The other students filed out of the training hall reluctantly, muttering to one another and casting backward glances. A few nodded or smiled at Yin Yue supportively. Others glared angrily at Jun.
Yin stepped up to Jun and spoke in a harsh whisper. “What in Dragon’s name was that for?”
Although they’d been trading blows only seconds ago, Jun now found it hard to look Yin in the face. “It’s nothing personal,” he muttered, even though if he was being honest with himself, maybe it was a little personal. Yin Yue annoyed him, seemed to highlight Jun’s flaws simply by existing. “I want to compete in the Guardian’s Tournament, same as you, and only one of us can go.”
“You’re barely sixteen,” Yin exclaimed. “And you’ve only been training here for what, seven years? I’m the senior student. I’ve been training in Iron Core style since I was six. When the next Guardian’s Tournament comes around in six years, you’ll still be eligible to compete. I’m almost nineteen; this is my one and only chance.”
“That doesn’t mean you’re entitled to be the one to go,” Jun retorted.
“I have a better chance of winning and bringing respect to Master Song and the Iron Core school.”
“I disagree,” Jun replied through gritted teeth, “and I made my case tonight.”
Yin’s face darkened threateningly. He appeared ready to fight Jun again on the spot, but Master Song barked, “Yin Yue, come into my study.” Pointing at Jun, he said, “You wait out here.”
Yin bowed to Master Song and followed him obediently but with obvious trepidation into the instructor’s private study at the far end of the training hall. The wooden door slid shut behind them.
Jun was left alone in the now cavernously empty room. He wondered what time it was. Nearly midnight, he guessed. Outside, Cheon was about as quiet as it ever got, the nighttime peace interrupted only by the occasional clopping hooves and rumble of passing wagons or the drunken shouting and laughter from men stumbling out of inns or taverns. Jun’s father would be wondering why he wasn’t home yet.
Jun slid down to the wooden floor and sat cross-legged with his head resting against the wall. Now that the match was over and all the adrenaline had drained out of his body, exhaustion was taking over and he could feel acutely all the places Yin Yue’s fists and feet had bruised him. Gingerly, he prodded the growing purple lump on his thigh and wondered what Master Song was saying to Yin. He strained to overhear their conversation, but they were speaking too quietly for him to make anything out.
A few minutes later, the door slid open, and Yin Yue walked out. The expression on his face was confusing; he looked neither pleased nor upset, but his mouth was turned down in a pensive frown and his body language as he strode for the exit suggested relief. He glanced at Jun but passed him without a word.
“Li Jun, come in here,” Master Song ordered. Jun got up and glanced over his shoulder, still wondering what had happened as he watched Yin put on his shoes and leave the school.
“Jun!” Master Song barked.
Jun hurried into his instructor’s study and bowed apologetically. Master Song was an intimidating figure to anyone meeting him for the first time: tall and thickly built, with bushy eyebrows and a beard that reached almost to his chest. Decades of Iron Core training had made his limbs as strong and lumpy as ancient oak, and he could probably crush a watermelon with his abdominal muscles. He seemed to fill his study, which was small and orderly. A pool of melted wax shone in the bronze lamp on his desk, which was covered with papers containing detailed martial arts writings and diagrams—the manual of the Iron Core style that he’d been working on for years. The single window was closed against the smoke and ash outside.
The master leveled an impassive stare at Jun. “I’m sending Yin Yue to the Guardian’s Tournament.”
“But I won the fight!” Jun blurted. “I know Yin’s the senior student, but I came out stronger in the beginning of the match, and even though he got some hits on me in the middle, I took him out with that sweep, and I would’ve knocked him senseless in another second if the fight had—”
“Jun,” Master Song snapped. “Be quiet and listen before you speak.”
Jun bit his tongue and bowed his head. “Sorry, Sifu,” he muttered, seething and trying to hold back his overwhelming disappointment. He’d pinned all his hopes on that match. It should’ve paid off.
“I’m sending Yin to the tournament,” Master Song repeated firmly. “He’s the more skilled and experienced martial artist, the best representative of the Iron Core style, and if any young man would make a worthy Guardian, it’s him. But…” Master Song paused and tugged on his beard. “The Guardian’s Tournament is not won by effort or character. It’s an unpredictable spectacle, and there’s a lot to be said for raw talent, drive, and luck. In all my years as an instructor, I’ve never had a situation like this come up before, where I have two equally strong candidates. I’m willing to send both of you to compete in Xicheng.”
Jun dropped to his knees and pressed the top of his head to the floor, barely able to believe what he was hearing. “Master Song, you won’t regret this, I promise I won’t let you down, I’m going to win and—”
“What did I just say about listening before you speak, you blathering monkey brain?” Master Song sighed. “Stand up, for Dragon’s sake, I’m not done. You might not be so thankful when you hear what else I have to say. Between the entry fee and travel to Xicheng, it’s costly to send a competitor to the Guardian’s Tournament. Schools usually send only their top candidate. After sponsoring Yin Yue, the Iron Core school can only fund half the expense to enter a second competitor. You and your family will have to raise the other half of the money.”
Jun swallowed hard. His father didn’t earn a lot at the opera house, but how much had he saved up over the years through his relentless frugality? Would it be enough? The tournament was only a month away. Could Jun quickly find some other work that would allow him to make up the difference?
One thing at a time, he reminded himself. The most important thing was that Master Song had been impressed enough by his performance tonight to send him to the Guardian’s Tournament with the blessing of the Iron Core school. All other obstacles could be tackled starting tomorrow morning. Jun touched his forehead to the ground again before standing back up. “I understand, Sifu. I’ll find a way.”
