The magistrate twirled his fingernail coverings around and adjusted himself in his luxuriously decorated and furnished sedan chair. He watched as a man dressed in a white martial arts uniform lifted a blocky sword up into the air with no difficulty. Below the sword was another man kneeling in similar garb. Despite apparently it being the last moments of his life, he was barely containing a smile. The long Manchurian queue that snaked down his back normally was pulled outwards, so that his neck was exposed. A nearby drummer beat out severe harsh notes, and the swordsman brought down the dadao so quickly that it was simply a blur to the magistrate. Expecting a clean decapitation (the magistrate had ordered his fair share of executions), the sword simply stopped at the kneeling man’s neck. It did not even leave a wound, simply a small indentation as a fingernail would make. The two boxers looked at the magistrate, expecting praise for their demonstration.

“Fake!” roared the magistrate. “The sword is a fake!” 

The boxer with the sword assumed a fighting position, as another boxer picked up a twig and threw it at him. He cut it in half flawlessly, before throwing the sword at the magistrate. Howling in terror, the magistrate leaned to the right just in time for the sword to cut into the wall of his sedan chair, pinning down the peacock feather of his velvet Manchu cap. His bushy eyebrows were raised in shock.  

“Now... “ the boxer retorted, clearly satisfied with his handiwork. “Get one of your soldiers, one with a Western gun. And shoot me.”

The magistrate had regained his composure, and complied. One of his guards, a thin man, raised his rifle immediately. Dressed in a sharp black turban and blue uniform, he aimed at the boxer who made the inflammatory comment, now confidently putting his arms behind his back, allowing a clear shot to the chest. The guard flashed him a worried look,  but upon receiving a nod from both the boxer and magistrate, fired. The bullet traveled through the air, and again the magistrate expected a thunk and the boxer to drop dead. But the bullet simply bounced off the man’s chest and ricocheted out of sight. The soldier was most certainly impressed, and so were the magistrate’s servants, but he himself did not share their awe. His ungainly bulk shook while giving a hearty laugh.

“Very impressive. However, I do not see why you are so confident that you can expel the foreign devils. It will take more than parlour tricks to deal with them, I am afraid.”

The boxer grinned, and then clapped. Hearing this, the other boxers marched off to the side, and in their place walked a young woman. She too wore the white robe with the evocative red character for “courage” sewn on. Her hair was arranged in neat little buns, and she wore a resolute expression on her face, keeping her clenched fists firmly at her side, and kneeled.

“If you think I am impressed because a girl has joined you, you will be sorely disappointed.” 

The boxer smiled again.

“This is Red Lantern Mei-Yi. She will be the highlight of today’s demonstration, and fair proof that the boxers will save China from the yolk of the foreign devils. She will harness the power of the gods and become one herself.” 

The magistrate, still not impressed thoroughly, leaned in closer on one chubby arm. He had known country bumpkins used a sort of childish Chinese folk magic, but had never seen much of it apart from mere mind tricks or disappearing acts.

Mei-Yi, despite her poker face of confidence, was a bit worried.

“Are you sure this will work?” she whispered to the boxer.

“As sure that the sun will rise tomorrow.”

