POV Tai Lung
"Just no torture, Tai Lung!" Tigress declared flatly, making my eyelid twitch with annoyance.
We had just "packaged" the fox-ninja—around here they call them Huli-jing, though to my ears that sounds like a certain Russian profanity, so let's stick to "fox"—and dragged her to an old, semi-abandoned pavilion near where I caught her.
"As you wish," I reply, rolling my eyes and silently cursing Shifu's "noble" upbringing. "Then how about Chi techniques? I have an idea to knock the information out of her. I just need to channel energy into her meridians and—"
"Tai Lung, torture does not bring glory to a warrior," she cut me off, crossing her arms. "There are plenty of other ways to learn what we need without forcing a technique upon her. Not to mention, mental Chi techniques are unreliable. They often reveal what the subject thinks they know, not the reality."
I had to concede that point. Tigress was right.
Local Chi techniques for information extraction generally fell into three flawed categories:
Pain-based: Primitive and crude. It uses Chi to overstimulate nerves. The problem? Victims will say anything—true or false—just to make it stop. Usually a byproduct of high-level combat arts. Mental Intrusion: Allows the user to enter the victim's mind. This ranges from simple surface-thought reading to complex subconscious hacking. It's incredibly dangerous for the "hacker"—you can get lost in someone else's psyche or suffer a mental backlash. The Jade Palace forbids this entirely; even I wasn't taught it. Consciousness Distortion: These cloud the mind, breaking down willpower and logic. The subject begins to babble without realizing it. Effective, but highly restricted due to the risk of turning the prisoner into a permanent, drooling idiot.
Since "magical" coercion was off the table, I had to look for a loophole. It was time to refresh my memory on my own unique arsenal.
I have mastered the Leopard Style to its absolute limit. I've unlocked every ounce of its potential, though the style itself—deadly as it is—only consists of thirty-seven key techniques. Almost all of them are designed for destruction, not interrogation.
However, I hold a trump card. I am the only master in the history of China to have mastered all one thousand scrolls from the Thousand Scrolls of Kung Fu.
The Thousand Scrolls are the collective library of the Jade Palace, currently gathering dust in the back of the Hall of Warriors. Legend says they contain all the secrets of Kung Fu recorded by the Ancestors: combat forms, spiritual practices, unique styles, and weapon mastery.
Sounds like an "I win" button, doesn't it?
It would be, if not for one detail: most of these scrolls are actually Jade Palace propaganda and philosophy disguised as "useful info."
Usually, they are used to test the talent of the youth. An average student masters a few dozen. Geniuses might reach three hundred—Shifu's personal record is 364. I mastered them all.
But what does that actually mean? Do I know a thousand moves?
Hardly. In practice, it means I've internalized about five hundred "wise" philosophical treatises from ancient masters and memorized info on four hundred different phenomena—everything from "the essence of thunder" to the instruction manual for the "Battle Armor of Master Flying Rhino."
By the way, that Rhino was a real piece of work. He was the one who suggested Vachir and his guard act as my jailers and helped design Chorh-Gom. Well, he's dead now. Good riddance.
Only the remaining hundred scrolls contained truly powerful, rare combat techniques. But something useful for our current situation was buried in that mental library...
"You said forced Chi techniques are a no-go, right?" I smirk as the idea hits me. I look at our prisoner, tied to a pillar, staring at us with wide, terrified eyes. "Then how about she agrees to it voluntarily?" I turn to the little fox. "You wouldn't mind answering our questions honestly, would you, assassin?"
"I'm not an assassin!" she squeaked, her ears flattening against her head. "And anyway, I—"
"I just don't want to have to hurt you," I interrupt before she says something I'd rather not hear. "So we'll just ask some questions: were you after our lives? What's your name?"
It was childish manipulation, but in her state, it worked. Fear is a great negotiator.
"I don't mind! I'll talk!" she nodded frantically, catching my bloodthirsty gaze.
I smirked internally. For once, things were going exactly as planned.
"Wonderful. What do you say, Tigress?"
"I still think the info might be unreliable, but we're short on time," Tigress muttered, conceding. She knew we didn't have many options.
"Excellent." I wink at Tigress and turn back to the fennec. "Relax, this won't hurt."
I crouch before the trembling girl and place my hand on her forehead. Her skin is cool and damp with sweat.
A moment later, my hand begins to glow with a brilliant, azure Chi. Streams of energy erupt from my fingertips, weaving into a complex, glowing "grid" that settles over her head.
