Legends of Ogre Gate

by Jeremy Bai

  They’re definitely good, probably not good enough to be considered experts, though, he thought.

  As Sunan watched, he picked up on some of the things that the men were doing, such as where they placed their feet, how they delivered their blows. In many of the situations, he saw how a failed blow could have connected or how twisting in a slightly different way could have resulted in avoiding a strike.

  The two men battered each other back and forth for three rounds before the sailor was finally knocked unconscious by a fist to the side of his jaw.

  As the man slammed face-first onto the fighting platform, a glob of blood flew out of his mouth and narrowly missed Sunan.

  Sunan swallowed hard.

  The following fight was less dramatic but longer. The two fighters were clearly experienced, and they spent a lot of time dancing around each other. Neither of them landed a single blow during the entire first round. About halfway through the second round, someone sat down next to Sunan.

  Sunan looked over to see a skinny fellow with a long scar down the side of his cheek and a mustache with long, curled ends.

  “Hey, kid, you’re the one they call the Dragon, right?” he asked, keeping his eyes fixed on the fight.

  Sunan nodded. “Yeah, that’s me, but you can just call me Sunan.”

  “My boss is Iron Awl Hu. Have you heard of him?”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “He’s an important man in Daolu. We’re aware that you’re new in town, so you probably don’t know the lay of the land here. Let me just spell it out for you: Iron Awl Hu runs things here. The constables, the soldiers, everyone answers to him. Got it?”

  Sunan nodded.

  “Good. You seem like a smart kid. Listen, the man you’re fighting tonight, Wang Li, he’s a friend of Iron Awl Hu’s nephew. I think it would in your best interest to just let him win the fight. Don’t make it seem obvious. Throw in a few good punches and kicks. But in the end, you go down and you stay down, understood?

  “Since you’re in the fourth match, you would normally make 625 spades for losing. We’ll kick it up to 1,000. Not a bad deal, right?” He finally turned to look at Sunan. “You hear me, kid?”

  Sunan clenched his jaw. “I hear you.”

  “Good. Don’t let it go past two rounds.”

  With that, the man stood up and wandered off into the crowd.

  The current fight ended about then, and the third match started. However, Sunan couldn’t concentrate on what was happening on the platform. His mind was working furiously regarding the words spoken to him by the mustachioed man.

  Finally, the moment arrived in which his name was called, but he still hadn’t formulated a plan. For some reason, he wished he could consult Sun Mai about it. Although Sun Mai tended to ramble, and sometimes incoherently at that, he often ended up making interesting points and profound statements.

  As he hopped up onto the platform, he heard a few people cheering for the Dragon, but most were obviously rooting for Wang Li, the so-called Killer of Daolu.

  As Rat-Hearted Li made the introductions, Sunan looked over at his opponent. He was young and well-built, with cold eyes and a mouth twisted into a perpetual scowl. He actually did look like the type of person you would expect to be a killer.

  The round began, and Wang Li immediately went on the offensive, albeit cautiously. Before he could get close, Sunan began to circulate his qi, raising his hands defensively at the same time. He could tell how vastly different this match was going to be compared to his first fight.

  Wang Li was obviously a trained fighter, with experience to boot. However, with qi flowing through him, Sunan didn’t find it very difficult to avoid the man’s blows. The few that connected didn’t cause him very much pain.

  But then one particular jab caught him across the chin, sending him staggering to the left, stars dancing in his eyes.

  How did I let that through? he thought. I won’t let that happen again.

  He shook his head to clear it, then sidestepped to avoid a follow-up blow.

  After some more back and forth, the round ended. Sunan didn’t strike a single time.

  When the second round started, Sunan still wasn’t sure what to do. He didn’t like the idea of throwing the fight, but in the end, he would still make a lot of money. Sun Mai probably wouldn’t object. And it wouldn’t be a good idea to offend a powerful crime lord, which was what Iron Awl Hu seemed to be.

  Wang Li edged forward and began to look for an opening.

  Fine, I’ll just throw the match. It doesn’t matter.