He pulled a knife out of his robe. Placing the flat side of the knife on Mei-Yi’s head. He began to whirl it around Mei-Yi, swinging it at her as if about to cut and stab her, but stopping right before contact. The boxer then began to chant quietly, a low, groaning murmur. Mei-Yi evidently did not enjoy having a knife thrust near her head constantly, but did not object. She had trained with the Society for years and years, and she’d been waiting for this moment all this time. She would finally have a chance to strike back at the foreign devils. The rest of the boxers weren’t just standing around either. Behind them was a golden shrine, filled with statues, candles, and gold plates of fruit. Lighting a paper talisman, they handed it over to the knife boxer. He stopped the knife whirling thing and gave the talisman to Mei-Yi. Now the talisman was simply a little bundle of ashes, and Mei-Yi was not looking forward to swallowing it. However, seeing the arrogant smirk on the magistrate’s face, she popped it in her mouth and swallowed it. Then, she exhaled everything within herself. The knife boxer turned to face the magistrate. He waited. Mei-Yi sat there awkwardly, humiliated. After perhaps a minute of rather tense silence, Mei-Yi felt her body vibrate. Frankly, it was uncomfortable, and she began to fidget around. The magistrate opened his mouth to give another unencouraging remark, until suddenly Mei-Yi began to grow, for lack of better terms. Her body began to expand in size inhumanly fast. The magistrate staggered backward in his covered compartment. His guards all lifted their rifles towards Mei-Yi, and his servants all ran behind them. An unforeseen consequence of this was that Mei-Yi’s original clothes no longer fit her adequately, or at all, and they burst off during this growth. Once the growth stopped, she now towered over the very clouds, even though she was still crouching. Blushing furiously after realizing how exposed she was, she quickly covered her private parts with her arms. Although the change in size was certainly more than obvious, she felt no nausea, no headache, nothing. If she was normal size and the world shrank around her, she wouldn’t have known. The magistrate shook his head in disbelief. Though he was rather offended at seeing a naked woman being shown at a martial demonstration, he felt there were more important things to comment on than the state of her undress.

“I- No- Impossible! It’s an optical illusion! This cannot be happening! No way!”

Mei-Yi looked down at the magistrate and his little band. They stood there, necks craned upwards, terrified. The soldiers were aiming their little rifles towards her, as if it would do something. The servants of the magistrate were ready to flee, unlikely to go through the hassle of carrying the magistrate’s covered sedan chair. Mei-Yi supposed it was supposed to be empowering for her to be dominant over them, but now it just felt awkward and silly. The fact that she was completely naked did not help. The boxer who had performed the ritual had been dangerously close to being crushed by her now colossal feet, but did not appear to mind. 

“Now, you see, Mei-Yi is no simple girl anymore. She is a goddess! The foreign devils are as good as dead.”

The magistrate was now convinced. The arrogance in his face had been wiped off and replaced with fear. Mei-Yi wasn’t exactly feeling too confident either. Having her fellow brother disciples that she had trained with literally powerless and at her feet was going to take some time to get used to, for sure. Plus, her lack of clothes. 

“The best part is that she can ONLY hurt foreign devils. We fight only for justice, and against evil. Now, please, Mei-Yi, step on me.” 

Mei-Yi looked down at him in surprise.

“What?” 

“You heard me. Go ahead, it’ll be fine!” 

“No, Yong-liang, are you serious? I don’t-”

“Don’t worry, go ahead.” 

Mei-Yi pouted worriedly, and keeping her arms steady over her privates, lifted her foot over Yong-liang. She hesitated, but finally lowered her colossal foot slowly down. She closed her eyes in fear as she felt the weak body of Yong-liang collapse under her foot. There was no doubt that it would have crushed a house. Despite this, no anticipated “splat” was heard. Just after she pushed Yong-liang into the ground she lifted her foot up quickly. The magistrate scratched his triple chin curiously. What he had seen today defied all logic and reasoning. His personal status as a rather pompous windbag had allowed him to see many amazing circus performers. But all of them paled in comparison to whatever this was. Even if this was an optical illusion, maybe some kind of puppet, and timed perfectly, it had to be masterfully orchestrated. But the monolithic figure of Mei-Yi did not have the lifeless, garish feel of puppetry. But this simply could not be real. Unbelievable. Meanwhile, Yong-liang promptly stood up, completely unharmed. He rustled his uniform to get rid of some dirt, and cracked his neck casually. Mei-Yi sighed in relief. Yong-liang looked at the magistrate.

“Do I have the support of the Imperial Army now?”

The magistrate shook his head, but this time his thick lips did not curl into a smirk. What he had seen simply was amazing to say the least, and although he was completely convinced of the boxer’s magic, he still had to be completely sure. If he lent them the support of the Imperial Army and lost to the foreign devils, his head would be paraded around on a stick for weeks to come. 

