“I must meditate for an hour first. I urge you do the same.”
Jacko bowed and thanked him again. When they were finished meditating, Teacher Ma led his student around to talk further.
“Jacko, by the time we are finished training your skill in the Three Finger technique will improve drastically, and the knowledge gained in the blocking technique will be more than adequate enough to help you defend yourself against multiple opponents. Train hard and the rewards will always be there. Are you ready to learn?” Jacko nodded in acknowledgement. “Good, we’ll start off by discussing the philosophy behind the technique. I also want you to understand that even though the blocking technique is relatively boring, it serves as the base for which all other techniques are mastered.”
During the next four hours, Teacher Ma talked in great detail about the technique. He explained when to use a particular block against certain attacks, how to countermove after an opponent strikes, and what makes one defensive maneuver more efficient over the other ones. Jacko listened intently to every word, taking notes on a small piece of parchment. He was surprised how everything started making sense. After the session was through, Jacko gathered wood while Teacher Ma, an excellent trapper, caught and killed two rabbits.
A cool breezed ushered in nightfall as both men enjoyed the warmth of the fire and perfectly cooked food. Jacko wanted to learn more about Teacher Ma, and in an unusual way, felt closer to him like he was some sort of father figure.
“Teacher?” he began. “How long have you been in the Order?”
“Let me ask you something first. How much history do you know about our Order?”
“I’m afraid not much.”
Teacher Ma knew by his answer and expression that he was embarrassed. “Before we go any further, I’d like to give you a brief history lesson first. Our Order was originally called the Order of the Open Palm, and dates back some three hundred and fifty years. Three childhood friends started it: Master Tung, Master Somon, and Master Guil. They grew up poor, so they wanted to develop a fighting style that didn’t require weapons or armor, but only hands and feet. The three masters prospered over the next fifty years and our school began growing in numbers, so much that some of the other Orders became jealous. One Order, in particular, challenged our school to a tournament to see who was better.”
“What was the Order’s name?”
“They called themselves the Order of the Falchion.”
“I’ve never heard of them.”
“There’s a reason why, and I’ll get to that later. The masters accepted their challenge because they felt it was a good opportunity to build interest in our art and gain more students. The rules were simple: Six students from each school would fight each other until one of the students gave up. Armor was banned, and only wooden weapons were allowed. The contest took place a few weeks later with several other schools in attendance, and when it was over, our school won four of the six fights, declaring us the winner. More importantly, no one was seriously hurt. Thinking they got cheated somehow, the Order of the Falchion decided to pay us an unannounced visit two weeks afterward. Ten fully armored men showed up at our school demanding a contest. This time with real weapons. Masters Tung and Guil tried to discourage them, but they didn’t want to hear what they had to say and attacked. When the fight was over, only two of the armored knights escaped and their version of what happened would set in motion a chain of events that changed our school forever.
“Angered by the death of their students and the lie, their men said the Order of the Falchion held an audience with several other Orders and told them how our school attacked their men and murdered them unfairly. The Orders banned together and demanded we disband and stop practicing our art, or else face the consequences. Our masters refused and three months later our monastery was attacked. The fight was long and bloody, and by the time it was over, only a hundred of our students escaped. The masters and teachers perished.” Ma paused. “After the school fell, a student named Jin Tang took charge and led twenty-five other students to the east and hid them deep within the mountains. There, they found a valley protected on all sides and accessible only by foot. Over the next year, the other students were relentlessly hunted down until they were captured and killed. Thinking they put an end to our Order, the other Orders stopped searching for us and went back to their daily routines.
Jin Tang, and the other students remained in the mountains and constructed a network of buildings to eat, sleep, and train. When they were finished, they named the monastery the Order of the White Fist and called themselves the Twenty-Five Deadly Strikes. They chose the title because someday they wanted to invoke fear into the hearts of their enemies. With a place to live and the threat of attack removed, they focused on their future and the path of vengeance each student vowed to take. A couple of things were also decided. The Order needed a Master, and old techniques had to be replaced with new ones.”
“How was a master selected?”
“They would have two contests a year for six years, and the student with the most wins would be crowned Master of Flowers, and as you know, it’s the highest achievement we have in our Order.”
“That’s it? Beat your fellow students to become the master?”
“Your ignorance is amusing. Jacko, how would you describe Master Shoo?”
“A humble, fair, and honorable man.”
“Exactly, and that is what the new master had to possess as well.”
“Who created the new techniques? The master?”
“No. Before the master was even selected, each student was required to develop one style on their own and practice it for ten years. After the ten years, they gathered and displayed their new styles. Of the twenty-five offered, only fifteen were worthy enough to be selected; those students were then allowed to participate in the contest with the winner being granted to learn another technique of his choosing.”
“Who won the first contest?” Jacko interrupted.
“A skilled individual named San Yan. He developed the blocking technique and was so good that he won every fight that day without ever being struck once.”
“I find that hard to believe he didn’t get hit once.”