  However, it was in the exact moment that Sunan was about to throw the fight that Wang Li spoke for the first time.

  “Hey, little bitch, where did you learn to fight, some village somewhere? Who taught you, your mother? Or was it your sister? Tell me where you come from so that I can go thank them for giving me such a sissy to fight. Afterward, I’ll make sure to give them a real good time!”

  Chapter 5: Crunch

  Blood rushed into Sunan’s head, and he could almost feel the veins popping in his eyes, causing them to become murderously bloodshot. He had read about something called “killing intent” before but had never experienced it. Village life had always been idyllic and enjoyable. Even the times he had gotten in “fights” with other young boys, it had really been little more than spirited wrestling.

  However, the moment Wang Li mentioned his mother, Sunan understood what killing intent was. His heart began to pound so hard it felt like it would burst out of his chest. His ears pounded with soundless thunder. His cheeks were hot, his eyes burned, and his hands clenched so hard into fists that blood welled up around his fingernails.

  Images of his mother and his sisters flashed through his mind, and they were not the happy images of his childhood. He had not been the type of boy to argue with his sisters, nor the type of son to harass his mother. Tragically, the images which welled up in his mind were that of their bloodstained and ravaged forms lying bent, broken, and burning among the wreckage of his village.

  He had never experienced rage like this before, and the way it burned within him seemed to give him access to a power he had been unaware of before. This was not the power of qi, nor was it some other magical ability. It was something that existed in all people, a fuel of rage that could burn beyond control.

  Sunan could think of nothing else but killing the person in front of him. He forgot who Wang Li was. He forgot about Iron Awl Hu. He even forgot who he was himself.

  Without thinking about it, he circulated his qi, and then, he did more. He summoned the qi that had built up in his body during his time in the Huang Mountains, not just to his fists, but to his eyes and to his feet.

  Somehow the killing intent raging inside of him also burned his mind into a state of clarity. In some ways, he had lost control, but in other ways, he was more in control than ever. His observations of the fights earlier coalesced subconsciously, and he moved his left foot slightly forward. He shifted his weight and twisted his shoulders.

  Based on the back and forth from earlier, he was highly confident that he could predict the speed, direction, and angle that Wang Li would attack from.

  And that he did.

  The qi in his feet allowed him to move faster than he normally could have had he been running, and he took three steps to the left. The qi in his eyes made everything seem to slow down. He could see Wang Li’s angles and momentum, and it was as easy to see where he was moving as it would be to watch a stream of honey flow off of a spoon.

  This time, he timed his movement carefully. Even before Wang Li’s blow sailed past his face, Sunan’s clenched fist began to move. He poured every scrap of qi he could into that fist, into the fingers, and especially the knuckles. He braced his arm, his muscles, his bones, and his flesh, imbuing them all in a way that would both protect them and endow them with ironlike power.

  And speed.

  A crunching sound could be heard as his knuckles made contact with the sid
e of Wang Li’s face. One knuckle hit a cheekbone, another hit the temple. In the end, it didn’t matter. Sunan’s fist was like an iron cudgel, and Wang Li’s face was like a pumpkin.

  Bone shattered. Flesh tore. Blood sprayed.

  Teeth flew through the air.

  But that wasn’t all.

  Sunan’s single blow shattered half of Wang Li’s head and sent his body spinning several times through the air before it landed on the edge of the platform. Wang Li still wasn’t dead yet, and his lone remaining eye stared in shock at Sunan. He reached out shakily as if to steady himself, made a gurgling sound, then died. His body toppled backward off of the platform, leaving behind a streak of blood and gore.

  The rage and fire in Sunan’s heart slowly began to subside. For some reason, he looked out into the crowd and found himself staring into the eyes of the mustachioed man. Sunan held his gaze for a moment while he wiped the spatters of blood off of his face, then looked down at the crumpled body lying down below.

  This time, the crowd did not erupt into wild cheering. Everyone was deathly silent. No applause burst forth from Sun Mai.

