Chapter 3
I decided to wait out the blizzard in the ruins of my own prison. Through the hole the explosion had blown in the wall, icy wind howled in carrying snow and the sharp bite of ozone. The first floor held barracks of some kind — rows of cots with small trunk-like chests at the head of each one.
This was where my jailers had lived, and trained as well, judging by the practice room I found not far off. The sour, stale reek of rhino sweat hit me square in the face. Revolting.
There was no dining hall, which was disappointing — the thought of tasting food again was almost unbearable. My stomach, silent for twenty years, abruptly reminded me of its existence with a hungry spasm. No help for it. The dining hall was probably on the other side of the bridge, which meant the rhinos I'd dropped back into the pit could at least eat for a while — assuming they didn't kill each other in the dark. That thought gave me a grim sort of satisfaction.
I wandered through the half-demolished halls — hardly surprising after all those explosions — and eventually found Vachir's room.
It wasn't dramatically different from the others, just smaller. And as I'd hoped, it held a map. Tai Lung's memories let me read it without difficulty. It was drawn crudely on cured hide, but it marked everything that mattered: the Spire of Ten Thousand Spears, where I stood now, and the distant Valley of Peace.
I settled into a chair made from branches twisted into a peculiar shape and decided to sleep for a while. The chair was surprisingly sturdy, despite looking like the work of a very drunk carpenter.
Not the safest choice, maybe, but I was exhausted. Not so much physically as in every other way — the shock of what my Chi had done, the merging of two minds into one. This wasn't ordinary tiredness. It was burnout. The war inside my head had finally ended, and now I needed to reset. It would probably help the memory issues fade faster, too. Experiencing yourself as two separate beings at once was not a comfortable sensation.
Why had I agreed so readily to play the avenger, to chase after a title that would give me nothing on its face?
Well.
Setting aside the strange, blazing certainty that this title was mine by right — a feeling that had lit up my chest in that moment with unmistakable intensity, clearly the original Tai Lung's pride speaking — the title itself actually solved some very real problems. And that was where the practical mind of an ordinary mechanic quietly won out over the warrior's fury.
In the eyes of the imperial court, the Dragon Warrior was a legal and administrative position that came with defined rights and responsibilities. Like all kung fu masters, the Dragon Warrior had both the right and the obligation to use his skills against criminals, to suppress unlawful activity wherever it arose. Unlike most masters, however, the Dragon Warrior held no fixed jurisdiction — he could operate anywhere in China.
And then there was the real prize.
Along with the title came the Emperor's personal respect, and — full amnesty. A complete pardon for all past crimes.
There it was. This was my quiet way of saying: once I held the title of Dragon Warrior, I could live openly. My past mistakes would cease to matter under the law. I could walk in daylight without looking over my shoulder for an imperial army. I would no longer be a fugitive — I would be a hero.
Especially if the emperor who had signed my warrant twenty years ago had since died of old age.
"Ah…" I sighed, stretching out in the chair. Sleeping in a rhino's bed was possible, technically — just not something I had any desire to do. Too revolting. So I'd spend the night here, in the chair. Still more comfortable than kneeling with multi-ton boulders pulling at my wrists and needles that made it impossible to breathe properly.
Thinking through all of this, I drifted off without worrying about intruders. A master of my level would sense any presence even in sleep.
***
*Valley of Peace — the Jade Palace*
Far from the icy peaks of Chorh-Gom, the sunlit Valley of Peace held a very different kind of atmosphere.
"Master, are you certain this is a good idea?" A young woman with short green hair and a pair of clips in it watched with an uncertain expression as the newly announced Dragon Warrior was being beaten — or rather, trained.
A panda named Po, who had appeared at the Jade Palace only a few days ago, was currently taking hits to the face from Mantis, one of the Furious Five.
*Thud.*
*Smack.*
*Oof.*
By now the poor panda had been beaten by every single resident of the Jade Palace today — Master Shifu had apparently even asked the janitor to "help with training." And watching it all, Viper found this approach… somewhat excessive. Po was clumsy, loud, yes — but harmless.
"I will not allow this fat oaf to become the Dragon Warrior!" the small elderly figure with the markings of a red panda replied, his voice tight with barely restrained fury. "I trained all of you for this purpose for many years. I refuse to accept such a Dragon Warrior."
