"It was a long time ago. But I am no longer your master," Shifu replied with a frown, not budging a single millimeter.
Hmm, well, since the battle hasn't started yet, we might as well keep talking. Maybe something will come of it…
"On one hand you agree, on the other you deny…" I said smugly, taking a step across the wet tiles. The rain was intensifying, but I barely noticed it. "Perhaps you will answer one question for me, Shifu?" Silence was my only answer. "Twenty years. I waited twenty years. Why did you never once visit me?"
"You are a criminal, Tai Lung! A criminal who betrayed the teachings of Kung Fu. We are no longer bound by anything!" my "former" master practically spat the words.
"Betrayed Kung Fu?" I smirked, though everything inside me tightened. "The path of Kung Fu is a path of knowing oneself and the world. But there is another element without which this path remains incomplete—restraint." I began to slowly circle him, repeating the very things he had taught me. "To master Kung Fu, one consciously restrains one's desires, habits, and words. It is under the weight of these restraints that true character is revealed, and self-control develops like a muscle that is exercised daily. If a student might still falter, a master—hardly ever. The higher the level, the thinner the boundaries." Having finished, I stopped in front of him and continued, looking him straight in the eyes. "All this time, I controlled myself. In prison, when my body was bound by Oogway's torture device that wouldn't even let me draw a breath, and my hands were in shackles tied to massive boulders hanging over an abyss. I kept my head when they tortured me, when they mocked me, I endured hunger…" Hearing this, Shifu flinched; even his mask of calm cracked. "For twenty years I rotted in prison because of your weakness!" It finally burst out of me. Resentment, mixed with anger at the injustice, broke through the dam of composure.
"Obedience to a master is not weakness!" Shifu barked, straightening up. Yes, my state did not escape a master of his level; he clearly felt my instability.
"You knew the Dragon Warrior was me! You always knew!" I took a sharp step forward, and Shifu instinctively shifted his weight to his back leg. "But when Oogway said it wasn't so, what did you do? WHAT DID YOU DO? NOTHING!"
"You could not become the Dragon Warrior! That is not my fault!"
It was a blow to the gut. And even though it wasn't physical, it was no less painful—if anything, more so.
Yes, I made a mistake then, I did something stupid, but I spent my whole life trying to make my father proud! To fulfill his dream and live up to his expectations! And what did I get in return? 'It's not my fault'?
I was simply sent to hell along with all my training; years of deprivation were devalued just because an old, senile turtle saw "darkness in my heart," whatever the hell that was supposed to mean! And what did my father do then? Shifu just stayed silent!
"Not your fault?" I asked quietly through gritted teeth, feeling my claws extend on their own, digging into my palms. "And who clouded my mind? Who trained me until my bones creaked? Who destroyed my destiny?"
"It was not my decision to make then!" Shifu looked away for a moment, but immediately looked back at me, his voice rising to a shout. "Oogway saw darkness in your heart, and by your actions, you proved him right!"
Aha. So it gnaws at you too, old man! You don't agree with Oogway's decision either, but you're afraid to admit it even after all these years.
"Now you decide," I spread my arms wide. "It's not too late. Just give the Dragon Scroll to me. Fix your mistake."
Shifu looked me up and down. For a second, something like pity flickered in his eyes, but it was immediately replaced by icy resolve.
"Where are my students, Tai Lung?" he asked, ignoring my words. A palpable sense of threat emanated from Shifu's figure.
"What?" I blinked, caught off guard by the abrupt change of subject. I mechanically looked around, expecting a trick.
"Where. Are. My. Students." Shifu repeated, taking a combat stance. Oogway's staff, which he had been holding this whole time, struck the wet stone with a thud. "They went to face you and did not return. What have you done with them?"
Ah, so that's it. Although it's strange that he sounds so sincere. Where did those formidable masters go, the ones who left to 'evacuate the villagers,' if not to help their master? Did they really get scared and run away?..
Despite my heavy thoughts, I barely suppressed a nervous chuckle. Does Shifu really think I killed them? And then calmly came to him to demand the title? Is he not seriously underestimating my self-control and sanity?
"Your precious students?" I snorted, regaining my composure. "I let them go."
Shifu's eyes narrowed.
"Lies."
"Why would I lie to an old man who already has one foot in the grave?" I shrugged. "They realized they couldn't defeat me and ran to evacuate the villagers… or so they said."
"The Furious Five would have certainly come to me! I have seen or heard of no evacuation!" Shifu roared. "You killed them!"
He didn't believe me…
Which wasn't surprising, for in his worldview, I am a bloodthirsty monster that destroys everything it touches. Whereas his students are apparently "perfect warriors who would rather die than retreat"!
Damn, they really set me up by running away! It's almost ironic—Shifu is about to try and kill me because I didn't kill the Furious Five. Had I acted like the Tai Lung from the movie—maimed them and sent them back—these problems wouldn't even exist.
"I came for the scroll, old man," my voice turned cold. The talking was over; he wasn't listening, he simply didn't want to hear. "Give it up the easy way. Or I will take it by force."
"You will never have the Dragon Scroll!" Shifu shouted, then lunged into battle.
