Chapter 2.1: The Sky and the Mountain

Kalam bows low toward both Shifu. He then turns and bows respectfully towards his opponent Wu Meng. "My name is Kalam Makhir. I represent Shifu Qian. You do me great honor with this match." he then pulls out two mismatched wooden practice daggers from his belt. One called a Janbiya the other is a Hachiwari.

He bows one more time to signify that he is ready. Then drops into fighting stance. His janbiya in his right hand close to his side and his hachiwari in his left held out before him in a reverse grip. He sits low to the ground, seemingly ready to spring across the floor, but he doesn't move.

Wu Meng bowed to both masters, seated as they were on the same side of the square courtyard, facing east, as the morning sun rose to cast a pleasant light on the gathering. The shifus themselves were in a serene, contemplative mood next to each other; this was no competition nor battle, but an opportunity to meet and exchange philosophies between the two schools. The rest of the disciples who ringed the square kept similar meditativeness, although their faces belied the eagerness to watch the proceedings.

"I am Wu Meng, eighth disciple of Shifu Gen. You do me great honour as well with your visit, and more so with this exchange." Meng bowed in gratitude. From his place, he removed his upper robe; it was their custom in weaponless combat to show that they had nothing concealed on their body. Strips of sparring cloth wrapped around his forearms, and both his bald pate and bare chest caught the warmth of the yellow rays.

Stepping forward, his right foot began to trace a circle on the ground, except it wasn't only a circle, but moved to outline the shape of yin and yang, with a bisecting S-shaped line through the centre. At the same time his arms began to rise until they were spread wide on either side of him, fingers pointing downwards. The right foot then lifted, bent in front of him, while his left leg remained unmoving, steady as a mountain, until the monk's stance reached its first position, like a crane poised in stillness, ready to fly.

Edited: Added a roll for the monk's daily starting ki. Forgot to do so earlier. Result - hold 3 ki.

It was but a moment, but it stretched into eternity. Each student studying the other, memorizing form, muscle movement, even breathing. It was Kalam who moved first, grace in motion, like a streak of lightning he propelled forward to Wu Meng. Within hand reach his wooden practice dagger struck out with supernatural precision.

Kalam struck true his faux blade like Quicksilver but his rib were exposed to the towering Wu Meng. Knowing it won't be enough he braces for the impact to come.

As Kalam streaked forward faster than the eye can see, Wu Meng marveled at his amazing speed and saw no way to avoid the blade directed at him. However, the offensive motion of his opponent left Kalam's entire body undefended. With a flick of his hand, Meng touched the ground and flicked a seemingly harmless pebble at Kalam's torso. The stone struck true from the entire momentum generated by the monk's circular motion.

Wu Meng then directed his qi to resist the force of the incoming blade. Made of wood as it was, the impact of a skilled bladesman was still nothing to laugh at. The tip glanced off his shoulder, but grazed his muscle all the same. Twisting to absorb the blow, his own mantis strike went wide, missing the flank of Kalam's ribs by a hair's breath.

His hachiwari clipped the stone but not nearly hard enough. As he struck Wu Meng's shoulder with his Janbiya he felt the wind brush past his ribs from the failed strike.
Now that a measure of the mountain was taken, Kalam saw his opening. His Janbiya quickly struck out blue sand trailing, as a sigil with a jagged line through it hung in the air behind it. His faux blade crackles with Galvanic energies as he strikes.

Kalam seeing his blow strike true, quickly follows up with a Torrential onslaught of strikes. Not letting up now that he had momentum, knowing that should Wu Meng recover, he might be on the receiving end.

Wu Meng continued to be impressed by the deftness at which Kalam moved both his blades. His failed strike cost him dearly as the blade which injured his shoulder drew blue energy from Kalam's mastery of the sky. The lighting arc jolted his shoulder where it made contact, and coursed down his entire arm, leaving it paralysed. Then a blinding series of slashes confronted him, leaving Meng no choice but to flip out of the way, leaping backwards to a distance unreachable by those blades, giving the monk a moment to center his own focus.

Kalam charges for Wu, the last few feet he slides low a familiar sigil behind him and a trail of fine blue sand trailing his wooden blade. His Janbiya strikes out for Wu's right leg this time. Lightning coursing down Kalam's arm and into the faux blade.

Meng's training in qinggong, or 'flying footwork', enabled him to leap into the air. In a graceful tumble, the points of his feet barely touched the ground as his flitted backwards, away from the singular thrust of Kalam's janbiya. The blade missed; Meng was just slightly out of physical reach from the dagger, but the lighting did not miss, and arced across the blade tip to electrocute Meng's right leg, numbing it entirely.

Without hesitating, Meng landed on the now-numb leg of his, and used its dead weight to leverage the circular arc of his left leg as he swung a kick at Kalam's head. He then used the leverage off that kick to continue to launch him further backwards, putting more distance between himself and the elf. He was now no more within the striking distance of Kalam's swift charges and deadly strikes.