Meanwhile the thirty-centimeter fighter with green claws finished his turn with the panda and rejoined the others.
But rather than giving up, Po groaned, climbed to his feet, and simply performed the bao quan gesture — the ceremonial salute of deep respect, peace, and martial virtue.
The tiny elder had apparently not anticipated this. For the first time all day, open contempt entered his voice.
"Until now I have been merciful to you, panda," the master said coldly, eyes narrowing. "Enough. Your next opponent will be me."
"Let's go, yeah! Come on!" Po shouted, already grinning that same foolish grin he'd worn since morning, hauling himself upright from the ground.
The panda's peculiar enthusiasm unsettled several members of the Furious Five. Mantis in particular.
"One step forward," Shifu commanded, positioning himself opposite Po. When Po took that step, the tiny man simply lifted the enormous, heavyset panda completely off the ground and began spinning him through the air at tremendous speed. "To achieve victory," Shifu began, "you must find your opponent's weakness." He dropped Po to the ground and twisted his arm into a hold. "And make him suffer."
"Uh-huh, yeah…" Po managed, wincing but still smiling.
"Use his own strength against him until he surrenders or gives up!" Shifu resumed spinning the panda overhead, then slammed him to the ground again and lifted his head by the nose.
"But a true warrior never gives up!" Po announced with enthusiasm. "Don't worry, Master, I won't give up either!"
The words, meant to reassure, seemed only to infuriate the master further.
He flipped Po overhead, launched him into the air, and just before he landed drove both feet into the panda's gut, sending him on an extended flight down the palace steps.
*Boom.*
*Thud.*
*Bang.*
*Oof.*
*Ow.*
"If he has any sense, he'll stay down there and not climb those stairs again," Tigress said as the young masters filed out through the palace gates to watch the Dragon Warrior's descent firsthand.
"He'll come back up," Monkey said, his eye twitching involuntarily.
"He just doesn't want to quit," Viper said, coming to the panda's defense, watching his tumbling, groaning descent with quiet sadness.
"Doesn't want to quit rolling down the stairs?" Mantis smirked — then fell immediately silent when Viper turned a sharp look on him.
"I wonder where all that enthusiasm comes from," Crane offered.
"You wonder?" Monkey said. "I honestly don't care. He's strange. And he doesn't belong here — what kind of master is he going to be?"
"Kung fu masters aren't born," Viper said, turning an annoyed gaze on Monkey. "They become. Or should I remind you how you begged Master Shifu to take you as a student?"
"Ahem. That won't be necessary," Monkey muttered, and retreated toward the palace.
"Do you really think he has a chance?" Mantis asked. "He's just a fat panda."
"I don't know," Viper admitted. "But mocking the weak is not what we were taught to do."
"Fine, fine — I'll help him, then. A session of therapeutic acupuncture can't hurt, I suppose," Mantis said, thoughtfully.
"An excellent idea. I'll scan his body and map his Chi points in that case — with his, ah, particular build, I imagine it'll be difficult for you to work it out on your own." Viper smiled.
"I'd appreciate that."
***
*The Spire of Ten Thousand Spears — Chorh-Gom Prison, Underground*
Waking was… easy, somehow.
My mind felt rested. My body had recovered.
After that short sleep — brief, but exactly what I'd needed — I set about looting the barracks.
Searching through every chest and trunk, I turned up a couple of silver ingots called *liang*, and a few thousand bronze coins known as *wen*. I cleaned them out of my former jailers' belongings with considerable satisfaction.
The exchange rate was highly variable — *liang* were typically used either for major transactions or for paying taxes — but roughly speaking, one silver ingot equaled a thousand bronze coins. It was no surprise that I'd found the silver specifically in the warden's room. Vachir had apparently not been above a little theft.
As for the truly important items — because the money was secondary right now, however pleasant it was to have. A grandmaster of kung fu, reduced to picking through the dead for the price of a bowl of rice. The irony.
Beyond the map, I managed to find only a clean sleeping roll and a rucksack, both of which I left behind.