  The only sound to be heard were the drops of blood plopping down from Sunan’s fist onto the stone platform beneath his feet.

  ***

  Sunan and Sun Mai sat across from each other, separated by a huge pile of grilled meats and vegetables, none of it touched yet, steaming in the night air.

  Sun Mai raised a bowl of yellow wine up into the air, as did Sunan. Then he looked up at the moon, his expression somber.

  “A bowl of wine, a table of meat,” he said poetically.

  “And a friend like a brother with which to dine,

  “I raise my bowl to the moon up high—” He looked down at the grilled meat.

  “And this poor sheep, which makes us three.

  “But the moon won’t drink

  “And our shadows—”

  Before he could continue with his poetry, Sunan interrupted. “All right, all right! Enough already. To you!”

  “No!” Sun Mai said. “To you.”

  “To us,” Sunan conceded.

  “To us!”

  They downed the bowl of yellow wine and then began to eat and drink voraciously. After a few minutes passed, Sun Mai belched loudly and said, “Sunan?”

  “Yes?”

  “That. Was. INCREDIBLE!” He slammed his palm down onto the table, causing all of the meat to hop up into the air and then plop back down loudly. “I’ve never seen anything like it! What happened?”

  Sunan shrugged. “He said something insulting, and I hit him as hard as I could. That’s all.”

  “But didn’t you hit that other guy as hard as you could? You didn’t… you know…” He held his balled fist up in front of his face and then opened his fingers wide. “Poosh!”

  Sunan grimaced and shrugged again. “I’m stronger than before. I’m not sure how it happened, but… it’s almost like I broke through to a higher level than before.”

  “A breakthrough, huh?” Sun Mai held another bowl of yellow wine up into the air. “Come on, let’s drink,” he said. They downed another bowl together. “You know, even after they fined you for killing ‘the killer,’ we’re still completely rich. And you rose even higher in the ranks! Now you’re only two ranks below the Golden Immortal. Did you see those golden robes he was wearing? I’m telling you, we need to get you some clothes with dragons on them.

  “Do you know where the legends of dragons come from? You might be surprised. I was reading one of the classics the other day, and…”

  Sunan tuned Sun Mai out as he ate and drank. Time passed.

  At some point, Sunan realized that everything had become very quiet. He looked up from a spicy prawn to find Sun Mai staring at him with eyes as wide as the moon. Sunan frowned, and Sun Mai mouthed a word which he couldn’t quite make out.

  “What did you just say?” he asked.

  “S-s-s…”

  “What?”

  “Sp-sp-sp…”

  Sunan cocked his ear. “Huh?”

  “Sp-sp-spear!” Sun Mai choked out.

  It was at this point that Sunan felt something cold pressing lightly in the side of his neck. The tip of a spear. His heart began to thud, and a cold rage welled up in his heart.

  A voice spoke out, oily and vicious. “What. Were. You. Thinking?”

  Even before the owner of the voice strolled into view, Sunan knew exactly who it was. It was the mustachioed man from the tournament earlier. He walked into Sunan’s field of vision but remained a distance of at least three or four meters away from the table.

  “I told you to throw the fight, and you said you understood. Did you? Did you really understand? Apparently not. Not only did you not throw the fight, you defeated your opponent. And not only did you defeat him, you killed him! Splattered his brains all over the platform. Impressive. Very impressive.”

  Sunan looked over at Sun Mai, who was staring directly into his eyes. Ever so slightly, Sun Mai’s lips moved, forming a single word: Fight.

  Sunan nodded almost imperceptibly and began to circulate the qi in his body, sending it into his arms.

  “Iron Awl Hu isn’t happy,” the mustachioed man continued. “In fact, ‘not happy’ doesn’t even begin to describe how he feels. I think that he—”

  In the middle of the man’s sentence, Sunan jerked to the side, twisted, and batted the spear away from him. The man holding the spear was a thuggish fellow, burly, with hands the size of small cats.

