“You don’t even know who you are!” Shen screeched, dodging a Wuxi Finger Hold. “You are nothing! A mistake left in a box!”
Po didn’t run. He walked straight toward the cannon. Shen laughed. “Finally accepting your death, panda?”
He remembered his mother’s face. He remembered Mr. Ping’s noodle soup. He remembered Shifu’s patience. He remembered the Five’s trust. He cupped his paws together, not to block, but to hold .
Po sobbed. For the first time, he didn’t feel the pain of abandonment. He felt the weight of sacrifice. His mother didn’t throw him away. She saved him.
That night, Po sat on the roof of the Jade Palace. The stars were out. He no longer felt a hole inside him. He felt a garden. And in that garden, a peach seed was finally beginning to grow.
He stood up.
Shifu sighed. He hopped down, landing as light as a falling leaf. “Your next lesson is not in the physical. It is inner peace .” He tapped Po’s chest. “To stop a weapon like Lord Shen’s cannon, you must first stop the war inside yourself.”
The fight was a blur of fists and tail feathers. But Shen was cunning. He didn’t fight Po’s strength; he fought his mind. Every strike, every taunt, was a needle into the old wound.