The
Encounter
He was surrounded.
Yet he knew that the moment he
stepped into the barren and dark warehouse, that it was not entirely deprived
of any content…or persons.
It was one of the first lessons he
was taught in the beginning of his tutelage: to always be wary of one’s
surroundings. Even if there is nothing, expect there to be always something.
There were many of them, an
estimated thirty-five in total he counted. At least that was as many as he
counted visible within the reach of the lone light. While several of them were
empty-handed with tightly clenched fists, the rest of them were armed bitterly
to the teeth with knives, axes, ice-hooks, chains, and various blunt objects.
It was clear that this gang of armed
combatants had the advantage in numbers and size compared to this lone
stranger, unarmed and apparently defenseless.
But every warrior, even those
without any sort of training, must always know: that the image presented is
merely an illusion, and that the truth always lies behind with the image’s true
motives. And even though the assailants were armed and numbered and appeared to
be fearless and ruthless, the lone stranger could see that their own illusion
was failing several of the assailants. Several armed combatants’ hands were
shaking with nervousness and anticipation. Sweat could bee seen traveling down
heads and palms. Others had faces of not determination, but utter reluctance
and doubt.
It was clearly apparent that this
lone defenseless stranger was not all that he appeared to be.
And then, the stranger took his
stance, fiercely yet ever calm, his arms and elbows close to his chest and just
below his face. From his stance, the stranger surveyed his opponents,
contemplating on his next move. He then turned his left hand against his would-be
attackers, and made the all-to familiar gesture: come, if you dare.
The first assailants then leaped
forward, their weapon ready to strike.
But just as they left the
ground, the assailant was immediately sent gliding back down to the ground,
almost as if an invisible force had repelled them back. But in truth, the
stranger’s powerful front kick had only returned to the ground as fast as it
had left to intercept the combatant.
Another three combatants charged.
One attacker’s would-be lethal blow
was prevented with a hard elbow strike to the face, knocking them out cold onto
the floor. Another attacker’s low strike was deflected by a quick block,
followed by a strong kick to the attacker’s chest that sent them flying into
another smaller group of assailants. The third opponent was far less successful
as they extended their arm to cut down the stranger, only for the opponent to
be thwarted by several punches. Punches so fast that they barely appeared to
have struck at all, and so destructive that to be struck by one was to be
struck by a cannonball while a series was to be bombarded with cannonball fire.
The attackers that took the leap of
faith laid on the ground unconscious at the stranger’s feet, still in his
ever-calmly stance, having yet to break a single sweat.
The illusion now having faded, the
rest of the assailants now saw that this was no ordinary stranger. No.
This…this was a Master.
And yet, despite seeing how easily
their comrades failed to penetrate the Master’s defense, they continued with
their siege.
One by one, each assailant’s attempt
to cut down the Master was deflected by his defense, followed by multiple
strikes, punches, or kicks. Or in several instances, a combination of each
attack motion. Those who had yet to strike looked on as this near-invincible
Master stuck down each and every one their comrades. Thoughts ran through their
heads as they watched: how is it that this one man was able to take down this
many assailants? Only something non-human was capable of such feats. Was this
Master perhaps, not human at all?
The floor was littered with multiple
assailants, unconscious or groaning from their injuries and bruises. Now, only
a few remained. Yet, even these combatants were reluctant to join their fellow
combatants lying at their feet. The Master remained in his calmed stance, ready
to intercept the next wave of assaults.
It was then that the locked
warehouse door was forcefully opened by a powerful kick, the power of the
forced entrance releasing the door from its hinges and sent flying towards the
Master. A hastily side kick from the Master intercepted the door, sending the
door to smash into a nearby wall.
The Master then turned his head
slowly to see who had entered the fray, studying his new Challenger as the
latter entered the warehouse.
This new Challenger was taller by a
few inches. He appeared to be perhaps just a few years shy of the Master’s own
age. Based on the power of the challenger’s kick, the Master surmised that this
new challenger also had the advantage in strength.
However, a true martial artist
always knows that physique and power alone are not what makes a true master of
his art. The Master knew this, and so too did the Challenger.
But as the Challenger lashed quickly
with a double leaping front kick, the Master also figured that such lessons as
this were merely ignored, as was the fierce ruthful expression in his new
opponent’s face. Stopping each kick, the Master accepted the invitation with a
straight forward punch to the chest. Stepping back a few paces, the Challenger shrugged
off the Master’s punch, and assumed his own stance.
The Challenger then resumed his
attack, unleashing a series of his own punches and kicks, each with enough
force and strength to take down his opponent in seconds. But the Master proved
that he was no ordinary opponent, as he dodged and blocked every single one of
the Challenger’s attacks with ease and little difficulty. The Master in return
retaliated with a rapid elbow strike to the face, leaving the Challenger dazed
and unable to defend against a hand strike to his neck, forcing him to fall
face-first onto the floor. As the Challenger tried to get up, the Master threw
a kick that stopped short of the former’s face, a gesture signifying to yield.
But the Master knew that such a
fight would not be concluded with such a mere gesture. As he walked away, the
Challenger, as anticipated, (in a fit of rage) rose from the floor and charged
with a flying side kick, only for the Master to merely step out of the kick’s
path. He then blocked his foe’s kick with a low kick, following it with a kick
to the Challenger’s stomach, the force of the kick leaving the Challenger in a
state of nausea.
As he attempted to regain focus, the
Challenger fell victim to the barrage of rapid-fire punches that struck his
face and chest. Knowing that defeat was inevitable, the Challenger, with the
last of his strength, lunged at the Master.
It only took one back kick to send the
Challenger flying through a window and outside onto the street, the Challenger
defeated and unconscious.
The battle finally finished, the Master let
out a long sigh of relief. Despite defeating every single one of his opponents,
he felt no joy in beating his opponents. No matter their attempts to take his
life, to the Master, they were men nonetheless. Such a conflict and destructive
punishment for these men could have easily been avoided.
The
Master took one last look at his surroundings, most of the combatants having
regained consciousness and used every bit of their strength to retreat from the
warehouse while some still laid on the floor unconscious from the battle. The
Master then took his right fist into his left hand into the Bao Quan, the “Fist Wrapping”, and
extended his hands away from his chest while bowing his head in upmost respect
for his opponents. The Master then raised his head and lowered his hands, and
walked outside the warehouse. He then took one last look at the warehouse,
nodded to himself, and walked into the nightly atmosphere.
END
