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“I did,” Jerry Flynn said. “I had you brought here for your own safety.
Kurt Angle stood up and said, “but wh...”
“You’re a god damn stupid fuck, you son of a bitch,” the Bossman interrupted. “If you didn t have all these ninjas or whatever surrounding you... Well hell, I’ve got Angle with me. Come on, Kurt. Let’s kick some ass!
“Wait,” Flynn said. “You shouldn’t have come here. There is a revolution brewing, and Chun Hua is right in the middle of it. Xinjiang has struggled for independence from China as long as any man can remember. It is near to reaching its goal of self government, and we are here to make things right.
“There are many Chinese in this area, and Chun Hua is just making sure that they get a fair say in what goes on over the next hundred years. Look at these caves we stand in. The San Xian grottoes have been here for hundreds of years. Ancient Buddhists lived in this area long before the Chinese took over this area, and those Buddhists have fought for generations. First against the Muslims, and then against the Cultural Revolution. They have struggled and endured against all obstacles.
“Angle. You only come here to learn how to fight. For you, the perfection of combat arts is the meaning of your life. While I envy your ability to put life into such a concrete perspective, that path is not for me. Ray. Throughout your life, you have sought what pleasures you the most. Women, vodka, combat, adventure, conquest. Like Angle, your life is focused on on segment of being. How many bottles of vodka do you have in your gym bag?”
“Six,” the Bossman laughs. “I always figured that I should eventually start drinking that ng ka py that’s so popular in these parts. It s got more of a kick than vodka and it’s much cheaper.”
“I am a Buddhist,” Jerry Flynn booms. “I cannot sit idly by as my fellow Buddhists suffer. I am here to make peace. And war, if I have to. I lured you here to exploit your weaknesses and have you fight for me, if need be. I need your strength. Your minds. Your power. I know that you will not resist the opportunity to do battle for a noble cause. Or any cause at all.”
“Well, he sure got me pegged,” the Bossman says.
“Me too. Do we get to kill people?” Angle asks.
Flynn’s eyes become empty and vacant. He walks backwards and to the left. “Rei, sensei!” he shouts.
An ancient man walks in. “I am Chun Hua,” he says, “the greatest warrior to walk the Earth in our times. Even in my advanced age, I can defeat any man.”
“You’re on, old man,” Angle says. He takes up a martial arts stance and watches Chun Hua prepare for battle. Hua closes his eyes and breathes deeply. He adopts a defensive stance, and opens his hands into the grip of the swan. He begins to circle them in a figure eight and he is ready for combat.
Angle doesn’t want to hurt the old man, so he uses about 40% of his energy, striking at his head, solar plexus and floating ribs. Without breaking the rhythm of his breathing or the figure eight that his hands are tracing, the master easily deflects every blow thrown at him.
Angle immediately sees how to defeat this strategy. He ups the strength on his strikes and begins to throw laser quick combinations. Hua blocks every strike without opening his eyes or breaking his rhythm.
Angle knows he can defeat this man. He looks 110 years old and 98 pounds at most. He strikes at the old master as hard as he can. Every blow is deflected with ease.
Angle is angry. He holds his breath and throws scores of consecutive strikes in the shortest amount of time possible. Each one misses. He is breathless, sitting on the floor, unable to continue. Chun Hua is still in his defensive stance, his hands moving in a figure eight.
He opens his eyes. He sees Angle sitting on the floor and regrades him without emotion. Angle stands up, bows deeply and says, “forgive me, master.” He sits down next to the Bossman.
“If all goes well, there will be no combat,” Jerry Flynn says. “If there is, we have... brave souls like you on our side. Still, there will be a need for training. The talks start in two weeks. You have traveled long. I will arrange for quarters for you in the other cave.”
Angle and the Bossman are led through the cave entrance and across a steep ledge to the next cave. The Second Grotto is where many of the warriors sleep. Most are Chinese, and there are a few Buddhist Uyghur in the group. They are each shown a thin blanket on the cave floor.
Angle sits on his and takes out a book, which he reads by candlelight; The Book of Lies by Aleister Crowley. The Bossman takes out a bottle of fine, quadruple distilled Polish vodka, and mixes himself a martini in a makeshift cocktail shaker. He opens up a jar and fishes out an olive, which he uses to garnish the martini.
“Join me,” the Bossman asks.
“Sure,” Kurt Angle replies, “I’m not much of a drinker, but this is as good a time as any.”
“You’ll have to have it straight up.”
“That’s fine. Do you think we’ll see combat?
“I hope so.”
“So do I.”
The men retire. Kurt Angle seeks peace through meditation and Asana. The Bossman does not seek peace. He is sure about who he is and looks forward to the adventure that will come.
The next day, training begins. Chun Hua greets them at dawn and they begin.
“Climb down the cliff,” he says.
“But it’s sheer limestone,” Angle says.
“Don’t worry. We can do it,” the Bossman consoles him. “Come this way.” He leads Angle to the right cave, opposite of where they slept the night before. “We climb up,” he says. Angle obeys without question.
After one hour of climbing, the Bossman says, “we can rest here. We’ll travel 500 feet west, and then descend.
After fifteen minutes, the men continue. Chun Hua watches them with pride. He would never show this emotion to his students, though. After three hours, the men are on the ground. In the meantime, Chun Hua has folded an origami swan. As the men reach the bottom, they can see Hua standing at the edge of the sheer cliff. His long white robes sway in the wind. He drops the swan off the cliff and walks back, behind sight.
It takes a long time for the swan to reach the ground. Angle picks it up, unfolds it and sees a message. He reads it aloud, “come back up. Find a different path.”
“We could climb up the east side, and follow that ridge to the caves,” the Bossman offers.
“No,” Angle says. He walks back and shouts out the words he heard the day before, “Xiaotou zai na lit!” meaning, “where is the thief?” Like the day before, a basket is slowly lowered down the cliff. The men climb in and are dragged up the limestone cliff by a complex system of pulleys.
When they reach the top, Chun Hua appears and emotionlessly asks, “what have you learned?”
“That there is always more than one path to your destination. And usually several,” Angle replies.
“Your training is complete,” Chun Hua says and walks back into the First Grotto. The men retire to the Second Grotto and continue to train.
Will they see combat? It doesn’t matter anymore, because they are ready.
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