Marvelous Martial Arts (A Marvel Story)

‘Hidden Dragon, Crouching Tiger’

Looking up at the sign of the dojo, Mason couldn’t help but smile, reading it again. If he had to pick one phrase that screamed martial arts, this would probably be it.

The time for his first lesson had arrived, and it happened to be Tai Chi.

Stepping inside, Mason found himself in a small room. It smelled new, yet the polished wood under his feet creaked from his steps. As for the room itself, it was bare of anything. There were four white walls, a floor, and a ceiling, all wooden.

Mason couldn’t help but think it was a bit of a waste of space, which was quite expensive in Manhattan. It wasn’t that Tai Chi itself, or the master of the dojo, were useless, but more so that if all they needed was a room, they could have set up shop anywhere else.

He did not show any of his feelings outward, however, as Mason bowed slightly at the old man sitting cross-legged at the other end of the room. Despite the fact that the man reeked of alcohol, a habit so ingrained into the man that the very room continuously smelt like it.

The old man swirled the clear liquid in his bottle, which was undoubtedly alcohol, and muttered, ”So you did come back.”

Ignoring the smell, Mason took off his shoes and stepped closer to the old man, staring straight into his cloudy white eyes as he replied, ”I did say I wanted to be taught.”

The old man snorted, which caused him to start coughing and burping. He looked about as undignified as an old man could possibly look, a look that would explain the total lack of students in the dojo.

Mason was intrigued, though. Seeing he was not leaving or saying anything, the old man eventually regained his breath, took a swig out of his drink, and leaned back as he said bluntly, ”Then you made a rather poor choice. Asking a blind old drunk to teach you to fight, you must have a screw loose. Although, now I think about it, it seems to be the common denominator between my students.”

Mason smiled, intrigued rather than offended, and sat down in front of the old man as he countered, ”I never said I was here to learn to fight. I think the drink is dulling your mind, old man.”

The old man huffed before grabbing the wooden stick that had been lying behind him. Helping himself up with it, he slowly circled around Mason, the aroma of what he now recognized to be sake drifting from all over. And yet, this told Mason that despite his blindness and drunkenness, the old man still knew exactly where he was. That was a better spatial awareness than even most people who could see, if they were drunk.

Eventually, the old man spoke up, ”What do you know of Tai Chi?”

Keeping his eyes peeled, Mason did not bother to follow the old man with his gaze, and replied earnestly, ”Not enough not to make a fool of myself. I wish to learn more about my internal energy. My Chi.”

This made the old man chuckle. ”Chi? You are still young and healthy; why would you bother with something like this?” He did not let Mason answer, as he mockingly added, ”Don’t tell me you believe in these trash dramas and think it will grant you supernatural powers.”

Mason concealed a smile as he heard the old man make fun of him. There was a reason he had chosen this dojo in particular, despite the apparent faults in the teacher. Although it worked well in his schedule, if it had been mediocre, he wouldn’t have wasted his time here.

However, Mason’s strong soul granted him stronger senses, as well as a better intuition. And these told him that this old man wasn’t as simple as he looked. Adding to that the fact that blindness and old age were hardly weaknesses to old martial artists in fiction, Mason was pretty sure this old man was a master in disguise.

Of course, he might be wrong, and in that case, he wouldn’t stay for long. Although he had picked ten dojos to train at, he didn’t intend on wasting time. If any of them proved to be a waste of time, he would simply ditch them.

Still, whether the old man wanted to look like an average old man or really was incompetent, calling out on his bullshit wouldn’t do Mason any good, so he instead said, ”I already paid, so do my reasons really matter? All I want is to be taught more about your art.”

The old man stopped behind Mason and considered his words for a moment before asking with a burp, ”Have you ever meditated?”

Taking this as the old man accepting him, Mason nodded, ”I’ve been doing it for years.”

The old man scoffed loudly, mouthing off what sounded like a reprimand or an insult in what he assumed to be Japanese, before spitting out sharply, ”Then empty your mind already, impertinent youth. Stupid!”

Mason closed his eyes, and it only took an instant for the world around him to quieten. In an instant, he reached a state of perfect meditation as he brought his body and soul closer together, his control over them heightening. Years of existing as a disembodied soul did have its perks.

This time, the old man couldn’t help but slip some surprise into his voice as he remarked, ”You’re a strange kid, aren’t you? Did you receive previous training?”