“Very impressive indeed. However, this will be the final task. Pick up-” the magistrate pointed at the soldier who had shot the boxer- “that soldier.” Said soldier widened his eyes in horror.

“Wait, what! No, don’t-”

“Fear not, private, for I shall later drown you in an ocean of riches for this.” If the boxers could perform this, it would most convincingly prove that they were truly in contact with the gods and not just a band of traveling circus hacks or hoaxes seeking government funding, since picking up the soldier could not have been staged. Mei-Yi did not exactly feel like revealing herself (yet…) to the magistrate and his entourage, so she awkwardly adjusted one leg to cover her nether regions while reaching ungracefully for the little soldier. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you.” 

The soldier was literally in tears as her fingers carefully closed around him. Clutching his rifle, she lifted him up to face level. She let him sit down on her palm while she looked at him closer. The ends of his turban once sat neatly on his shoulders, but were now loosely hanging at his back thanks to his rapid ascent. He was a young man, with little to no stubble, and his brown eyes sparkled with tears. His face was rotund, possessing an unassuming little nose. His Western rifle now lay on the ground, its strap tied around his torso. A very cute little man. For him, however, the experience was harrowing. He felt every breath she took, and the ground underneath him was of soft flesh, HER flesh. Though her grasp was surprisingly ginger and delicate, being grabbed by her was still horrifying. Each hair on her head was probably thicker than the strips of cloth on this turban. Her eye was about as big as him, and being studied closely by one of those was not exactly what he would describe as pleasant. And she could swallow him in one gulp. Not fun. 

“What’s your name, soldier?” Mei-Yi inquired. 

“X-xiong… Xiong Hui-Liang..” 

Mei-Yi said nothing for a moment, and then laughed. This sent a tremor towards Hui-Liang, whose turban strips were blown into further disarray. 

“Your names are literally the opposite of each other!” (“Xiong” means fierce, and “Hui-Liang” means kind.)

“It’s, uh, not that xiong, but…” His voice trailed off as he realized that he was sitting in a very undignified position, and thus rose up carefully, adjusting his rifle so it hung over his back.

“I like your shirt.”

Hui-Liang wore a traditional blue uniform with black and yellow piping. Although his dress far from as ornate as the magistrate’s, it did contain a few patterns resembling clouds here and there. Perhaps the most noticeable feature was the large yellow circle sown in the middle of his jacket, with writing inscribed on it that Mei-Yi could not read. 

“T-thank you…” 

“No problem.” 

After a few more uncomfortable moments of staring, Mei-Yi gently let the soldier down. Now the magistrate was ready to go. 

“Thank you, private Xiong. We’ll see how much gold you can carry before your back breaks later today, heh heh. Now, thank you for this lovely demonstration, and I shall be sure to inform the Empress herself of this. Her majesty has received divine right to rule, and thanks to this divine display, I am wholly confident she will support the Society of Righteous Fists in expelling the foreign devils from our beloved homeland. As for you, good lady, I shall have my finest tailors weave a glorious outfit of the highest quality for you, made of the best silk in all of China-”

“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary.” Mei-Yi boomed.

“Pardon?”

“Well, it’s just we’re trying to stay humble, you know? Trying to resist corruption, temptation, and all that… no offense. Just get me a larger size of my previous outfit, please.”

The magistrate agreed, but did take offense. He gave her a sad look, smacked his lips, and continued on with his monologue. He enjoyed ostentatious displays of his wealth, but was not about to argue with some giantess who was possibly a goddess. 

“Ahem. I appreciate your devotion to the common peoples of China! I shall return soon, and bring news of her majesty’s decision. Certainly, I am sure she will reciprocate your admiration of her. May the gods be in your favor! I bid you farewell!” And with that, the rotund little man hurried away in his sedan chair, whose carriers left a lot faster than they came. Private Xiong turned around to look at Mei-Ying one last time, before leaving with the rest of his posse. 

“So…” Mei-Yi adjusted her arms back to cover up her crotch and rested her leg down. She looked at Yong-Liang, who was sadly looking at the departing magistrate. (The magistrate had never bothered to give him back his sword, but we all make mistakes, don’t we?) 

