between him and the two contestants, and then he left the stage with Xie-feng and Hei Mao facing each other at the center of the ring. Xie-feng bowed to Mao, and said, “I wish you good chance in our contest, black warrior. May our contest be glorious and unforgettable.” Mao returned the bow, but could think of no appropriate words to say and remained silent.

  In this way, the championship battle h
ad begun! The first twenty minutes saw no attacks, only stances and postures, both offensive and defensive, as each combatant tried to read and understand the style of the other. The Zhaojin style of kung fu was somewhat familiar to Mao from her experience sparring with Master Chung Jun, but the unique style of Hei Mao was unknown to everyone, except Grand Master Bai Chen. To most of the audience, the stances and postures assumed by the two opponents appeared exactly the same, but to Hei Mao and Xie-feng they were very dissimilar. Only very subtle differences were apparent, but it was critical that each competitor understand the possible actions and reactions that could be produced from each stance or movement. Several series of feinting movements were performed by each competitor to test the opponent’s reactions and defensive tactics, but no serious attacks were launched during this period.

  Grand Master Bai Chen inched forward to the edge of his chair as he fully realized for the first time that the style of kung fu that Mao performed was eerily similar to that of his old nemesis, Black Dragon. Could this be an apparition from his younger days? He could not make sense of what his eyes beheld, as he had never before seen anyone assume these stances other than the great Hei Lang, who had not been seen for six decades. He shook his head and watched the match closely, searching carefully for more evidence of the unusual and strange techniques of Black Dragon.

  After gauging each other’s reactions, the second preliminary stage of the match began, where each opponent would make a serious, yet safe, attack upon the other. The purpose of this was to test the opponent’s reflexes and defenses using safe techniques that would not expose the attacker to a surprise counterattack. These attacks had little chance of success, but were merely designed to learn more about the style of defense used by the opponent. The competitors battled back and forth across the ring for many minutes in this fashion, each one searching for clues to weaknesses in the other’s defenses.

  At length the two competitors began to familiarize themselves with their opponents’ styles of combat, and the attacks became stronger and more ferocious with each pass and counter-pass across the ring. Each strike, block, and counterstrike became quicker and harder until the maximum level of intensity had been attained. The fighters began to sweat beneath the summer sun from their exertions, and an hour slipped by rapidly as the two battled back and forth across the ring. The crowd would cheer wildly whenever Xie-feng would press an advantage, and hiss when Hei Mao would take the initiative.

  Two hours into the match, both opponents were beginning to feel weary, but neither one had been able to penetrate sufficiently the other’s defenses to gain a significant advantage. Both were wearing purple bruises on their forearms and shins from blocking the impact of the kicks and punches from the opponent. At one point, Mao had mistimed the last of a series of blocks and sustained a minor cut on her lower lip, which bled profusely for several minutes. There was a roar of approval from the crowd. Her ribs began to bother her significantly, and her fierce strikes and counterstrikes brought more pain to her from the heavy physical exertion. She remained emotionless, however, and she betrayed no sign of injury. Nevertheless, she knew that she must try to end the match as soon as possible, or any lucky shot to her right side would seriously reinjure her rib fracture and force an end to the match.

  During the next several series of strikes and counterstrikes, Mao devised a risky strategy to attempt to end the match, but it would require flawless execution and timing. She had by now become familiarized with her opponent’s style and techniques of attack. She knew that if she attacked him from a right-forward angle he would feint a quick strike with his left hand, then circle back counterclockwise with a spinning hook kick aimed directly at her head. This would then be followed by several more spinning kicks that varied from one series to another; but the opening movements were always the same.

  Mao set herself defensively in a stance that would leave her in the right-forward position once she had successfully countered his next likely attack. Xie-feng attacked as soon as Mao took a defensive stance, delivering several fist strikes and kicks designed to propel her backward to the rear of the platform. However, midway through this flurry of strikes, Mao’s position struck exactly the right stance where she could interrupt his series of movements and strike backward to stall his progress forward.

  At this point, she was in the right-forward position, and she waited for Xie-feng’s response. She had made the correct supposition: Xie-feng struck outward with the back of his fist toward her head as a distraction, followed immediately by a counterclockwise rotation leading into a spinning hook kick. This was the opportunity that Mao was seeking. As he began his spin, she dropped to the ground and rolled under his left leg as it arched off the ground. As his back turned toward her, she twisted around to sweep his right leg off of the floor. As Xie-feng came crashing downward, Mao rolled sideways under his falling body, effectively log-rolling him over so that he fell heavily on his shoulders. Continuing her roll, she grabbed both of his legs by the shins and stood up, suspending Xie-feng upside down with his head on the ring floor. From this position, it was an easy drop to the ground to obtain a cross-legged knee lock, designed to break the opponent’s knee.

