"Lights! Camera! And... ACTION!"
The renovated main hall was blazing hot under the studio lights. A crowd of "disciples" (extras paid $50 a day) stood in a semi-circle, looking appropriately nervous.
Wei stood in the center, wearing his sect robes (newly dry-cleaned). He looked calm. Bored, even.
Opposite him stood Jax "The Hammer" Reynolds. The makeup team had applied extra oil to his chest. He looked like a glazed ham with anger issues.
Jax swaggered forward, following the script the producers had blocked out on the floor with tape. He stopped exactly on his mark.
"Yo," Jax announced, puffing out his chest. "Bruce Leeroy!"
Wei blinked. "My name is Han Wei."
Jax ignored him. He cracked his knuckles (a sound effect added by him popping his own joints, which sounded painful).
"I hear you know kung fu," Jax sneered, delivering the line with the subtlety of a car crash.
Wei sighed. He looked at the camera. He looked at Sarah, who was standing off to the side, giving him a 'thumbs up'.
"It is not 'Kung Fu'," Wei corrected politely. "It is called the Way of the Crane. Though, specifically, I am practicing the azure variation of the..."
"Whatever!" Jax interrupted, stepping closer. He got right in Wei's face. Wei could smell protein powder and mint gum. "I challenge you!"
This was the cue. The script called for Wei to look intimidated. The script called for Wei to back down, setting up a redemption arc for later in the season.
Wei did not back down.
He looked at Jax. He looked at the man's stance (wide open), his breathing (shallow), and his eyes (clouded with vanity). In the Cultivation World, such a challenge from a junior of this level was not just rude. It was suicidal.
Wei narrowed his eyes. The temperature in the room seemed to drop three degrees.
"Junior," Wei said, his voice low and resonant. "You court death!"
"CUT!"
The Director jumped out of his chair. "YES! BEAUTIFUL!"
Marcus ran onto the set, waving his hands. "That line! 'You court death!' It's gold! It's retro! It's campy! I love the intensity. Jax, you look confused. Keep that! It reads as 'fear masquerading as arrogance.' Perfect!"
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Jax broke character. He looked at the Director, then down at Wei.
"Wait," Jax said. "That wasn't the line. He was supposed to say 'I don't want any trouble.'"
"Screw the line!" Marcus yelled. "This is better. Wei, can you give me that 'Death Glare' again? Maybe point a finger at him?"
Wei looked at his finger. He looked at Jax's forehead. He calculated the density of the man's skull.
"I can," Wei said. "But if I use the Finger of Judgment, he may experience a nosebleed."
"Even better!" Marcus squealed. "Method acting! Alright, reset! Let's do the physical confrontation. Jax, shove him. Really sell it. Wei, you... well, you be the rock."
"A rock," Wei nodded. "I can do this."
They reset. The clapperboard snapped.
"ACTION!"
Jax snarled. "You talk big, little man!"
He lunged forward, placing both hands on Wei’s chest to shove him backward. It was a move Jax had used in three bar fights and one amateur wrestling match. It relied on mass and surprise.
Jax shoved.
Wei did not move.
He didn't lean forward. He didn't brace his legs. He simply... existed. His feet seemed rooted to the concrete floor as if he weighed four tons.
Jax frowned. He grunted and pushed harder. His biceps bulged. The oil on his chest gleamed. His boots slipped slightly on the floor.
Wei checked his watch.
"Are we hugging?" Wei asked politely. "I was told this was a fight."
"Cut!" Marcus yelled, practically weeping with joy. "The disrespect! The stoicism! Jax, you look like you're trying to push a building! Great pantomime!"
Jax let go, panting. He stared at Wei. His face was red.
"I wasn't pantomiming," Jax whispered, rubbing his wrists. "What the hell are you made of?"
Wei smoothed his robes.
"Gravity," Wei explained, "is a suggestion. I simply declined it."
