Shaolin Monk vs Taekwondo Master (HQ)

On The Importance of a Philosophical Fighting Art

The fragrance of flowers … the buzz of bees … the water from springs … all things that fill T’an Tsung’s mind with joy. The elderly monk makes his way to a nearby temple to visit a dear friend. With each step, he becomes increasingly intoxicated by the splendor of the mountain panorama.

So much so that he barely notices the three highwaymen who lurk behind bushes along the mountain path.

Suddenly, the scent of human hostility disrupts the monk’s spiritual wonder and streams chills up his spine. T’an Tsung steps to his rear just as one highwayman’s knife thrusts harmlessly into the air. Meanwhile, the other two highwaymen appear, surrounding him and branding their knives.

“We want your valuables, priest!” demands the outlaw leader.

T’an Tsung exhales gently through his nose. He’s not afraid. After all, life and death are both part of nature.

“But, sir, you already have my valuables. Look about you. Can you not fill your lungs of the sweetness of the air, or feast your eyes on the colors of the butterflies, or …”

“Knock it off, priest!” commands the highwayman, raising his knife. “Butterflies do not fill our bellies. We want the gold tribute you are carrying to the temple.”

“I am very sorry, sir, but I am not carrying such tribute on this journey.” T’an Tsung smiles at him compassionately. “But you have gone to such great trouble to greet me and you should not return empty-handed. Please. Take my clothes and staff as a gift. Perhaps you could sell them.”

The outlaw leader shakes his head, “Without valuables, priest, we want only your life!” He lunges at the old monk with the large knife. But T’an Tsung casually reaches out and plucks the knife from his assailant’s hand as easily as he might pick a rose. The motion disturbs the sleeve of his robe, exposing the dragon tattoo of the Shaolin Temple.

The highwaymen freeze. They stare at the dragon tattoo, at each other, then flee back into the forest like the frightened jackals they are.

The First Shaolin Pope