  Mao flipped Xie-feng onto his stomach, and then dropped her body on him with both of her legs wrapped tightly around his right leg. This position allowed her to apply massive leverage to his knee, with enough force to shatter the delicate joint area. She grabbed his right ankle and pulled back forcefully, yet carefully enough to avoid an instantaneous shattering of bone.

  Xie-feng felt the pressure build in his kneecap, but was powerless to break the grip of Mao’s legs and arms. His teeth began to clinch and a grimace of pain swept across his features, but he would not yield. Mao applied more pressure, up to the very point where she knew the joint would surrender, but still Xie-feng would not yield even though the joint lock was causing him unmanageable pain.

  Mao lifted her head to look at Xie-feng’s face, and she could read in it that he would not surrender until forced to do so; but she had made the decision long ago that she would not cause a serious injury to her opponent unless absolutely necessary. Releasing some of the pressure on his right leg, she allowed him to bend his left leg over her head and lever her over onto her side and off of his body. They both rolled to their feet, and backed away from each other for several seconds before resuming their battle.

  Another hour passed as the two combatants attacked, counterattacked, parried, and dodged. Each series of movements wearied them further, until both were showing telltale signs of severe overexertion and dehydration. The attacks began to slow down, and each competitor was well aware of the possibility of physical exhaustion leading to mental mistakes. Mao knew that she must maintain her acute concentration, even in the face of physical exhaustion, lest she fall into a trap laid by her opponent.

  The attacks and counterattacks eventually became slow and methodical. Xie-feng performed the same attacking movements over and over again five or six times in sequence, in which he would begin with a series of forward hand strikes to the head, followed by mid-air switching front kicks with one leg and then the other, followed by a spinning straight-legged kick which he would plant afterwards and immediately swing back around in a high arching motion toward Mao’s head. Mao performed the same simple blocking procedures each time as she moved backward to parry his attack, and then launch forward with a counterattack containing a combination of movements that she would vary each time. Xie-feng would block these as he moved backward, and then counter again with the same series of movements as the time before. Mao suspected that he had reached a point of exhaustion where he was performing a series of easy techniques that he was comfortable with so that he could buy himself time to recuperate to some degree from the physical exertion of some of his previous, much more complicated, movements.

  Back and forth they moved across the ring in this fashion for almost ten minutes. After Mao’s latest advance, Xie-feng launched back into his same series of
movements, with a flurry of forward hand strikes, followed by two swift switch frontal kicks, and then by a spinning straight-legged kick which he planted on the floor. Mao easily blocked these movements for what seemed like the hundredth time. She prepared to block the high arching kick that she expected to follow. This time, however, Xie-feng continued his spinning motion until he again faced Mao and delivered a powerful sidekick straight into the right side of her torso.

  Mao had fallen into Xie-feng’s trap! He had lulled her to sleep performing the same series of strikes over and over again until she had lost concentration from her physical and mental exhaustion. She flew backward from the impact and was propelled out of the ring. By instinct, she began to roll backward and up into a crouching position, but she was too close to the edge of the stage and only managed to roll herself off the platform to land on the arena floor, a full body length below, on her back. She landed with a heavy thud, and felt the impact run all the way up her spine to her neck. “How could I be so stupid?”, she thought to herself for the brief moment that she lay supine on the ground.

  The crowd roared its approval and suspected that the match was finished. As quickly as possible, Mao stood up from the ground and attempted to climb back onto the platform, lest the referee end the match at that point. As she levered herself onto the platform with her chest, she felt the sharp pain of the pressure on her right rib fracture, and a grimace lit her face as she let out a gasp of pain. Immediately, she realized that she had made a second mistake: she had revealed an injury to her opponent, and she knew that he would work to exploit it as soon as possible.

  Xie-feng stood in the center of the ring, and waited for Mao to regain her composure before attacking her. She turned her left side to face him, knowing that he would position himself to attack her from the right side of her body to take advantage of her weakness. Xie-feng came forward, and Mao braced herself to meet his attack. He executed a series of complicated techniques as she parried backward, but each of his attacks came to her left side, not her right. Again she attacked back, trying to execute movements that would not affect her aching ribcage. Xie-feng would counterstrike with increasingly complicated techniques, but always attacking Mao’s left side.