Mason did not reply, prompting the old man to explain, his voice clearer than before, as if the drunk part had been an act all along, ”The body is made of three treasures: Essence,” the old man’s stick suddenly hit Mason’s lower abdomen, harsh enough to hurt. However, Mason had enough control over himself to not allow it to break his meditative state. Moreover, he felt a trace of foreign Chi accompany the hit, gently flowing into Mason’s body in contradiction to the harshness of the hit. It did not go very far, but Mason still managed to feel it resonate with something he could not exactly name.

”Breath,” this time the stick hit his abdominal cavity, and the Chi this time hit something Mason knew perfectly well: his Dantian.

”Spirit,” finally, the stick hit Mason’s forehead, lighter this time, but once again it interacted with another part of Mason, his brain. But not only for this one, but all three; it also hit a metaphysical carrier, each holding his Essence, his Breath, and his Spirit.

And now that all three had been activated by the old man’s Chi, Mason felt like they had entered a kind of resonance, and his Chi naturally started revolving around his body.

Although Mason was already capable of doing something similar, he wasn’t nearly as thorough as his Chi currently was. Curious, Mason extended his influence over his Chi, and with surprising ease managed to accelerate its movement.

Whereas he normally forced his Chi into action, it felt more natural this time, as he only helped what appeared to be a natural process. His Chi flowed through the entirety of his body, not leaving a single corner of it untouched.

After several minutes, Mason’s Chi had made a full circle around his body, returning to its starting point, which was his Dantian, or Breath, and although Mason could continue for several more, he stopped himself.

Opening his eyes, Mason was met by the impassive face of the old man, who was back to sitting in front of him. There was a period of awkward silence before the old man asked, ”Are you a Master of the Mystic Arts? I thought I made it clear I did not want to be bothered.”

If everything that had happened until now wasn’t enough, the old man’s knowledge of Kamar-Taj and sorcerers was enough to tell Mason he really sat before a master.

”I would hardly call myself a master in anything, especially not in something as fancy-sounding as mystic arts. Is something wrong?”

The old man looked clearly at Mason despite his blindness, and said, ”If you couldn’t be called a master in meditation, no one in this world could. I certainly wouldn’t. And even ignoring that, a full revolution usually takes between 45 minutes and an hour. You did it in ten minutes.”

”What do you want me to say? I simply seem to be talented in Tai Chi.”

The old man looked frustrated, but he still tapped Mason’s forehead with his stick, commanding, ”Again.”

And so the conversation stopped there, and Mason resumed his first-ever session of cultivation. It went on for a couple of hours before Mason exhausted all of his Chi, and their lesson naturally came to an end.

This lesson did come with its fair share of discoveries, however, some coming from the old man himself, others from personal conclusions.

While Mason was on his third revolution, the old man spoke all of a sudden, his stick hitting his ‘Breath’, and explained, ”You said you came seeking knowledge of Chi, yet you know nothing of it. Chi is the Chinese name for the second treasure, Breath. Hence, it is only part of a whole.”

This confirmed what Mason had been experiencing so far. Since Chi was Breath, then what he called Spiritual Sense was actually the Spirit. That only left the Essence.

But he was in the midst of meditation, so he could not ask. Meanwhile, the old man went on with his explanations.

”Since you knew so little on Chi, I am going to assume you know nothing of Neidan, or internal alchemy.”

Contrary to what the old man thought, internal alchemy did ring a bell in Mason. Although he did not know what it was exactly, he had a hunch it had something to do with civilization.

And sure enough, he was right.

”In Neidan, the body becomes a cauldron to refine the Three Treasures. You start by laying the foundation, then refining the Essence into Breath, Breath into Spirit, and reverting Spirit to Emptiness, reaching Unity.”

This, Mason guessed, was the usual flowery words he would read in cultivation novels, as cultivation techniques could not just be straightforward. Still, he understood that the old man had just laid out the cultivation realms for him.

It looked like he had found the right place.

The rest of the cultivation session was spent mostly in silence, the old man occasionally dispensing some elderly wisdom upon him, but finding little to no occasions to give him real advice as his meditation form was even better than his own.

Having consumed much of his Chi, Mason left the dojo feeling exhausted, bidding the old master, whose name he still did not know, goodbye.

On his way back home, though, his thoughts returned to the girl he had saved, and who had given him her number. He had saved it in his phone, but had not sent a text yet.

After debating the issue for a moment, he finally decided to send one.

‘Wanna go grab a coffee sometime?’