The next morning, a general alarm flared up in the Eternal Dragon Commune. It seemed, from what the Disciples within could gather, that their Sect was under assault.

Within XJ-V's chamber, it was Little Arha rose first, uncurling herself from the foot of his bed and stretching her lithe body.

"So much commotion does not fit the rise of the sun!" she whined. "Arha wants more sleepy time!"

XJ-V ticked the fluff of her chin and told her to stay put. There was no need, after all, for a spirit to rise and fight.

She pouted up at him but relented eventually, returning to the warm pillows that were pointless to the Cog but bliss to her furry behind.

"Arha is quite capable of deciding these things for herself. Arha will rise when Arha wants," she told him with an indignant hmpf!

And with that, he left the Huli and entered the courtyard, joining the assembly of bewildered Disciples that crowded together as the raucous swept through their domain.

"Good Morning Brother XJ-V," the yawning Mah-Jung said as he approached the throng, hearing doors being thrown open and their hinges breaking.

"Good morning. Brother – what is the source of this noise?"

Mah-Jung smiled, placed a thin finger to his lips, and pointed ahead of the crowd.

"Excitement, XJ-V," he said with a wink. "It is the sound of early morning excitement. The frenetic rush before battle! And I think we should be getting ourselves front row seats."

He grabbed XJ-V's wrist while the latter nodded swiftly, and the pair took into the air. Mah-Jung's feet vibrated against the ground and his robe sleeves billowed behind him like a pair of membranous wings. Both he and XJ-V glided above the crowd while their sea of bemused faces watched them from below.

"The Wyrm-walk," XJ-V said. "To walk upon the air as the dragons of old did. Mah-Jung, you have mastered the technique?"

Mah-Jung smiled back at XJ-V as he brought them down for a landing. "'Mastered' may be a stretch, Brother. But your eyes do not deceive you. I am almost ready for the next stage of Cultivation. Soon this Sect shall welcome a new Mental Master!"

XJ-V considered his Brother's progress. If he had mastered a fourth-level Earth-Grade technique, then that meant his Cultivation level must be approaching the Eighth rank of Corporeal Tempering. Cultivation levels and mastery of martial techniques generally went hand-in-hand. Considering XJ-V had not yet attained Second rank as a Corporeal Temperer, he had to admit he was a little astounded by Mah-Jung's progress. Perhaps even a little envious.

He put such thoughts aside for a second as both he and his companion saw the source of the morning woes – a Disciple from the Tiger Sect had come to visit them.

"Fai-Deng…" XJ-V murmured.

Mah-Jung readied his Prancing Crane.

"If you have come for combat," he said. "You will receive more than you bargained for this time, beast."

Fai-Deng, much to the dismay of both men, completely ignored the taunt and the Wushu stance of Mah-Jung. Instead, he continued to storm through the crowd, his eyes fixated on something in the distance. Something evidently within the Disciple dorms on the east side of the commune, for this is where he was marching.

The crowd followed, no one acting, some chuckling, and some wondering if they should fetch the Master.

"That ungrateful dog!" Mah-Jung snorted. "I will teach him manners. Come, XJ-V, watch a Brother Dragon make this rabid puppy heel."

But XJ-V grabbed the sleeve of his friend as his arm flicked out in anger, and, shaking his head gently, he urged Mah-Jung and the crowd to follow.

"This Tiger has already been burned enough," he said. "I do not think he comes here to make war."

"Well, what then?" Mah-Jung asked, bemused.

Again, XJ-V merely shook his head and led the crowd after the marching warrior. It did not take long for them to catch up with him and, through the shouting of recently risen Disciples in the east block, see that the Tiger had come to pay someone a visit.

He was standing right in front of Feng-Lung's chamber, knocking on the door like a child desperate for attention.

"What is he…"

Mah-Jung was shushed when the door was finally thrown open, and all the gathered Disciples' voices rippled away to silence.

A drowsy Feng-Lung looked out at the crowd, at the stiff Fai-Deng, and then blinked.

The whole assembly – probably every Disciple of the Eternal Dragon across all Cultivation ranks – stood waiting. Watching patiently.

"Arha has decided to join you, good XJ-V! I bet you missed Ar-"

"SHHHHHH!" the entire crowd hissed, including, Arha noticed, her metal-man.

"Well!" she said with a shrug. "Arha has never seen such rudeness! Do the Masters no longer teach proper etiquette to you boys? How is that any way to treat a beautiful spirit like – hey!"

The Disciples had turned away as Fai-Deng finally made a move, and the Huli's voice was well and truly drowned out.

Fai-Deng had bowed before Feng-Lung and assumed the meditative pose of the Tiger, legs crossed, knuckles embedded on his knees, head trained on the feet of the Dragon.

"I have come to repent, Brother Feng-Lung," he said, trying, XJ-V assumed, to ignore the murmurings of the crowd. "By my honor as a Cultivator of Ramor-Tai, I ask for your forgiveness, and for your retribution."