A View from the Side
On the peak of the high mountain, where the Jade Palace had stood for over a thousand years, only two remained. Teacher and student. Father and son. Past and present.
The downpour had turned the training courtyard into a small lake, and the sound of falling water drowned out all other noise. The world narrowed down to two figures: a short one in a red kimono, and a massive one in simple dark trousers.
Shifu attacked first.
The master vanished from his spot, becoming a blurred silhouette. His wooden staff described a lethal arc, cutting through the raindrops, aiming precisely for the snow leopard's temple. The strike was perfect—fast, accurate, amplified by Kung Fu technique—but Tai Lung didn't even try to dodge; he simply raised a hand lazily.
The moment the wood was supposed to touch his hair, the leopard's claws flared with a bright, rich azure light. The Chi energy surging through his channels erupted outward, creating a visible halo of power.
BAM!
The sound of the impact drowned out the rolls of thunder grumbling in the distance.
Tai Lung caught the staff with one hand. His fingers, wreathed in blue Chi-flame, tightened, stopping the momentum of a strike capable of splitting a boulder as if it were a child's toy.
Shifu's eyes widened. He had expected a block, a parry, almost anything but this—he saw before him not just the raw strength so characteristic of his student in the past, but an incredible control of Chi that had been unavailable even to his comrades from the original Furious Five.
"I am no longer the boy you beat with a stick for his mistakes, Master," Tai Lung's voice rumbled like the thunder that echoed again somewhere far off.
With that, the leopard jerked the staff toward him, intending to rip the weapon away, but the old master held his title for a reason. Shifu did not fight his student's monstrous strength; he redirected it. Using the staff as a fulcrum, he soared into the air, spun like a top, and, kicking Tai Lung in the chest, tore the weapon from his grasp, instantly opening the distance.
They froze. The first exchange was over; the fighters had tested each other's abilities.
Shifu understood: he could not win in a direct confrontation. Tai Lung was younger, larger, and most terrifyingly, he had long ago mastered the Chi that Shifu himself had struggled to awaken. Therefore, the master chose the only option that held even a ghost of a chance—to wear his opponent down, dealing minuscule amounts of damage with every attack while evading everything Tai Lung threw at him.
Having made his choice, he began to circle his student, keeping him at the length of his staff.
Tap.Tap.Whoosh.
A series of lightning-fast thrusts—at the knee, the shoulder, the solar plexus. Shifu moved economically; his technique was dry and honed, devoid of wasted motion or weakness.
Tai Lung, however, seemed only to heat up with every passing second of the confrontation. Every block, every attack left a blue trail in the air, and even when he failed to block a strike, he simply parried his teacher's attacks with forearms infused with Chi, making the sound of flesh hitting wood resemble a hammer striking an anvil.
"You've become slow! Is this all you can do?" Shifu shouted, trying to provoke his former student, ducking under a sweeping claw strike and grazing the leopard's ribs with the staff.
"And you've become predictable! Did you really learn no new moves in twenty years?" Tai Lung growled back.
The leopard grew tired of playing cat and mouse. Ignoring another jab, he concentrated energy in his right fist and dropped into a peculiar stance. The blue glow became blinding.
"Steel Claws of the Leopard!"
Tai Lung struck toward his teacher, and a massive, translucent projection of a leopard, shining with a dazzling blue light, tore from his hand.
Shifu, clearly recognizing his student's skill, leaped away at the very last fraction of a second.
Tai Lung's spectral leopard, missing its target, slammed into a massive stone pillar supporting the awning.
CRACK!
The sound of breaking stone was deafening. The pillar, a man's girth thick, seemed to explode from within; shards sprayed like shrapnel, and the upper part of the structure collapsed with a roar, kicking up a cloud of dust.
Shifu froze, staring at the destruction. A flicker of genuine shock crossed his gaze—not from the sheer power of the technique, but from the fact that it had been artificially weakened. His student, the "insane killer," had intentionally held back the attack on his teacher, which was why Shifu had been able to dodge it at all.
Tai Lung, seeing the master's hesitation, went on the offensive—he accelerated sharply, leaving blue streaks of Chi in his wake.
The distance vanished instantly. Shifu was forced to retreat across the slippery tiles, desperately blocking a furious hail of blows. The staff in his hands vibrated and hummed, taking a monstrous load that would have snapped ordinary wood instantly. Every one of Tai Lung's strikes threw the master back a step, knocking the air from his lungs.
"What's the matter?" the leopard sneered, his eyes burning with the thrill of battle. "Can't handle the pressure, old man?"
The final chord of the series—a powerful roundhouse punch, reinforced by a Chi pulse—caught the very center of the staff.
The wood gave way, snapping in two, and the ancient weapon flew from the master's hands, disappearing into the distance.
Shifu stumbled, his foot sliding on the wet stone. He nearly fell but, through an incredible effort of will, balanced himself, dropping into a low stance.
For a few seconds, teacher and student stared at each other, and then the battle entered a new phase.
Shifu switched to a soft style. He could no longer block Tai Lung's attacks, but he could redirect them. Shifu's palms fluttered, parrying fists aside, forcing Tai Lung to overextend, and whenever a lucky moment appeared—Shifu struck at pressure points. These were precise, stinging finger strikes to tendons, attempting to deaden his opponent's limbs.