Sleep wasn't exactly a necessity for me, and if I genuinely needed to rest, I could sleep on stone or bare ground without complaint. After twenty years in that shell on my back, sleeping on granite, any surface at all felt like a feather mattress.
In the end, I took a few dozen *wen* and both *liang*, tucking them into my pockets. If I reached any kind of settlement, I'd need something to pay with. I was a future hero, not a bandit.
I walked to the scorched opening that had once been a door. The icy wind hit my face and tugged at my hair. I breathed in slowly, letting the cold, clean air of freedom fill my lungs.
"Well then. God willing," I murmured, noting inwardly how strange that phrase sounded in Tai Lung's voice.
I stepped over the twisted metal and, without looking back, set off in the direction of the nearest town.
I could walk, technically. But — *walk.* Ha. I had spent twenty years pinned to one spot. Moving slowly now held absolutely no appeal.
It wasn't only impatience, either. I was genuinely worried that if I took too long, Po would have time to develop further than he had in the film.
My knowledge of the story was my greatest advantage — and my greatest source of anxiety. I could not afford to give that panda time to transform from a clumsy fool into a fully realized Dragon Warrior.
The last thing I wanted was to arrive in the Valley of Peace and find not a lucky fat man but a wall of black-and-white muscle. No thank you. This was a race. A race against a fate I already knew.
The village with the resonant name of Han-Ya — Cold Cliff — was not too far from my prison. I checked Vachir's map: a couple of mountain ridges to the southwest. For an ordinary person, several dozen hours on foot through snow, or somewhat less by the road going around.
Weighing my options, I decided to run at full speed and slow down only as I approached the village, so as not to send the inhabitants into a panic.
*Full speed.* What did that mean for me now?
I stood at the edge of the cliff by the ruins of Chorh-Gom. The frozen wind pulled at my hair.
I crouched. The muscles in my legs coiled like steel springs. Chi surged through my meridians, ready to be released.
And I pushed off.
The world exploded.
This wasn't running — it was something between flight and teleportation. I tore across the snowfield, throwing up a vast plume of white powder behind me. Trees didn't pass by — they flickered, blurring into streaks of green and brown.
I leaped across ravines that would have taken an ordinary person hours to go around. I ran up sheer cliff faces, driving my claws into ice and stone, using Chi to carve handholds out of nothing where none existed.
Twenty years. Twenty years I had been chained to a rock. And now —
"I'M FREE!"
It was intoxicating. Wild. Primal. I was laughing, and my laughter became a roar that the wind swept away. Every muscle sang. Every part of me was alive and in motion. This was what the body had been born to do.
I stopped only once, at the summit of a bare peak, to get my bearings. The blizzard had long since passed, and the low winter sun was pushing through ragged clouds, bathing everything in cold golden light.
Tai Lung's memory supplied what I needed: Chorh-Gom stood at the northernmost point of these mountains. The sun sat to my left — to the southeast — which put my destination to the southwest. Vachir's map, which I unfolded briefly, confirmed it. Han-Ya lay in a gorge just beyond the next ridge.
I folded the map away and ran again, slower this time, dropping down toward the treeline.
Twenty years was a long time. Many people had probably forgotten me.
Well. *Forgotten* might be generous. Completely erased me, no. "The Monster of Chorh-Gom," "the Traitor of the Jade Palace" — I was willing to bet a certain old tortoise had spent the last two decades spinning legends about the inevitable return of the wicked, corrupted Tai Lung. The thought made me grimace.
Something like that had been mentioned in the story, if I recalled correctly. I was the local bogeyman.
If I came crashing into a village at full sprint, the panic would be severe enough to empty it. The townspeople would flee into the forest, and that was the last thing I needed. How was I supposed to buy new clothes if the merchant had already bolted? I needed clothes, a more detailed map, news of the wider world, and — if the gods were feeling generous — a bowl of hot noodles. I hadn't eaten in twenty years.
I slowed down and decided to scout the village from above before entering. I descended the final ridge and soon saw it.
Han-Ya. A few dozen houses clinging to the mountainside, and thin threads of smoke curling from chimneys into the gray sky.
I hadn't expected much, so there was little to complain about — though, if I was being honest, I felt a flicker of disappointment at the sight of such an ordinary, tiny village. A small city would have served me considerably better.