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CC: Chapter 82
🕑 Added 2024-07-22 14:30:05 +0000 UTCThe roar of the crowd could be heard even through the thickness of the Eternal Dragon Quarters.
XJ-V and Feng-Lung sat staring at the ground, their heads almost knocking together as each man contemplated what was to come in silence. Until, finally, the silence was broken.
“THE TIME OF OUR PENULTIMATE BOUT APPROACHES!”
“Looks like destiny is calling me,” Feng-Lung whispered.
“Feng,” his Cog companion said. “Whatever happens, know that you are a Cultivator who is a testament to the order of Ramor-Tai. We all know that.”
Feng smiled up at him, hearing the grinding of the gateway that would take him to his final challenge. A challenge that had been a long time coming.
“You think I can beat him, Brother?”
XJ-V smiled right back. “Not a doubt in my mind.”
…
The arena pit had changed again – this time to resemble a small piece of valley floor that churned with ethereal winds. Blades of grass flickered and leaves fell from the summoned trees of the Regulators as the icy wind whipped through their boughs. Looked on from above, it looked like a more aggressive version of Aun’El’s Grove. But XJ-V could imagined just how terrifying such an arena must be for the two Disciples who now stood and bowed to face the other.
“Why are the Regulators making this arena so unbalanced for two members of the Dragon Sect?” XJ-V asked Fai-Deng, who was preoccupied with keeping his Brother Tiger, Kai, propped up on his shoulder. The Tiger had largely recovered from the shock of Mah-Jung’s attack, but he still seemed ready to doze off to a peaceful slumber at any moment.
“This is the way of the final bouts,” Fai-Deng replied as the crowd cheered to see the penultimate match commence. “Both opponents should fight at a physical disadvantage. As for the final bout itself…well, that is another story.”
XJ-V wondered at his Brother’s statement, reminding himself that whoever won this match would be his opponent in the final battle of the tournament.
He gripped the arms of his seat as Feng waved to the crowd, ever-smiling, ever valiant, as his opponent merely looked on with steely determination.
Determination to win…XJ-V noticed. At any cost…
He’d seen eyes like those before. Those were the eyes he could never forget…
“RAMOR-TAI!” Ori’un screeched as both the Dragons finished their final stretches and bowed low to the other. “ARE YOU READY TO SEE WHAT DRAGONS ARE TRULY MADE OF?”
The uproar of cheers was, XJ-V noticed, more muted than previous bouts. Indeed, as his eyes swept the crowd, it seemed the Cianjie were overall more bored than before – they’d placed their bets based on prior evidence. And, clearly, they were satisfied that they’d backed the right horse.
“Arha hopes Feng-Lung wins,” a timid voice muttered behind XJ-V’s shoulder.
The Cog turned to give his Huli a little pet around her ears. “He will,” he replied. “He has to.”
Yet the dark, swollen eyes of Mah-Jung caught him again, and XJ-V could once again swear that they found him in the crowd for the briefest moment before turning back to watch Feng-Lung bow.
“It is an honor, Brother Mah-Jung,” Feng said with a half-smile. “To have even made it this far is more than I could have hoped for.”
“You do yourself a disservice, Brother Feng-Lung,” Mah-Jung replied as he assumed his Gonbu stance with cat-like grace. “The whole monastery speaks of your honor, your valor, and your loyalty to your friends.”
Though those around him seemed to applaud such a statement, XJ-V noted something hidden in those words. The candor of camaraderie they suggested was not matched in the dark features of their speaker. There was something else there…pain? Fury? Or maybe…jealousy…
The Qi levels of both the Disciples were brimming, flaring like spectral flowers blooming in the blistering sun that gazed down from above the rim of the Colosseum’s walls. Even to the novices of the monastery, there could be no mistaking it: in terms of raw strength, Mah-Jung far eclipsed his Brother.
So when the final word of Ori’un came, it was all the Cog could do to dispel the trepidation rising in his metal guts and cheers for his friend, bringing the crowd with him.
“FENG-LUNG!” he shouted. “DO IT FOR ____!”
Most of the crowd clapped confusedly at the statement – most of them except the Disciple the message had been meant for. At the mention of his home village, coming from the steel mouth of his friend, Feng-Lung’s half-smile became a smirk of renewed confidence.
