The great colosseum was empty now, the cheers and gasps of the crowd having faded into a profound, echoing silence. The only sounds were the gentle whisper of the wind through the grand arches and the soft, rhythmic pulsing of the Heart of Heaven itself. Jack Hou sat on the edge of Zephyr, his legs dangling over the side, watching the distant, impossible sunset of their new, patchwork world.
Erlang Shen stood beside him, a silent, armored figure against the twilight sky.
"Do you truly intend to teach your way of immortality to the winner of this tournament?" Erlang asked, his voice a calm, even thing that cut through the silence.
Jack didn't look at him. "Why not?" he said with a shrug. "I've already got two disciples trying to learn it."
"Why?" Erlang's voice was sharp, a surgeon's scalpel probing for a weakness. "Do you wish to lead them to their death?"
Jack's silly demeanor vanished. He stopped swinging his legs and stood up on Zephyr, turning to face the three-eyed god, his own golden eyes now burning with a cold, serious light.
"This kind of act will not dethrone the pantheon," Erlang stated, not as a warning, but as a fact.
"Yeah?" Jack shot back, his voice a low, dangerous thing. "Then what? Do nothing? What do we do, other than fight for a little freedom? What do you do to fight those bastards?"
"I fight to win," Erlang answered, his voice unwavering. "That means I will lose. Over and over again. Until I am ready."
Jack took a step closer, the air between them crackling with an ancient, unspoken tension. "All you do is hide and bank all that hate," he snarled. "While I'm keeping mine alive."
"No," Erlang countered, his gaze as steady as a mountain. "I have kept it alive. But I will only use it when I know what to do with it." He looked at Jack, at the wild, untamed fire in his eyes, and his expression softened for a fraction of a second. "Do you not realize? You are keeping yourself from the very freedom you deserve."
He floated then, stepping off of Zephyr's misty form into the empty air, his silver armor catching the last rays of the setting sun. "It is good that we could catch up like this," he said, his voice returning to its usual, stoic calm. "Tomorrow, an angry child might be the one who comes down here. Just a warning."
"Good to meet you, three-eyes," Jack said, his voice flat.
Erlang floated up, toward the distant, unseen Celestial Court, leaving behind the stern, silent figure of Jack Hou.
As his presence faded from the sky, Jack stood there for a long, quiet moment, the weight of their conversation heavy in the air.
Then, his entire posture changed. The serious, burdened Sage vanished, replaced by the familiar, unhinged monkey. He picked his nose, examined the result with a critical eye, and flicked it off into the abyss.
"Shall we get some food, Zeph?" he asked cheerfully.
The cloud beneath him pulsed, a soft, affirmative shimmer.
Jack's grin returned, wide and full of a glorious, terrible purpose. "Kekekeke, alright then! LET'S GO!"
…
In the cold, spartan halls of the K'un-Zi delegation, Davos roared, a sound of pure, frustrated fury. The heavy stone table, laden with untouched food, flew across the room, shattering against the far wall in a spray of splintered rock and wasted sustenance. The attendants, silent and efficient, moved immediately to clean the mess, their movements practiced, their faces devoid of expression.
The Crane Mother glided to his side, her touch as cold and soft as a falling snowflake as she gently stroked his cheek. "Calm yourself, my child," she whispered, her voice a soothing balm on his raging fire. "The roll of fate has simply made it so. It ensures that that lucky child, Danny Rand, will deserve to fight against you in the finals."
After the third duel had concluded, the rollers had been cast for the semi-finals. The matchups were set: K'un-Lun vs. Peng Lai, and K'un-Zi vs. Z'Gambo.
Davos's ragged breathing began to slow. He calmed himself, his rage cooling, hardening into a sharp, cruel point. A slow, terrible smile spread across his face. "Yes," he muttered, his voice a low, dangerous thing. "That's right. The more hope we give those K'un-Lun bastards, the more satisfying it will be to crush it." He threw his head back and laughed, a high, arrogant sound. "Hahahaha! Those fucks better thank this venerable one for giving them a chance to be in the finals with me!"
…
Meanwhile, Sihing and Jiu Zhizhu walked through the torchlit halls of the Tiger Island delegation. They each carried trays of restorative herbs and energy-rich foods, a quiet, respectful offering to a fellow warrior.
The Matriarch greeted them at the door of the recovery room. She thanked them both, her usual fierce expression softened with a quiet gratitude, and said, "Come in. She is already awake."
Li Hua was propped up in bed, her leg bandaged, her face pale but her eyes as sharp as ever.
"Are you alright?" Sihing asked, his gravelly voice surprisingly gentle.
"I'm okay," Li Hua said, her tone blunt and devoid of self-pity. "Can't believe what the elders say is true. There will always be some nutjob who'll try to kill you even after you yield."
"It seems tomorrow will be another bloodbath," Jiu Zhizhu commented, her voice a soft, silken whisper.
Li Hua and Sihing both nodded slowly.
"Aman said he will deal with Davos," Sihing revealed. "He said his holy city is in need of allies. He thinks he can gain support from K'un-Lun if he… removes their problem."
"What if Aman wins, and Danny wins?" Li Hua mused. "Would Aman yield, so he can still get that support?"
Jiu Zhizhu's lips curled into a faint, knowing smile. "Do you think Zhu Pang She will lose to Danny Rand?"
"Yeah," Sihing agreed. "He still has some cards tucked up his sleeve. And he has far more experience than the boy."