  Without the slightest pause, Sunan clenched his hand into a fist and poured all of his qi into it. He bent his knees and cocked his fist, then lunged forward, aiming what he knew was a deadly blow directly toward the man’s face. It wouldn’t matter if his fist hit the man’s jaw, temple, nose, or any other place—the resulting damage would be mortal, beyond the shadow of a doubt.

  Die, you bastard!

  Sunan’s anger, fury, and humiliation burned like fire, fueling his lunge. He let out a shout as he flew through the air.

  And then he found himself airborne, his fist having connected with nothing. His punch had completely missed the target.

  The thug was burly but quick. He easily dodged Sunan’s wild blow and swung his spear in a full circle, slamming the haft into Sunan’s torso.

  Sunan flopped down face-first onto the hard-packed dirt floor. The wind was knocked out of his lungs, and the qi inside of him was sent into chaos.

  Before he could force air back into his lungs, before he could struggle to his feet, before he could do anything, he felt six or seven spearheads pressing into his back and legs and arms. The razor-sharp tips pierced his skin, pinning him down. Moments later, hands gripped him, vicelike and hard as iron.

  He heard a shriek, and his eyes swiveled to the right. Sun Mai was being held tightly by thugs, a knife pressed up against his throat.

  Someone grabbed Sunan’s hair, and his head was jerked up. He found himself looking into the eyes of the mustachioed man.

  The man chuckled. “I’ve seen people like you before, you know. People always come along with some special move, some special weapon, some special poison. It’s nothing new. You’re nothing new.

  “And now, you’re going to do what they all do. You’re going to listen to me. From now on, you work for Iron Awl Hu. When he says fight, you fight. When he says lose, you lose. Got it?

  “You think you’re special? You think you’ve… got what it takes to be your own man?” He laughed and slowly pulled a thin, razor-sharp knife out of his sleeve, which he slowly ran down the side of Sunan’s jaw. “Think again, boy. And don’t forget, you might be able to take a punch or a cut or a stab… but not everyone can.”

  Sunan’s head was jerked to face Sun Mai. One of the men holding Sun Mai looked Sunan in the eye, grinned, and then twisted Sun Mai’s arm. Sunan winced at the cracking sound as Sun Mai’s arm was broken.

  Sun Mai screamed in anguish and began to sob.

  “If hurting your friends won’t
work, there’s more we can do,” the mustachioed man continued. “So, let me say this one more time. You do what we say. You think you’re fast? You think you’re strong? We will always have people who are faster. And stronger. And better. Fall in line, you pitiful bastard. Otherwise…”

  The mustachioed man held Sunan’s hair tightly, forcing him to look in Sun Mai’s direction as the other man holding him slowly drew his own wicked-looking knife out from his belt and then slowly pressed the blade against Sun Mai’s throat.

  Then he pulled Sun Mai’s head back hard, holding it there until the veins and arteries in his neck began to bulge. Sun Mai gurgled and whimpered.

  Then the man slowly began to draw the knife across Sun Mai’s throat.

  Chapter 6: Fingernails

  It would be hard to find someone more different from Sunan than Bao. Sunan was born and raised in a remote village in the northeast. Bao was born and raised as nobility in the metropolitan city of Yu Zhing, at the base of the Banyan Mountains. Sunan lived his young life having heard of the Demon Emperor as nothing more than a vague bogeyman who existed far, far away, if at all. Bao virtually grew up in his shadow.

  In fact, she had even laid eyes on him on more than one occasion. He was ugly. Very ugly.

  Bao was born years after the Demon Emperor had secured tyrannical control over the majority of central Qi Xien. Yu Zhing had been one of the first cities to fall to his initial military onslaught, and the noble clans there had almost universally capitulated. Some, such as the Dongmen and Zhongli clans, chafed under the new rulership. Others, such as the Sima and Gongye clans, thrived. Bao was born into one of those noble clans.

  Eventually, hatred for the Demon Emperor began to come to a head within the city, and after decades of clandestine planning, a full-fledged rebellion was nigh. But then, with no warning whatsoever, the conspiracy was betrayed, and the Demon Emperor sent the Bone General to settle matters.