“BEGIN!” The Planeswalker shouted.
Mah-Jung launched into the fight before Ori’un even finished his announcement. The crowd held their breath as he launched five Dragon Tooth strikes at Feng in quick succession, three white-hot tendrils that snaked towards the Disciple with sentient-like homing instincts.
Feng…
He was doing nothing. He was watching as the fireballs arced towards him. His stance was loose, unfocused, unreal almost. Whatever plan he had…
A gust of wind roared through the arena just before the firebolts impacted Feng’s face, and the smirk that was left there never wavered once.
“HA!” Fai chuckled as the crowd cheered. “He noted the special effects of this battlefield – mark you, XJ-V, every thirty seconds a new gust of wind tears through the battlefield.”
The Cog shared his friend’s smile. You waited and watched, Feng. I’m sure Ori’un will be pleased to see you’ve learned your lesson after all these years.
“We have a keen-eyed strategist among us!” The Planeswalker shouted as if on-cue. “We would expect nothing less of Brother Feng-Lung!”
Mah-Jung did not wait out the surprise. He flew at Feng with speed unmatched, impressing even the Tigers in the crowd as he practically blazed a burning path through the reeds and grasses of the plane-arena.
And once again, Feng was ready.
As Mah-Jung readied a Flame Lash with a buildup of heat that sizzled through the crowd, Feng leaped and channeled two Dragon’s Tooth strikes through his feet – his specialty that took him high above the winds where he could strike at his opponent unhindered.
But this time, Mah-Jung had been faster. With lightning speed he spun and directed his leash at Feng’s ankle, wrapping his foot with burning threads that seared the boy’s skin and brought him crashing back down to the burning earth.
The crowd’s shouts announced his impact, and XJ-V rose to see through the smoky crater that he was now buried in.
Some seconds of silenced followed that were broken only by Mah-Jung channeling two Flame-Lashes that crept around both his arms, his hands practically disappearing as they were replaced by two tentacles of everburning fire.
And once again, XJ-V’s memory banks began to sieze up, running through images and knowledge buried somewhere deep within his subconsciousness. He’d seen this technique before…
In the next instant Feng rocketed up from behind Mah-Jung, feet flaring with renewed power. Even for the expert Temperer, the boy’s speed was legendary, and his Lash-arms only just managed to block Feng’s rapid strikes. What they did not manage to do, however, was keep their bearer stoic in the face of such forceful attacks. Mah-Jung was sent flying back into the next gust of wind that blew through the valley floor, his Lashes being extinguished almost as soon as they appeared.
And that was exactly the opening Feng was banking on.
Without missing a single beat, Feng roared as he launched a Flaming Dervish strike that lit up the arena. An arc of pure, raw flame surged from his feet and slammed into Mah-Jung with enough force to send the Disciple tumbling to the edge of the arena pit.
“HAH!” Kai-Thai couldn’t help but cough. “See, my Brother? Even a cough dragon has limits!”
“An astounding move by young Feng!” Ori’un agreed. “Moving with the grace of a burrowing serpent, and striking with the red-hot fires of his Sect’s patron spirit!”
From the far end of the arena pit, there then came a surge of Qi power that blasted the plants still unburning in the artificial valley to dust.
Mah-Jung rose, consternation etched across his now wrinkled brows, and threw off his burning purple robe.
“Ho-ho!” Kai-Thai called out. “So it shall be the battle of the cough naked Temperers now? I say, Planeswalker! Is this really the place for this kind of thi-mnh!”
“Enough from you,” Fai-Deng murmured as he placed his Brother in a stout headlock. “You are ruining the tension…”
XJ-V agreed with the Tiger for once. Even Arha seemed to be practically falling off the edge of his shoulder.
Feng-Lung, meanwhile, floated back down to the earth with the grace of a practiced dancer.
“Well, Brother?” he said. “Where are your masterful tricks? Come now, stop holding back – show me what those purple robes are worth!”
The crowd held their breath at the young Temperer’s goading, but Mah-Jung, brushing off a stray ember on his shoulder, replied with nothing but serenity:
“As you wish, Brother.”