“You said this was permanent?”

Yong-Liang wrung his hands. 

“Yeah. Sorry. No way to reverse it.” Mei-Yi sighed. Being a few hundred meter colossus had its benefits, but not without its fair share of cons. But, she thought, this was her method of taking revenge. Soon, she would have her vengeance on the foreign devils who had bullied her great country. She would bear through this.

Several years earlier, Mei-Yi found herself eavesdropping at a village meeting. She wasn't exactly old enough to have a part in village "politics," so she hid. Her hiding place was pretty bad to be honest, but the villagers were too invested to notice (or care).

“Something must be done!”

“Yes, simply!” 

“We can’t keep ignoring them!”

Mei-Yi managed to hear only this much as she kept her back silently to the faded house, whose brick and mortar foundation was beginning to crumble and come off in powdery tufts. Even if she wasn’t sneaking about and eavesdropping, she could still probably hear the conversation quite clearly, as this particular town meeting was performed in loud, shouty voices despite it being nighttime. Though she could not see them talking directly, she saw their shadows painted onto the walls of another house by their lapping fire. 

“I’ll give them a thrashing they won’t forget, for sure!”

“Oh no, you can’t do that!”

“How come? Are you afraid?”

“No, no! The devils are protected by their soldiers!”

“So what? We have a fucking army too, don’t we?”

“But wait! Remember the Summer Palace! The foreigners are barbaric in their ways, yes, but they are not to be underestimated!”

“My grandfather fought them at Jiulong! Their cannons harness the thunder of the gods, and-”

“So what? If a pack of cannibals beat you in a fight, does that mean they’re better than you? Certainly not!” 

Now Mei-Yi understood what they were arguing about. A week ago, a most interesting menagerie of creatures visited their village. They looked like normal people, but were disturbingly off. While normal men chose either a demure beanie, Manchu hat, or wore no hat at all, these individuals wore some kind of ugly white helmet of sorts that resembled an overturned water jug. On the front of whatever this was was some kind of golden ornament. Even worse, their faces. One of them, Mei-Yi recalled with shudders, had a ugly long nose. He, or probably it, had blue pupils instead of brown. Its hand was hairy and under its nose it had a long caterpillar of yellow hair. On its face it carried a permanent sneer In their hideous hands they carried menacing rifles. Their village had heard of foreign devils before, and had mostly dismissed it as some kind of urban legend or myth, but for them to personally pay them a visit… The village headman had attempted to communicate with them. When they opened their mouth, no words came out, but instead a string of unintelligible gibberish. At this, the rest of the devils began tearing up the village. Overturning baskets of fruit (and pocketing some for themselves), trampling crops, and bayonetting bags of rice. Any attempt at resistance was met with a rifle-butt to the face. Mei-Yi shuddered again. She managed to evade most of this by hiding under her bed. Her father received a black eye for his attempted heroism. (Mei-Yi’s mother was long gone, probably long dead before Mei-Yi could remember.) When the devils left, her village was without food and any method of gaining more food. No one spoke of it, and simply tried to ignore it, until now. Mei-Yi followed this unspoken vow of silence, but always thought about that one sneering devil.

“Are you kidding me? It is our army that is weak, not us! Those damn Northeasterns just had to make us wear that stupid-”

“Hey. Watch it.”

“Alright. The Imperial Army cannot even protect itself from the devils, much less us! Still, with our incorrigible hearts of justice and valor, we simply cannot lose!”

“I do not think we can outsmart a bullet-”

“But other villages exist! They, too, have been harassed by these-”

“Enough.”

This ‘enough’ was spoken in a quiet raspy voice, containing elements of a stern paternal scolding. The village headman. Mei-Yi listened even closer. 

“We shall lodge a complaint with the magistrate. If that does not work…”

Though none of the others in the meeting objected, Mei-Yi could hear exasperated sighs.

“Venerable headman, the magistrate is corrupted. It is rampant with the foreign devils. They only care about licking the boots of their foreign overlords.” 

