Remember More

Chapter 38

REMEMBER MORE

CHAPTER 38

It wasn't easy, at least not at first. John was not used to sparring using his hearing only and nothing else. But after a few minutes, he began getting used to it and he could make out where Zhang was by the flutter in his clothes. And then it was the flutter in his sleeves and pants and John could tell when the old man's hits were coming and from which direction. He blocked and responded accordingly.

Just when John was starting to feel more confident with what he was doing, Zhang changed his routine. The old man began infusing his clothes with qi so he could have absolute control over their movement. Now, when he flew around or moved his arms and legs, his clothes stayed still. No more fluttering.

John frowned to himself in the darkness. "What the…?"

Zhang dove in. A good strong knee into the stomach.

"Argh!" John bounced away, not so much hurt as he was puzzled. "What did you do? Did you…?" But of course, John had already figured it out. He could sense what Zhang had begun to do.

Zhang raced in once more.

John turned his head. He cranked up his hearing sensitivity.

But it was no use. Zhang was too fast. Another two blows landed.

Though frustrated, John tried to keep his wits about him. He backed himself up against the wall so Zhang couldn't come at him from the back. He kept his arms up for protection.

And Zhang just kept coming. A punch to the left, and then the right. Then up at his head. The next one below.

By this time, John was learning to pick up not on the sound of Zhang's clothing anymore because that had disappeared completely, but just on the movements of air that came with the old man's every body movement. Because the master's attacks were so hard and so fast, the air pressure building up in front of them was tremendous and John could actually hear it as the strikes came flying in. John tuned in his hearing for the air pressure. He began to dodge and counter again.

Zhang saw what was happening. He stopped his assault and drifted away a few feet. "I see."

Both men hovered for a moment, staying still. Zhang kept his hands to his sides. A smile was on his lips.

John held his fists up, on guard, waiting. "Come on, then. What else you got?"

Coming to a decision, Zhang turned to something new. He began floating in. Slowly.

"Well?" John couldn't tell the old man was approaching. He couldn't sense him at all.

Zhang continued to drift in, like the tide. He held his breath. Lifting one hand, he held it out there in front of him, straight ahead, steady and still. He continued to ease in toward John like that, statue-like, until his extended palm was but two inches away from John's abdomen, and then he stopped.

He called forth his qi. Enough so his hand swelled up a touch.

He let it loose into John's stomach.

John was squashed.

He was caught between the blast and the wall behind him, like a fly beneath a flyswatter.

The stone behind him crumbled. Dust puffed off in plumes. The air whooshed out of John's lungs and he crumpled toward the ground. It was a long way down.

Boom! He landed in the dirt. He lay there for the moment with his face on the cold, hard stone. He opened his mouth. He retched. Some unnameable liquid spilled out and he was happily surprised that his stomach hadn't come up with it too.