XJ-V's neon eyes double blinked.

He was…apologizing.

The Cog could only imagine the rage bellowing in the young man's heart at prostrating himself so. If he had to guess, XJ-V assumed this was another condition set by his Master. No doubt Yoma-Dur was probably somewhere around, stalking like the spirit of his Sect, laughing at this display.

The crowd seemed quite entertained by the whole affair.

"Grant his what he desires, Brother Feng-Lung!" Mah-Jung called beside XJ-V. "Let him feel the flames of two dragons!"

The crowd cheered at this, exhorting Feng-Lung to leap into a battle stance and strike at the boy's weakest joints, crippling his body and his spirit, both. Only XJ-V remained quiet. His eyes sought out Feng-Lung amidst the chaos of the baying Disciples.

And when he found them, and the youth looked right back at him, XJ-V smiled. They said that mortal men could be possessed by spirits of vengeance. As with many assumptions XJ-V had about humankind, however, Feng-Lung continued to be the exception.

"Rise, Brother," he finally said when the crowd quieted. "I will not strike you."

"Honor demands it," the Tiger said. "I must repent. It is the way of the Tiger. It is the only way."

Feng-Lung sighed, rolling his eyes and watching the crowd once again take up arms, demanding blood.

"Oh, just – just quiet down, please?" he asked, his eyes pleading for XJ-V to help him.

But the Cog's smiling face displayed no intention of stepping in. He felt that Feng-Lung got the point his eyes were making – Brother, this is your burden to bear. You watched me suffer in the rain. This should be an easy enough task for you!

Feng-Lung sighed again, and looked down at the disgraced Tiger who bore his neck beneath him.

"Must I really do this thing?" he asked.

"Retribution must come," Fai-Deng replied. "If you shall not strike me, then I shall flog myself before you!"

"Can a Tiger bite itself?" Mah-Jung laughed, nudging XJ-V. "Have you ever seen such a thing, Brother? You came here from the Wasteland, after all."

XJ-V did not reply. Now, he was totally focused on what would happen next.

Finally, Feng-Lung craned his neck and cracked his knuckles.

"Alright," he said. "Stand up."

The crowd held its breath. Fai-Deng faced Feng-Lung and sucked in the air of Ramor-Tai, preparing for another burn. His charred arm twitched at the memory of his pain.

Feng-Lung's arm rose.

"Here it comes," Mah-Jung whispered. "I always knew the boy had it in him."

XJ-V had to admit that his mouth went wide. If he had breath, he would be holding it.

Feng-Lung's arm came swooping down, aimed right at Fai-Deng's face.

Feng-Lung…

CLAP.

The audibility of the sound was so low that the Disciples began to question if they had heard it at all. Then, they thought perhaps Feng-Lung had used a delayed strike technique such as the Hidden Talon – a real crowd pleaser during the Sect Tournaments.

But XJ-V's smile returned, and beamed into the bemused face of Mah-Jung. He had seen what happened, alright.

Fai-Deng looked at his Brother Dragon with disbelieving eyes. Slowly, his hand reached for his cheek where Feng-Lung had tapped him like a mother does when remarking how nice her eldest boy looks.

"What…" he asked. "What have you –"

"I have maimed you," Feng-Lung replied with an impish laugh. "As you requested. Now, go back to your Sect and attempt to heal from my vicious strike. I'm going back to bed."

With that Feng-Lung closed the door to his chamber and retired until morning meditations would begin, but not before casting a wry smile of his own right back at XJ-V.

See, Brother? his boyish smirk was saying. Some of us mortals know what mercy means.

The crowd moaned its sadness to all the walls of the commune as Fai-Deng briskly turned and walked away, saying nothing to anyone else until he passed by XJ-V's shoulder.

"Tomorrow, Cog," he said. "Remember our agreement."

He walked away without even waiting for XJ-V's reply.

"By the Dao!" Arha gasped. "All that excitement over nothing!"

"I quite agree with the Huli," Mah-Jung grumbled. "I skipped breakfast for this! Perhaps that means nothing to you, XJ-V, but you do not understand the depths of my suffering! How am I supposed to train on an empty stomach?

XJ-V merely laughed off his companion's worries and told him they would go together to see if any Mantou was left in the kitchens. He decided he would let Feng-Lung have some well-deserved rest. Arha, meanwhile, hopped back on his shoulder.

Once again, the boy had surprised him. Once again, he'd shown how much of an oddity he was in this place – full of the ambitious, the eccentric, and the downright insane in some cases.

Against them all only he – an ordinary boy from an unremarkable village of the Wastelands – stood out.

Feng-Lung, XJ-V thought as he hung from his companion's shoulder. Is it luck, or the thing you humans call 'fate' that we met?

He caught himself smiling as the thought entered his head and promptly disappeared again.

After all, did it really matter?

###

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