Li Hua nodded, a thoughtful look on her face. She then looked at her two visitors, a rare, small smile on her own lips. "Thank you for coming here. Did you both come because you're losers, like me?"
Jiu Zhizhu and Sihing were taken aback by her blunt, completely unvarnished words.
Sihing was the first to recover. "Even my Dog Brothers don't say such harsh words."
"Yes," Jiu Zhizhu added, her voice a silken, dangerous purr. "If one of my spiders said that, I would have immediately eaten them."
…
The air in the Jade Palace was cold and thin. Erlang Shen materialized in the vast, silent throne room, the shimmering light of the portal fading behind him. The banquet was long over. The only figures remaining were the stoic, unmoving palace guards, the ever-dutiful Taibai Jinxing, and the Jade Emperor himself, seated upon his celestial throne, his gaze distant and thoughtful.
Erlang knelt, his silver armor making no sound on the polished jade floor. "Your Majesty," he said, his voice a low, respectful thing. "I have concluded my conversation with Jack Hou."
The Jade Emperor's gaze slowly returned from the swirling clouds below the palace. "Rise, nephew."
Erlang stood, his posture a perfect, military straightness.
"What is his purpose?" the Emperor asked, his voice a low rumble that held the weight of a thousand years of rule. "What does the monkey want?"
"He is as chaotic as ever, Your Majesty," Erlang began, his face a perfect, stoic mask. "He wears the guise of a Sage, but his spirit is still that of a rebel. The Ruyi Jingu Bang is with him, and his power, though fragmented, is undeniable."
Taibai Jinxing stepped forward, his brow furrowed with a deep, bureaucratic concern. "And this… this offer of immortality?" he interjected, his voice a worried whisper. "It is an unprecedented breach of celestial law! To offer such a thing to mortals…"
Erlang turned his gaze to the minister, his expression unchanging. "It is a grand jest, Minister," he said, his voice calm and utterly convincing. "A ruse. He seeks to sow chaos, as always. What better way than to dangle the ultimate prize before a group of ambitious mortals?"
"A ruse?" the Jade Emperor asked, a flicker of something—disbelief, hope—in his ancient eyes.
"Yes, Your Majesty," Erlang confirmed. "Does he even possess the true method? His own path to immortality was a fluke, a chaotic combination of stolen peaches and celestial pills. It is not a technique that can be taught." He let the words hang in the air, a perfect, logical dismissal of the threat. "He will not give the winner true immortality. He will give them a trick. A cursed artifact, perhaps. Or a single, stolen peach that grants a few more years of life. It is a game to him. A way to mock the champions of the Seven Cities and, by extension, to mock us."
The Jade Emperor leaned back on his throne, a slow, dangerous smile touching his lips. "A ruse… yes. That sounds like the monkey."
"So, what are your recommendations, General Erlang?" Taibai Jinxing asked, his posture relaxing slightly.
Erlang turned his gaze back to the Emperor, his final, masterful move in this game of deception. "We wait," he said, his voice a calm, strategic thing. "We observe the tournament. Let him play his game. When he reveals his 'prize,' and it is proven to be a farce, his credibility as a Sage will be shattered. The mortals will see him not as a god, but as a cheap trickster. In his attempt to build a legend, he will have defeated himself."
The Jade Emperor was silent for a long, thoughtful moment. He looked at his nephew, at the perfect, loyal soldier standing before him.
"Very well," he finally declared. "Let the monkey hang himself with his own rope." He waved a dismissive hand. "You are dismissed."
Erlang Shen bowed low one last time. He turned and walked out of the throne room, his steps measured and calm, his stoic mask perfectly in place. He had bought Jack Hou the time he needed, a quiet, unseen act of rebellion right under the nose of the heavens themselves.
…
In a bustling, makeshift marketplace in the K'un-Lun section of the Heart of Heaven, a disguised Jack Hou was putting on a clinic in competitive eating. High above, Zephyr, his loyal cloud, was gleefully chasing the giant black pigs of Peng Lai, who had wandered across the invisible border.
"Kekekeke, keep 'em coming, uncle!" Jack slurped down another massive bowl of noodles, adding the empty dish to the teetering tower of plates beside him. The old man running the food stall just laughed, his movements a blur as he kept the food coming.
Finally, Jack stopped, a look of profound, satisfied bliss on his face. He reached into the bundle of money he carried and was about to pay when his fingers brushed against a familiar, crinkly paper wrapper. He pulled it out. The packet of haw flakes from Erlang. He rummaged past it, pulled out a handful of currency, and slammed it on the counter. With a sharp whistle, he leaped into the air, and Zephyr, abandoning its pig-chasing duties, swooped down to catch him mid-flight.
As he soared above the bustling convergence, he tore open the haw flakes and began to eat them, a thoughtful, distant look on his face.
"That three-eyes has some sense, huh?" he muttered to Zephyr. "Kekekeke."
He finished the last of the sweet and sour flakes and was about to toss the empty wrapper when he felt something inside. A small, hard fold in the paper. He carefully unrolled it.
Inside, written in a fine, elegant script, was a single message. A location.
'Cape Matapan'
Jack stared at the words for a long, silent moment. A slow, wicked grin spread across his face, a look of pure, unadulterated understanding. He then threw his head back, and his laughter, a glorious, booming, and utterly unhinged thing, echoed through the impossible sky.
"KEKEKEKEKEKE! That three-eyed bastard! You want me to owe you something, huh?!"
**A/N**
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**A/N**