"The technique is called Mirror of Truth, from Scroll 743. One of the best for a 'soft' interrogation of a non-resisting subject. Developed during the Third Dynasty by Great Master Fenghuang," I explain for Tigress's benefit.
"Fenghuang?" Tigress repeats. "I feel like I've heard that name, but I can't place it..."
"Not surprising." I concentrate on the technique; it's complex and requires high-level control. "She was a member of a previous Furious Five, one of the strongest masters the Jade Palace ever raised. And the first officially recorded 'traitor' in our history. I was the second," I state calmly, finally activating the technique.
If anyone else were in my place, they'd likely be unable to speak—the process is that demanding—but this is where my "genius," my time in Chorh-Gom, and the unique nature of my Chi come into play.
"I... will look into that," Tigress replied, lost in thought.
"You should. But back to our guest," I say, bringing the tsundere (or rather just tsun-tsun, the "thorny" part) back to reality. "How do you feel?" I ask the fennec, whose eyes are now glowing with my azure light.
According to the scroll, the subject feels slightly drowsy while maintaining cognitive functions but loses the ability to lie entirely. The beauty of this technique is that it bypasses most mental defenses by influencing the personality and mind indirectly.
"Fine... just a bit scared and sleepy," the fennec replies, her eyes then widening in terror. She realized what was happening just a second too late.
"Splendid," I rub my neck with my free hand. "Tell us about yourself. What is your name, and who do you work for?"
"My name is Lin," she forced out. It was clear she was trying to fight the control. Did she really think she could? Such techniques don't work well on Chi masters, but it comes down to power levels—and mine was leagues above hers. "My friends call me Lin-Lin... I have been a Junior Shadow in the service of His Highness Emperor Xue Long for a month now..."
"Oh, how interesting!" I slap my knee. "And why were you here?"
"I... was... ordered..." she struggled, tears welling in her eyes. Man, look at me. Am I the villain? Bringing girls to tears, have I no shame? Heh. "I was to... observe you... and report your actions to the Blade Shadow..."
"I see..." I muse over the information.
So, my "dear friend" Xue Xia set a little observer on me, likely underestimating my skills. Not surprising. Back then, I was a fresh fusion of two personalities; I wasn't exactly showing off my full kit.
Tigress suddenly spoke up. "This makes sense. It seems you've been watched since your escape. Another reason to speak with the Master. If you come to an agreement, I'm sure your past sins could be forgiven..."
"Ha, thanks for worrying, Red," I wink. "But let's get back to the questions..."
The morning began with birdsong and a nervous shout in the distance.
Last night, I'd asked a few more questions before handing the girl over to Tigress—letting the "noble" one decide her fate—and retreated to my den.
The results were... unsatisfactory. Many questions were just ignored! I tried to pull info on her specific mission—she'd start to answer, then just go silent! Even though the technique should have made it impossible to withhold info!
Questions about the Shadows' structure, the Emperor, Xue... nothing! Just silence and a guilty, tearful pout. They must have mental blocks against leaking state secrets that my "soft" technique couldn't bypass.
At least I learned she's a fennec, not a fox. That explains the oversized ears and her stealth buff.
Irritated but not discouraged, I stepped out of my house and stretched, looking at the sunrise. The sun was just turning the mountain peaks to gold.
Yawning, I headed toward the kitchen. My stomach demanded breakfast, and I was craving a proper meal, not trail rations.
I pushed open the dining hall door and froze.
The Furious Five were all there, sitting at the long table. They had been talking quietly, but they went dead silent the moment I appeared.
Shifu sat at the head of the table. He looked much better than yesterday: hair groomed, posture straight, his gaze stern but lacking that icy, murderous rage.
Po was busy at the stove. He looked sleepy and disheveled, but he was masterfully tossing chunbing—Chinese pancakes—in a pan, occasionally flipping one directly into his own mouth.
And sitting to Shifu's right was Lin-Lin. She looked completely shell-shocked, which didn't stop her from aggressively slurping a long noodle without blinking.
The silence was deafening. Even Po stopped chewing, a pancake half-hanging out of his mouth as another one he'd just tossed landed square on his face.
But Lin was the funniest—she froze with bulging eyes, and the end of the noodle she was slurping slowly slid back into her bowl under the force of gravity with a soft plop.
"Good morning," I broke the silence with a wide grin. "I hope there's some noodles left for me?"