“Ha! You will never master my style. For when I finish demonstrating my yak cheese kung-fu, you will be dead.”
“So it is the yak cheese style you practice. You must have sought the teachings of Khenpo Tukpa Shinpo.”
“Yes, that is how I earned this orange tunic. I traveled to Lhasa, where the Tibetan kung-fu masters have their stronghold in a lofty cave beyond the city. There we ate roasted barley and practiced the way of the yak cheese in snowdrifts on windy evenings.”
“You fool, you think the Lhasa style can protect you? Your arrogance will see you destroyed. The yak cheese style is nothing compared to my chipotle turkey sausage kung-fu. I learned it from the fabled secret grandmother who carries its ancient scrolls beneath a shawl on her head. Now you will die.”
“Poor friend, it is not arrogance but knowledge. And I will never die because I am hard as stone like the cheese of the mountain beast. I break the teeth of the foolish. And if you boil me in water I am not destroyed, but instead become even better. Your style, on the other hand, has ground meat as its essence. So I will return you to your natural state!”
So it was that Master Yak-Fu returned to the Land of Snow after a lean meal of diced poultry, and continued his quest to find the strange man and ascertain the nature of his knowingness.