“We must try, at least. We cannot jump straight into violence, even if those devils do. We must not stoop to their level.”

“Alright, but if this fails, don’t be surprised if you hear about a few dead devils later on.”

“Very well. Who shall go?”

Silence. And then-

“I will.”

The gruff, barrel-organ baritone voice of Mei-Yi’s father sounded out against the ominous silence of the fire crackling. She felt a burst of pride at this.

“Anyone else?”

“I will.”

The village blacksmith spoke in. 

“Very well. Leave tomorrow morning. Take the rest of our grain as a tribute.The journey should take you about a day, and the hearing ought to last for a week.”

From the sighs and small vocalizations, Mei-Yi could hear they were not satisfied with this deal. She could also hear them getting up, and dusting their clothes off. The shadows dancing on the walls disappeared as they smothered the fire, and Mei-Yi realized that she may not want to get caught. Rushing back into her house and jumping into her bed, she waited as her father entered and settled into his bed. Although her father slept quite soundly (judging from the snores that quickly appeared), Mei-Yi could not sleep. She had just thought of the foreign devils being just some sort of banditry, but it appeared this problem was far more widespread.

The next morning, Mei-Yi awoke to the sounds of movement. The first sight that greeted her was her father. 

“Good morning, Ding Mei-Yi!”

Her father was a simple farmer, but could easily pass for a soldier. His head was like a solid block of stone resting upon a tree trunk of a chest. The front of his forehead was bald, like all men in China, and down the back of his head snaked the long queue. His beard was of a heroic type, not like the ugly, unkempt hair of the foreign devils. 

“I wish you a successful journey, father.” Mei-Yi gave him a grin from ear to ear.

“Thank you, Mei-Yi. I’ll return in about a week.”

“I know.” 

His father cocked an eyebrow, and Mei-Yi flushed, realizing her mistake.

“You know?”

“Uh, of course! You talked so loud last night… yeah… everyone knows…”

Her father stared at her for a moment, but his inquisitive expression soon turned to a warm smile. He ruffled her hair.

“Goodbye for now.”

The blacksmith returned from his journey one day after. When he entered the village, shocked gasps were heard. 

“They’re back!”

Mei-yi looked up from her bowl of tree-bark soup. So quickly! The news must be decisive. She hastily put her “soup” down, spilling some of it in the process, but hurrying over. A great smile encompassed her face as she spread her arms out to hug her father, but suddenly stopped. The blacksmith was back alright, but not as he had gone. A bulging bruise obscured one eye, and his hair was ruffled. His queue had been cut, and some of his hair had been painfully pulled out. His lip was cracked and caked with dry blood. His shirt was torn, he was missing one shoe, and he had a limp. But he was there. Mei-Yi’s father was not. The hushed murmurs of the crowd did not stop her from the inevitable question.

“Where’s my father?”

An even more pained expression entered the blacksmith’s face. He opened his mouth gingerly, revealing several bloody stumps where teeth used to reside, and then closed it like a fish out of water.

“I-I’m sorry.”

Mei-Yi did not understand. 

“Is he still at the hearing?”

The blacksmith shook his head. Another villager decided to speak for him. 

“They never reached the magistrate. Some devil soldiers beat them up. Your father-”

The villager did not finish his sentence, and instead looked away. Mei-Yi understood however. She ran back to her house, yes, her house now, not her father’s, and cried her eyes out. Why? How could the foreign devils exist? Beings of pure evil and spite, how? And why didn’t the army stop them? Atrocious! Shameful! Her sadness turned to anger. Then she remembered something. A group of young men had once come to the village, before all of this, asking for food to defend China from the foreigners. At that time, no one had cared, and told them to hit the road. They had been the laughingstock at the time, with their scarlet turbans and ostensibly pretentious weapons, and talk of “exterminating” the foreign devils. But Mei-Yi now understood their motivation. She vowed that she would kill every last devil in the world. Every. Single. One. 

(A bit illogical really, but it was a relief to her feelings.)