However, Tai Lung took these hits with barely a wince, often simply ignoring the teacher's new offensive. The blue aura protected his body, and because of how his Chi functioned, the nerve clusters Shifu was targeting were heavily shielded. When Shifu tried to close in for a clinch, the leopard met the attempts with a raw, forceful break and another spray of blue sparks.
When Shifu realized his strength was fading much faster than his opponent's, he attempted a hip throw, using the leopard's own momentum. However, Tai Lung simply planted his feet, shattering the tiles beneath him, turned, and, grabbing the teacher by the scruff of the neck, hurled him away.
The old master flew a dozen meters and, twisting in the air, landed on all fours directly onto the vertical wall of the Palace.
The rain continued to pour, only intensifying, as if sensing the full fury of the masters meeting in battle.
Shifu ran up the wall, trying to gain speed and attack from above.
"It's over, Tai Lung! I stand above you!" the master cried, landing on the roof.
"Not this time!" Tai Lung roared.
He didn't chase the nimble master. Instead, the leopard dropped back into a stance and began punching the air, sending blue motes of Chi in the shape of fists toward his master with every strike.
Shifu had to abort his attack, dodging a barrage of Chi projectiles, each of which punched through the stone walls of the Jade Palace with ease.
Finally gathering his strength, he pushed off the wall, performing a backflip a fraction of a second before another attack slammed into the masonry, leaving a massive crater and showering the area with debris.
The Palace around them already resembled a ruin—there was that much power in every strike of the masters.
Tai Lung was breathing heavily, steam venting from his mouth. He could have finished this fight earlier, but he didn't want to kill Shifu, and so he spent a great deal of energy just holding back, inwardly cursing himself for acting just like Tigress had recently and not unleashing his style to its full potential.
Catching his breath, Tai Lung drew a deep lungful of air for a final surge, but in that moment, Shifu's experience played its part again.
The master read his student, recalling the rhythm of a fight he himself had once set for this boy.
Tai Lung wound up for a strike, exposing his torso, and for the first time Shifu did not retreat; instead, he lunged forward, diving under the blow into the most dangerous zone.
A sharp, precise two-finger jab into the nerve cluster under the leopard's armpit made Tai Lung roar in pain and astonishment. His arm went limp, and the blue glow around it vanished.
Shifu seized the moment of his student's confusion and surged into close quarters, delivering a series of incredibly fast strikes to the body, knocking the wind out of him and breaking his rhythm. For a heartbeat, his body seemed to glow with a golden radiance, though it vanished quickly.
It seemed the turning point had arrived and mastery had managed to overcome talent…
"You are still the same overconfident boy!" Shifu cried, preparing for the final blow.
"I'll make you eat those words, Shifu!"
Tai Lung did the impossible—ignoring the pain, he smoothly shifted into a stance completely unknown to Shifu. He raised a clenched fist to his chin, tucked his elbow to his ribs, and began to bounce on the balls of his feet, completely abandoning the wide, grounded positions of most traditional Kung Fu styles.
Frowning, Shifu decided to put everything into one attack to end the fight and… missed. His leg cut through the air where his student's head had been a second ago.
Tai Lung caught the master mid-flight with his healthy hand, grabbed him by the front of his robes, and, putting all his rage and strength into the movement, slammed the old man into the stone wall at the entrance to the Hall of Heroes with all his might.
BAM!
The wall webbed with cracks. Shifu slid down like a broken doll, barely remaining conscious. Hesitating, he tried to stand, gasping for air, but his legs wouldn't hold him, and a thin trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth, mixing with the rainwater.
Tai Lung slowly approached him. Having bought some time, the leopard had regained mobility in his limb, and now both his fists burned with a bright, intense blue flame.
He loomed over the defeated teacher, looking down with a gaze of superiority.
Shifu, wheezing, made a final, desperate attempt—gathering the last of his strength, he thrust his hand forward, trying to reach his student's hand for the Wuxi Finger Hold, but Tai Lung lazily, almost dismissively, intercepted his wrist. He squeezed the teacher's hand, forcing him to his knees in the mud, and raised his free fist, which hummed with the concentration of pure energy, for the finishing blow.
Shifu squeezed his eyes shut, awaiting death. He knew this blow would take his head off.
Tai Lung's fist plummeted.
CRASH!
The ground shook. The stone slab ten centimeters from Shifu's ear exploded into a crater; shards of stone scratched the master's face, but he was alive.
Tai Lung slowly straightened, brushing dust from his hand. The light rain, beginning to fade, seemed to wash the blue glow from his palms. The leopard looked down at the defeated master whose life now hung entirely on his mercy.
"I have won," Tai Lung's voice carried over the sound of the passing storm, echoing off the Palace walls.
Even if the leopard showed no emotion, deep down he waited for recognition, hoping the master would finally see him not as a mistake of the past, but as a victor and a worthy heir.
But instead…
The massive doors leading to the Thousand Steps, which had slammed shut during the battle, swung wide open once more…