Teacher Ma chuckled. “Me too.”
“What happened next?”
“San Yan went on to win the next six contests and only knew defeat three times. He humbly retired after that. Do you know why?”
“No idea.”
“Because he felt he had an unfair advantage against his fellow students, and he was the only one learning the other styles. He saw the bigger picture and wanted the Order to have other teachers mastering the other styles in case something was to happen to him unexpectedly. You see, San Yan was what everyone strived to be and that is why his peers unanimously awarded him the title Master of the Feathers.”
“What ever happened to the Order of the Falchion?”
“Revenge gave way to mercy and a few years later our Order decided to give them just that. Instead of killing their leader like an assassin would, Master Yan and several students paid them a visit and challenged them to a contest. The winner’s Order would be allowed to exist while the other would have to disband forever. They agreed, thinking that even if they lost they would gather the other Orders and attack us again just like they did before. What they didn’t know until the day of the contest was that Master Yan also invited several other Orders to witness the tournament just in case they thought they didn’t like the results.” Ma grinned.
“I’m guessing we won and that’s why they don’t exist any longer?”
“We sure did, and there was nothing they could do about it, otherwise the other Orders would hunt each student down. Word of our victory spread and drew interest in our Order, so as the years passed, hundreds of potential students flocked to our school. The teachers began interviewing them to see if they were worthy to join the Order. Each potential student had to have honor, empathy, and a caring attitude toward life in general. The
process took many months to complete and only yielded fifty prospects; some of those rejected took the news well and said they would be back in a few years, while others displayed anger and violence and tried to bring physical harm to the school. The latter individuals were dealt with swiftly and asked never to step on the premises again or face death. The fifty candidates were then tested to see if they possessed the necessary skills to succeed in the Order, which are physical, mental, and the most coveted one of all, spiritual.”
“How were they tested?”
“Physically, they were tested on strength, endurance, and flexibility. Mentally, they were tested on concentration, attention to detail, and endurance over many days and nights. Spiritual, they needed to pray uninterrupted for several days and believe in our way of life. Of the fifty prospects, only seven were allowed to join. Six were human and one was from the Fox race.” Ma paused to take a few bites of food, moaned in delight after each mouthful, and continued. “The following years produced a few more students worthy enough to join. Numbers were too low, even if the school was ever going to recover from the attacks. Master Yan had an idea and spoke to the other teachers. He wanted to accept children and teenagers into the Order, no matter if they were male or female or from another race. He felt they would be easier to teach. The other teachers eventually warmed to the idea, and it turned out it was the right choice because during Yan’s lifetime, the Order flourished and our numbers swelled. In fact, it was such a success, we needed to build additional schools throughout the area and in time, we established ourselves as a force to be reckoned with.” Ma sat back, smiled, and lit his pipe. “That’s the history of our Order.”
“Thank you for the history lesson, Teacher.” Jacko was proud of his school and decided to learn more about the Order when he returned to the monastery.
“You’re most welcome. Now to answer your question. My father brought me to the Order when I was nine because he wanted me to take over the family business someday.” Ma paused. “Wow, that was fifteen years ago.” His statement sounded surprising to himself. “His plans were for me to train for ten years and then become one of his bodyguards and learn the business.”
“So what happened after year ten?” Jacko asked.
“Like I said, that was my father’s agenda. I didn’t realize what I wanted to do with my life until my seventh year. I knew that I wanted to stay and become a teacher.”
“What did your father do?”
“To this day, he doesn’t speak with me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m not.”
“What’s your rank?”
“My rank is sixth and is known as the Griffin. I...”He paused when he saw a strange look on his student’s face. “Jacko, what’s wrong?”
“You’ve been in the Order for so many years and…”
Ma knew what he was going to say. “Jacko, don’t expect to advance too quickly. The skills are extremely tough to master. For instance, even though I’ve been learning the Three Finger Technique for ten years now, I still haven’t mastered it yet.” Jacko shook his head in acknowledgement, and Ma continued. “In addition to Three Finger Technique, I am also skilled in blocking and my favorite style, the deadly Iron Palm.” Ma held up his right hand, with his fingers curled slightly and palm extended upward. “The technique is quite deadly once mastered.” Jacko smiled in excitement. “However, it’s only available to students of the Eagle ranking or higher.” Ma grinned when his expression turned from excitement to disappointment. “Jacko, I want you to remember one thing: As you take this journey in life, take your time and enjoy the experiences. I guarantee your life will be more fulfilling. And remember, as you progress through the ranks, it’s not the quantity of techniques you learn, because in reality, you’ll never master more than five in your lifetime.”
“I’ll remember that.”
Ma yawned. “It’s getting late.”
****
The next day Teacher Ma continued to educate Jacko in the philosophy of both techniques and life; by the end of the session, he was pleased to announce that his student was ready to begin training. That evening, Jacko had a difficult time eating and sleeping because he was so excited and anxious for the new day to begin.