Master Song gave a nod. “I hope you can count on your father and other relatives and friends to help with the funds, because you won’t have time to work for money. You’ll have to devote yourself entirely to training for the tournament. Simply because you were able to do well against Yin Yue tonight doesn’t mean you’re ready to face the arenas of Xicheng. Between now and then, you’ll need to focus on—”
“You’ll be doing no such thing!”
The half-open door to Master Song’s study slammed open all the way. Jun spun around to see his father in the doorway, his expression set in a furious glare directed straight at Jun.
“Baba, wh-what are you doing here?” Jun stammered.
“You’re late. And you lied to me.” Li Hon glowered with accusation. “You told me Yin Yue would be going to the Guardian’s Tournament.”
“He is!” Jun exclaimed. “We sparred the last round this evening and that’s why I’m late getting home. Yin’s going, but so am I. Master Song can send two candidates. Well, that is, if we can pay for some of the—”
“You are not going to the Guardian’s Tournament,” his father declared with finality.
Jun felt as if he’d been punched in the chest harder than any of the blows he’d taken from Yin earlier that evening. “Baba, please,” he begged, “I’m a good fighter. I have a chance of winning and becoming the Guardian. This is what I’ve wanted all my life, please.” He glanced with embarrassed appeal at Master Song, who’d come out from behind his desk toward the arguing father and son.
“Mr. Li,” Master Song said, “I apologize for keeping your son out so late. I didn’t realize you were unaware of his plans. Perhaps we ought to speak privately. Jun, step outside.”
Jun opened his mouth to argue but, seeing the unforgiving expressions of both his father and his sifu, he shut it again. He stepped out of the study into the main training hall. Master Song shut the door firmly behind him.
Jun paced back and forth like a tiger in a cage, then stood right outside the door and tried to listen in. Unlike Master Song’s conversation with Yin Yue, this time he could clearly hear the raised voices of the men on the other side.
“Master Song, I’m the one who ought to apologize,” Li Hon said stiffly. “Jun must’ve given you the impression that I approve of him going to the Guardian’s Tournament, but I do not. There’s no need to expend any of the school’s funds on him.”
Jun’s heart plummeted into his stomach. Master Song replied, but as he was speaking more quietly, Jun had to press his ear to the door. “I didn’t know you were opposed,” the teacher said. “Jun has always been a committed student of the martial arts. I assumed that was due in part to your example and influence.”
Jun could almost hear his father flinch. “He’s always been the sort of boy who needs to constantly be moving. I’m willing to allow him to continue training here, but with no offense intended toward you or your school, Jun can do more with his life if he takes up a trade that doesn’t involve fighting.”
“No offense intended toward you either, Mr. Li,” Master Song replied, a touch gruffly, “but I’m not sure he can. Your son is exceptionally talented in martial arts. I would go so far as to say he’s a prodigy, one of the best I’ve seen and trained in more than twenty years. Even Yin Yue, the top student who sparred him tonight, agrees we should send Jun to the tournament as a second competitor and double our chances of the next Guardian coming from the Iron Core school.”
Jun reared back from the door in surprise. Yin … had supported him going to Xicheng? And he’d said so to Master Song? Despite how angry he’d been after Jun had beaten him in front of the other students, on the night he’d expected to be the sole celebrant? If the roles had been reversed, would Jun have done the same? An odd mixture of confusion and shame made Jun frown.
“The Guardian’s Tournament is dangerous,” Jun’s father said. “Competitors have been badly injured, even killed, in past tournaments. I’m not risking my son’s life for your school’s glory and reputation.”
“It would be your family’s glory and reputation as well,” Master Song reminded him. “Most fathers would be proud if their son brought the honor of being Guardian of the Scroll of Heaven to their family name.”
Li Hon made a disgusted, choked noise in the back of his throat. “I’ve had honor promised to my family before, back in the East. It didn’t turn out well. A son bringing honor to his family and country is just another way of saying he’s not coming home.”
Jun’s chest clenched, as if squeezed in a giant fist.
Li Hon coughed painfully and took a few seconds to gather his breath again. “Master Song, I’m appreciative of all you’ve done for Jun. Martial arts has kept him disciplined, active, and out of trouble. But that’s as far as it goes. I absolutely forbid him from competing in the Guardian’s Tournament.”
The words rang in Jun’s ears as loudly as if his father had struck him hard across the face. Li Hon wouldn’t do that; he rarely punished his son harshly. Jun realized that he’d mistaken his father’s gentleness for lenience, had believed that it meant he wouldn’t actually put his foot down. Of all the times for Li Hon to take a stand, why did it have to be now? Of all the people to stand against, why did it have to be his own son? The injustice of it brought a surge of heat to Jun’s head that burned the backs of his eyes. It was so damned unfair—to be forbidden what he most wanted because of his father’s old wounds and fears.
There was a long pause from behind the door of the study. Then Master Song said regretfully but with understanding, “Of course, you’re his father. I wouldn’t oppose your parental authority when it comes to what you believe is right for your son. I apologize if I encouraged him in ways you disapprove of. Yin Yue will be a fine representative of the Iron Core school at the Guardian’s Tournament, and as for Jun, I hope he obeys you and seeks out a future you’re both happy with.”
Jun had heard enough. Wheeling from the door, he bolted from the training hall and out into the ash-choked night.