Jun caught Ren as soon as she stepped away from the arena. Taking her by the arm, he steered them both away from the hubbub and behind the competitors’ pavilion.
“What was that about?” he demanded.
She gazed at him calmly. “Don’t you like your new name?”
“I … Yes, but…” He frowned, not sure if he should be thanking Ren or getting angry at her. He couldn’t manage to stay incensed, not with her smiling at him as if she were amused by his reaction. “It’s … a lot, don’t you think? Why did you make a scene? I was fine not having a martial name.”
He did like the name, though, the way it sounded so grand and intimidating when shouted out by the announcer. It made him feel as if he were walking on air and breathing sunlight as he left the arena. It also made him distinctly uneasy, as if he’d suddenly been given a crown without asking for it, one that sat heavy on his head no matter how rare and shiny it was.
Ren gave him a skeptical look that suggested not only that he was being ungrateful for what she’d done, but that he was missing the point entirely. She leaned in. “Leopard and Ghostface are the two competitors people are talking about the most right now. If you’re going to be a contender, you need to stand out.”
“The Guardian’s Tournament isn’t a popularity contest,” Jun countered. “It doesn’t matter who the crowd favors or who has the best name. It only matters who wins in the arena. Besides, Ghostface was injured and hasn’t been seen since.”
“If he’s gone, people will look for another contender to support,” Ren insisted. “When I’m performing, I can feel the energy of those watching. Not to the extent Sifu can; I don’t have his ability to see Breath. But every actor knows the Breath of the audience matters. It affects what happens onstage. You want them on your side.”
“This name paints a giant target on my back.” Claiming a personal connection to Dragon was tantamount to declaring oneself a god on earth, akin to royalty. Taken in the wrong way, it might even be interpreted as a treasonous overstep. Only the emperor was allowed to call himself the Son of Dragon.
“You didn’t give yourself the name. Your supporters did,” Ren reminded him. As if that was going to be a viable defense if Cobu and the Sixth Division decided to make an issue of it. Ren stepped closer to him, taking his arms. “The people need someone who inspires them. Someone who they can imagine as the Guardian.”
Jun kept his arms limp. “What about Prodigy Yin?”
Ren let go of him. “I can support both you and Yin Yue.”
“Not for long. In the end, only one person can be the Guardian.”
A group of men in red scarves sauntered past on their way to Leopard’s match. Ren drew Jun aside and waited until Cobu’s supporters were past. “If you and Yin Yue meet in the finals, it would be the best outcome for the country. It would mean whoever becomes the Guardian will preserve the integrity of the position instead of enabling the man who wants to drive the West to war.” The glare Ren gave him was stern and uncompromising. “That’s the outcome I’m rooting for. I don’t need to choose between the two of you for it to happen.”
SUPPORTERS of the Tiger Spirit Combat School were out in full force, chanting and waving orange and black banners. Jun jostled his way to the sidelines of the Blue Arena in time to see Leopard emerge from his private tent, bare-chested, prowling toward his first fight of the day like a hungry animal at feeding time. The glare of contempt he turned on his opponent’s cheering section was so murderously frightening that for a second the drummers and bannermen faltered in their noise and movement before bravely resuming. “Tiger Shu! Tiger Shu!”
Jun felt an odd desire to run over and join the Tiger Spirit crowd and cheer alongside them. Considering he’d eliminated one of their candidates yesterday, he didn’t think he would be welcomed. Still, he respected the Tiger Spirit students and was glad to see Peng sitting outside the arena and shouting encouragement to his classmate. They came from a big, arrogant, rigid school, but it was hard not to admire their strength and support of one another. They truly did live up to their school name, in physical ferocity and mental toughness.
Shu walked into the Blue Arena to face Leopard with his head held high, his stare proud and fearless. When the gong sounded, Leopard leapt at his opponent with vicious roundhouse punches and flying knees, a snarl issuing from his lips. He was met and buffeted back by an equally furious storm of rapid counterpunches and blistering shin kicks. Shu was, astonishingly, even more impressive a fighter than Peng, with the same explosive speed and power but even greater reach and strength.
Jun tried to pay close attention to Leopard. He was here, instead of standing with Ren on the sidelines of Yin Yue’s match, because he needed to learn as much as he could about General Cobu’s pit fighter if he was going to face him later. But it seemed he might not have to bother. Shu was minimizing Leopard’s attacks with tight blocking and doing damage in turn with relentless but patient body blows. No doubt he’d seen or heard what happened to Savage Ma yesterday and wasn’t about to rush into the same fate by being heedless and giving Leopard a chance to get too close.
