The Final Fight

With the smallest flick of his fingers, the Master sent the guards scurrying away. “Do you mean to fight me, then?”

Ye Chin furrowed his brow. “Yes,” he said, feeling weak in the knees.

The Master sighed, stood up, and began gathering his blankets and cushion.

“What are you doing, Master?”

“Getting my withered keister out of here before I get killed.”

“But… all your victories… dozens of defeated champions…”

The old man glanced over his shoulder. “Congratulations. You exposed the fraud. The seat is yours.” He heaved his bundle over his shoulder. “Good luck, kid. You’re gonna need it.”