“Wrong question. Throw away your assumptions about the coming battle. You are not going to be fighting humans. These creatures will be stronger, and you will need to use your center of gravity and the strength in your hips to move them. Because they will move differently. The defenses you know will only be partially effective against them.”
“What sort of creatures are we talking about?”
“Elongated arms, and more than two. Razor wings. Some have tongues like frogs but not sticky: They are stiff and pointed at the end, and they use them to pierce your body.”
“Lovely. Are these Buddhist demons?”
“Some. Only some. The hells of the ten Yama Kings are a blended realm.”
I squint at him, imagining a chunky demon puree. “How do you mean, blended?”
He cocks his head at me, scratches his chin. “Ah. My words fail. Take me as an example: I learned many of my tricks and skills from Taoist masters. Gradually I came to Buddhism and embraced that, but without rejecting my Taoist teachings. And many people in Taiwan, Hong Kong, and China also harbor beliefs from Confucianism. All three living in the same house, in harmony. Many shrines reflect this. You have an English word for this that escapes me now. This blending of faiths without conflict.”
“Does Sifu Sun perhaps refer to religious syncretism?”
“He does! I mean, I do. This might be strange to you from the West, where people think you must believe only one thing, but in the East we have no problem with this.”
“I have no problem either, Sifu. I am a student of religion and philosophy.”
“Excellent. So as it is in the shrines and the heavens, so it is in the hells.”
“As above, so below?”
“Precisely. You will encounter Taoist monsters and Buddhist demons as well. You may encounter hybrids of the two. And they will not fight like anything you have seen before. So you must fight like them, a blending of styles, ignoring adherence to this form or that and focusing instead on the pure expression of battle demanded by your shifting opponents. We will begin with this stance but flow into other forms from here and return.”
“I understand now, Sifu.”
“Begin. Attack and let me demonstrate the advantages of this stance.”
He establishes a pattern of having me attack first from different positions while he displays the defense and counterattack, then switching roles so that I must learn and execute the moves flawlessly as he attacks. We do this while the battle rages over Yangmingshan. He pauses when Seven Star Mountain erupts anew with an entirely different horde. It looks…chunkier. Larger demons, perhaps. But mixed with smaller bodies that may be human.
“The second Yama King has come,” he says, and pulls out another tuft of hair, making even more copies of himself. They immediately launch themselves through the air to join battle in the north.
I hear some exclamations and raised voices floating up from the streets below. People in the city are becoming aware that something untoward is happening.
“I’m worried about widespread panic as much as the demons,” I tell him. “There will be traffic accidents and tramplings and who knows what else before the demons ever get to the population.”
“Yes. That is the way of people who are not at peace. But we will try to keep the demons confined to Yangmingshan and minimize the loss of life.”
“And if we cannot?”
“Then a great many people will be moving on to Samsara, the Great Wheel.”
“Sifu, I have a question. I am able to make myself invisible due to the bindings on my staff. Will that not render these defenses pointless, since my opponents will not be able to see me?”
“You will be as plain to them as the sun in the sky. Your binding will not matter to them. They will not be using human eyes to look at you, after all. These creatures from the hells can pierce all veils.”
“Oh.”
“Now, concentrate. The same sequence again. Show me you have mastered it.” And he launches himself at me in a blistering fury of strikes from both low and high angles that I must defend from my middle.
My instruction continues until the third Yama King arrives and the Monkey King sends out even more clones. I’m exhausted and my fingers are blistered and chapped from my staff. I’ve had no contact with the earth in all these hours, and my energy is dangerously low. I don’t know how much use I’ll be without some time to heal and recharge.
“That is all,” Sifu Sun says after his third batch of clones departs. “I can extend myself no more. And you are tired. Also, the time grows short. Let us return to the shop.”
“Thank you for the instruction, Sifu.”
“You are welcome. But I am no longer your teacher, so you may call me Wukong again.”
The shop is cleared of customers when we get down there. There are only a few employees left, arguing loudly in Mandarin about something. Wukong’s voice cuts through theirs and ends it. He dismisses them and they exit out the entrance, still in their human guises, to go who knows where to enjoy the apocalypse. Wukong locks the door behind them, displays a sign that I assume means CLOSED in Mandarin, and pulls down blinds so that no one can see us through the windows. Then he turns and grins at me. “Ready for some bubble tea?”
“Seriously?”
“A different flavor this time. Something special.”
“All right. Then what?”
“Then we go to fight at Yangmingshan, and we live or we die.”
“Can you die?”
The Monkey King laughs as he moves around to the tea-making station. “I admit the odds are in my favor. But I suppose it is possible. And if it does happen, well, I have a pretty good idea that my afterlife will not be so bad. How about you?”
“You’re asking what I expect in my afterlife? My karma points, or whatever?”
“Yes. I speak of karma.”
“Well, I never put my seat back when I’m flying coach and thereby invade the space of the person behind me.”
“I am not sure what flying coach means,” Wukong says, “but I am glad to hear that you do not invade the space of others.”
“Yes! I have long thought that reclining your seat on an airplane is a sure sign of moral turpitude! Unless of course there is a spinal or other medical condition involved. Uh…what are you doing there?”
Sun Wukong slaps the wall with his knuckles in a sequence that’s clearly designed, and once he completes it, a panel slides to the left and reveals a hidden wall safe. He spins the dial and smirks at me over his shoulder. “I am getting the special ingredients for your tea.”
“You have some kind of food in a safe? Is that, uh…safe?”
“Yes. You may relax and depend on my methods of preservation.”
“Of course. Yes.”
A click and a twist of the handle and the safe swings open to reveal a glass container with a lid on it. No bearer bonds. No blocks of illicit drugs. Just a covered bowl of fruit, which Wukong removes with reverence. “Ahh. Do they not look marvelous?”
I am not sure what I’m looking at. Slices or wedges of pale yellow fruit. “Are those mangoes? Papaya?”
“No. These are Immortal Peaches.”
I blink and look up at him, then back at the fruit, and back at him. “Immortal Peaches. Like the ones you stole thousands of years ago to extend your life. Upsetting the heavens.”
“The very same. But taken with permission this time.”
“And you’re going to make bubble tea out of those?”
“Precisely!”
“For me?”
“Indeed!” He puts the bowl down on the prep area and uncovers it, and the most exquisite smell of peaches wafts about the room. I close my eyes and simply smell it. Divine.
Some blending happens after that. Some sloshing noises and the crisp snap of a plastic lid on top of a cup.
“Here you are,” Wukong finally says. I open my eyes and behold a yellow-orange liquid. “Your original order: Immortal Peach bubble tea.”
“Oh, my goodness. Thank you.”
I take it carefully and bow to him and he nods in return. He offers me a straw and I stick it through the little hole in the lid and sip. It is the most exquisite taste to ever roll across my tongue. I know I shall forever eat peaches hoping to taste the memory of this drink, and they will never compare.