It all went wrong in an instant.
One of Shu’s powerful roundhouse kicks connected hard and knocked Leopard to one knee; seeing the perfect chance to end the fight, Shu went in for the finishing blow.
Leopard scooped up and flung a handful of gravel and sand straight into Shu’s face. Startled, Shu reared back. Leopard sprang up, seized the other man’s head by a fistful of hair, and, with a guttural bellow, jabbed his first two fingers into Shu’s left eye socket.
Shu screamed. The entire audience, even the ones wearing red scarves in support of General Cobu, sucked in a horrified gasp. Shu stumbled back, a hand clapped to his face. Blood streamed down his cheek.
Leopard flicked pulpy gore from his fingers and came in with a high kick on Shu’s blind side, dropping the maimed man to the ground.
Shu threw his free arm over his head in a clear sign of surrender. “Enough! I yield!”
Leopard’s momentum didn’t change; his next blow came down just above Shu’s elbow. Unlike Savage Ma, Shu’s bones were those of an ordinary man, easily broken. His arm buckled like a practice board, caving in at the joint with a sickening snap that Jun heard from the sidelines.
Shu fell, clutching his broken limb to his body, his one remaining eye wide with pain and fear. “The victor is Leopard, by surrender!” exclaimed the arena announcer, desperately and with no apparent effect, as Leopard took another step forward, eyes alight with murderous savagery. Against the rules, Shu’s two Tiger Spirit classmates ran shouting into the arena to defend him, but they were too far away to make it to the fighters in time. Jun braced himself to witness the worst.
Leopard hesitated. He glanced up at the platform, like a dog cocking its head at its master.
From where he was seated above the arena, General Cobu gave a small shake of his head.
With reluctance, Leopard lowered his arms. No one could doubt that even with his opponent helpless in surrender, he’d meant to take Shu’s life. Only his sponsor’s wishes kept him in check. Leopard wasn’t fighting simply to win. Perhaps he didn’t even care about becoming the Guardian. He was in the arena to kill.
“You fought well, but you are not a real warrior,” he rumbled to Shu in disdain. It was the first time Jun had heard the man speak. A deep, hoarse rasp, as if his throat had been damaged long ago and never fully healed. “For a real warrior, there is no surrender. Only victory or death.”
Shu’s teammates rushed to pull him away before Leopard could change his mind, but Cobu’s fighter had already turned to leave the arena. As he passed Jun, their eyes locked for an instant.
A shiver traveled down Jun’s spine, but he refused to look away. He gazed back with challenging calm as Leopard assessed him briefly, making note of him as future prey. Up close, Leopard seemed somehow more human and less human at the same time. Jun could see his many scars, the knobby nose and fingers that spoke of previous breakages, the hunched posture of a man who’d survived hard labor for years and kept his head down to avoid unwanted attention from those more powerful. Yet his outsized presence at the tournament was dark and magnetic, and it was impossible to forget how easily he killed.
I’m going to beat you, Jun vowed. You’re an animal that needs to be put down.
Leopard walked back to his tent. The two attendants Cobu had assigned to him quickly pulled back the flap and the man disappeared from view.
“Li Jun from Cheon?”
Jun turned at the sound of his name. A servant boy in unfamiliar livery bent over, catching his breath, having apparently run all throughout Warrior’s Park. “I have an urgent message to deliver to the Guardian candidate Li Jun,” the boy insisted.
“What is it?” A spike of worry made Jun’s heart jump. “Did Sifu Chang send you?”
The messenger shook his head, still breathing hard. “Your father is here.”
“He’s what?” Jun spun around, half expecting to see Li Hon appear behind him, his weathered face set in a glower of scathing parental disapproval, intent on seizing his son by the ear and dragging him out of Warrior’s Park and back to Cheon. “How did he find me? How’d he get here?”
A defensive speech began to rapidly assemble itself in Jun’s mind. Even if his father hadn’t been fooled for long by the letter he’d left behind, he hadn’t imagined that he would actually come all the way to Xicheng.
Baba, please. I was wrong to disobey you, but look, I’ve won all my matches so far. I can’t leave. I won’t. Baba, you don’t understand, this is the most important thing to me. And for the country! Just give me a chance and I’ll show you what I can do.
“I came straight from the Tranquility Boarding House. Your father was brought there this morning.” The messenger boy’s voice turned grave. “He’s very ill.”