It was an impressive sight: the monk had tucked his left arm behind him, right hand posed in front of him, like a meditating buddha. He balanced on one leg, right leg folded back, eyes closed; the entire effect was as if he was an unyielding tree, rooted to the mountain.

Kalam just got the hachiwari up in time, didn't stop the hit from connecting but softened the blow a hair. It left his ear ringing but no serious injury. As Kalam's leg still stung from the rock earlier.
He didn't know what had happened. He'd missed his attack but the Galvanic still discharged. Yet his opponent still was able to stand on his leg. He straightens to his full height and looks over to his right at Wu.
"Impressive, student of the mountain. A lesser man would have met his end. I am truly grateful for this match. You do me great honor."
At that he switches stance, he reverses his grip on both his blades and holds before him. The hachiwari in front pointing to the sky, the janbiya crossed behind forming a kind of x. He crouches his legs behind him, again, ready to spring.
He draws in a deep breath and closes his eyes, as he exhales his eyes slowly open, a slight blue glow behind them. A slight look of concentration plays across his face.

"Brother of the sky, your mastery of the twin knives is unparalled, as are the multitude of techniques you have at your disposal. I am not your equal in close quarters, superior as you are in one-on-one combat." Meng, eyes closed, could sense Kalam's penetrating gaze in searching for an opening, and more so, attempting to discern what Meng's next move was.

"I have withdrawn beyond your striking range in the hope of engaging you where you cannot reach, as my kungfu strikes have greater range than your blades, and I am able to use ordinary things to attack you from a distance." The monk spoke candidly and without guile. After all, the contest was not one of deception and surprise, nor was it one of victory and defeat, but one of learning and enlightenment. Meng upheld his integrity and honoured his opponent by enabling him to understand what his tactics and next moves were. "If you can counter my strategy, I will humbly concede the match."

Kalam's charge was again flawless. While the duelist could not strike at Wu Meng this round, his sprint left no opening for Meng to exploit. Meng could only resort to the most straightforward of options. This time it was a convenient twig on the sparring ground that the monk used to flick at Kalam from this distance, before once again withdrawing to put some distance between himself and the charging duelist.

Kalam dosen't dodge the attack, knowing that he chose the right path. Even though dodging would have been natural for him, out of all the paths he saw that closed the distance, this one path was head on.
He spun at the last second, blue sand trailing behind. It took less than a fraction of a second to etch the symbol in the air. Decades of training and memory have made it as easy as thought. He felt the cool rush of power flow through him. Felt it build in his hand before flowing into the wooden knife. His awareness of this moment always thrilled him. Time seemed to stand still for him, this split second stretched into several. He knew he'd pay for this latter, that was fine. All magicks have a cost, his was time. Fatigue would hit him hard after this match, and he'd have a few more grey hairs for a bit. It was worth it, all of it, worth it. He never felt more alive than when in a fight.

If it were even possible, Kalam's blade thrust was even more precise than his previous strikes, unerring as the duelist was. There was no counter possible to the attack. With the last of his reserves, Meng held his position and drew strength from the spirit of the mountain, resisting the lightning magic that Kalam drew from the heavens.

It was the last of his energies, and Meng made it count. At that moment, his will was more powerful than the electricity coursing through the meridians of his body. The attack dissipated harmlessly back into the air it came from as Meng's right palm pushed forward, accompanied by a wave of force, both to deflect and to push Kalam backward.

Meng's last burst of ki resisted the damage from Kalam's blade. His body however, did not fare well against the electricity Kalam had summoned throughout the duel. The energy coursed through his muscles and sinews, finally forcing him to sit down, cross-legged, again in a buddha's meditative pose, willing the electricity from the sky to dissipate into the mountain below.

The match however, was effectively over. "Thank you, disciple of the sky, for your instruction today. I have learnt much from what you have taught me. If our masters permit, I shall concede the match. And look forward patiently to the next time we exchange skills." The monk lowered his head to the ground in a deep bow, first to Kalam, then to both their shifus.

Kalam bows respectfully towards Wu Meng, "You have shown much honor and skill in this match. You have taught me much." he bows again respectfully towards Wu Meng. Then turns and bows respectfully towards both Shifu, "Wu Meng has shown both skill and heart in this match. I am truly grateful for this opportunity. Thank you Shifus. Should I have been unarmed, there is without a doubt that Wu Meng would have been the victor." At that he bows again respectfully towards the Shifus.

Duel over, and the strength returning to his limbs, Meng relaxed from the formalities of the match to walk with Kalam as they exited the square to their next destination. "When we have the opportunity, I shall be keen to learn from you how you were able to dodge my counter and aim straight for my weak point. In return I'll share what I've been practising: a way to leap higher and further and without sound..." The young disciple's enthusiasm at the match did not wane as he continued to exchange notes with the elf.