By morning of the third day, both teacher and student discussed the vigorous training schedule as they ate. When they were finished Jacko finally asked the one question that had been on his mind since he returned from the competition.
“Teacher,” he began, “was I supposed to win my contest?”
“Do you think you weren’t?”
“He was two ranks higher and much more skilled than I am.”
“Jacko, I must confess that I too was puzzled as well after I discovered whom you were fighting. There might be two reasons why you were so mismatched: Either they wanted Chow Yen to win easily, or they thought very highly of your skills.”
“Which do you believe?” Jacko asked, but in his heart, he actually didn’t want to know.
“It doesn’t matter what I, or anyone else, believes. You won and deserve this promotion. Did you learn anything from your fight?”
“Never underestimate your opponent and don’t turn your back on him until the contest is over.”
“Good. Make sure you keep that in mind when the time comes, and you face an opponent with lesser skills.”
“What would have happened if I’d lost?”
“I would only be allowed to train you in your current style.”
“Did you ever lose?”
“Me? Not only did I fail two promotions in a row, I lost my confidence as well. I was so distraught that if it wasn’t for a dear friend of mine, I might not be in the Order today. She taught me that there is no shame in losing as long as you learn from your mistakes.”
It was around mid-morning when they were ready to begin. Ma led him to an area surrounded by whipping trees and faced his student.
“Jacko, once again I’ll reiterate. This technique is tedious at times, but don’t be discouraged—it separates the talented students from the rest. It still amazes me that some of our students ignore this skill altogether and rely on styles that are mainly attack-driven.” Ma paused. “We should get started; we have long days ahead of us.”
Jacko was first taught the art of shifting his body so that he appeared to be in place in one minute and then in another the next. Even though the move was fairly simple in theory, he found out soon enough that his legs were far too weak to do this for any long period, and he would need to strengthen them. As the morning wore on, he was taught many more forms and stances to the point he was having a hard time following Teacher Ma’s instructions. When Ma noticed his frustration, he slowed and kept the moves simple. Around noon, they took a break for lunch and restarted shortly thereafter. Jacko did better than Ma expected and by nightfall, he ended their training session.
The next day Jacko’s legs were sore, but he never said anything to his teacher and continued on with the same routine as yesterday. By the afternoon, Teacher Ma wanted to give him a taste of the more advanced stuff and told him to take a break before they begin.
“Jacko, I’m sure your legs are extremely tired by now, so I want to teach you something different.”
“I’m okay.”
Ma grinned. “Okay, let me see. Squat into the horse stance and hold it there until I tell you to stop.”
Jacko obeyed, and Ma left him there until his legs gave out a few minutes later, and he fell down.
“I told you. Now get up and don’t be bullheaded,” said Ma. “There are two parts to this drill. You’re going to learn how to deflect attacks away and what to do in order to minimize the damage by moving your body in the same direction as the strike so that your opponent’s energy gets displaced. Are you ready?”
Jacko nodded.
Ma demonstrated how he wanted him to move, then instructed Jacko to attack with intention so that he could show him how the technique worked.
Jacko wa
s very impressed, because even though he landed several good strikes, Teacher Ma moved his body with them and didn’t really feel them at all. Jacko took over at Ma’s command.
By the time they were finished, it was nightfall. Jacko’s legs were weak and his arms were badly bruised; he had a hard time walking and lifting them to eat. They shared little conversation that night, and Jacko fell asleep almost instantly once he lay down.
The following morning, Jacko awoke to the smell of food cooking.
“Good morning. Did you sleep well?” Ma asked from a few feet away.
He got up and could feel the soreness in his muscles right away. “Yes. My legs hurt.”
“They should be.” Teacher Ma paused and smiled in gratification. “Today is the day we apply what you have learned.”
Jacko rubbed his arms and chest, hoping today’s lesson wouldn’t be as painful. “The style is tough. I’d never thought it would be.”
“You’ve performed very well so far, and I must compliment you on your ability to learn quickly.”
“Thank you, Teacher.” Jacko constantly prided himself on being a quick study and was happy the teacher recognized it.
When they were ready, they returned to the place they trained the day before.
“Are you prepared?” Teacher Ma asked and stopped, unexpectedly facing his student.
“Yes.”
“Then let’s begin. I need you to start off by blocking my punches.”
Ma must have thrown a couple hundred punches. At first, they were slow and directed at specific areas; then, when Ma felt Jacko was blocking them fairly easily, he picked up the tempo and used a complex combination of speed and misdirection to throw his timing off. As a result, Jacko was struck in various places.
“Good,” Teacher Ma said after he abruptly halted. “Now let’s see how you do against my kicks.”
Once again, Ma trained him in the same manner as he did with the punches, and Jacko reacted even better this time. The drill continued over the next four hours with Teacher Ma using his notable skills to improve Jacko’s technique. When he was satisfied with his progress, he stopped.
A Demon's Quest the Beginning of the End the Trilogy Box Set Page 6
