Tiger (4 page)

Ying shifted the
qiang
in his hands. A glint of firelight reflected off the weapon's metal barrel, and Fu noticed that Ying's fingernails, like the nails on his grotesque, clawlike feet, were extraordinarily long and filed sharp. Bits of bloodstained flesh dangled from their tips. Fu looked at Grandmaster out of the corner of his eye and felt some of his initial shock begin to fade. Grandmaster was gazing at Ying through the thickening smoke with only pity in his eyes.

Ying cleared his throat and looked at Fu.

“Hello, boys,” he said casually. “Or should I say girls? I had a feeling you would all be hiding like a bunch of females.”

Fu locked eyes with Ying. He released a low growl.

“Stay calm, Sister Fu,” Ying said, smiling. “I won't bite. At least not just yet.”

Fu growled again and tensed his whole body in preparation for an attack. Hok drifted over to his side and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Relax, Fu,” Hok said. “I understand your urge to attack. But you must resist. Ying is only throwing words at you, not daggers. He is up to something. I can feel it.”

“The birdbrain speaks!” Ying announced. “Fu, this must be serious. Hok rarely utters a peep. Maybe I really
am
up to something.”

“Who are you to call Hok birdbrain?” Fu snarled. “You're an eagle!”

“Do I look like an eagle to you?” Ying asked.

“You look like a fool,” Fu replied.

Ying opened his mouth wide and hissed at Fu. He flicked out his tongue and flexed its tip.

“What are you going to do with that?” Fu asked. “Lick me to death?”

Ying slipped his tongue back into his mouth and spat on the floor. He took a step toward Fu, and Fu roared. Every muscle in Fu's body began to shake.

Hok lifted his hand from Fu's shoulder and took a step back.

“Aren't you precious?” Ying scowled at Fu. “Purring like a little kitten. Would you like me to scratch behind your cute little ears?”

Fu could contain himself no longer. He sprang at Ying's throat with his teeth bared and arms outstretched. Ying dropped the
qiang
and repositioned himself to intercept Fu.

But Fu never reached Ying. Fu gasped and doubled over in midair as Grandmaster's narrow, bony shoulder struck him square in the diaphragm. Fu hit the ground flat on his back with a loud
THUD,
the wind completely knocked out of him. Grandmaster rolled over Fu's chest and whispered, “The pain you feel now is
nothing
compared to what you will feel if Ying gets his hands on you. You cannot defeat him alone. His kung fu is too powerful. This time you will listen to what I say! You will stay back! I will handle this.”

Fu wheezed and hacked as he sucked air, struggling to reclaim his breath for the second time that night. He nodded his head.

Grandmaster stood and spun around to face Ying.

Ying grinned. He bent down and picked up the
qiang.

“My dear old man,” Ying said. “How could you be so cruel to that poor little kitten?”

Fu lifted himself onto his hands and knees. He glared at Ying.

Grandmaster said nothing.

“If you ask me, I think that was precious,” Ying said. “It was almost worth him escaping my grasp to see the fearless giant of a tiger boy knocked down by a brittle old toothpick of a monk. Aaah … no matter, I'll snap his fat neck soon enough.”

Grandmaster remained silent.

“Oh, come now,” Ying said. “Your eldest prodigy has just returned after being gone nearly a year. Don't you have anything to say?”

“I am sorry I have failed you, Ying,” Grandmaster said. Fu thought he saw tears forming in Grandmaster's eyes.

“Oh,
now
you're sorry,” Ying said. “After I've destroyed nearly everything you care about—just like you've destroyed everything I care about. It's a little late to apologize, don't you think?”

Grandmaster said nothing.

Ying scowled. “You haven't changed one bit, old man. Somebody asks you a question, and you respond
with a blank stare.
Like a stupid child,
as the Emperor would say. You know, you could have learned a thing or two from him last year, but you decided to leave his palace. Why?”

“Because our job was complete,” Grandmaster replied.

“Was it?” Ying said. “The Emperor asked us to stay and serve as his full-time protectors. He was going to pay us with
gold.
But you refused his generous offer. You even refused to accept the gold he offered as payment for what we had already done. Why?”

“We are monks, not bodyguards or warriors for hire,” Grandmaster replied.

“Then why did we go there in the first place?” Ying asked. “You made me and thirty other Cangzhen monks risk our lives to save him and his throne. One of us didn't make it back because of you! What was the point? What was our reward?”

“Your success was our reward,” Grandmaster said calmly.

“And what did we gain from that success?” Ying asked. “I know for a fact you do not approve of the Emperor.”

“This is true,” Grandmaster said. “But our efforts saved our region from someone far worse than the new Emperor.”

“Who are you to judge that one man is worse than another?” Ying shouted. “Your decisions are foolhardy! You should have taken the gold.
Everything
would be different if you had. My best friend would
still be alive, and so would all your monks!”

Grandmaster said nothing.

“Fool! When I take that blank stare of yours to the Emperor with your head attached, my reward will be the title General. Then
I
will make all the decisions in this region you've secretly influenced for so long. What do you think of that, old man?”

Grandmaster stared back, silent.

Ying spat and turned to face Long.

“What do
you
think, Dragon Boy?”

Long paused, and Fu saw the same pity in his eyes that he saw in Grandmaster's. Long folded his hands as if in prayer and said, “Though I share your grief for the brother we lost, Ying, I think you disgust me.”

“My sincerest apologies for having turned your stomach, dear brother,” Ying replied sarcastically. “I realize my appearance is quite striking.”

“You misunderstand,” Long said, unfolding his hands. “It is your motivations that disgust me. Your appearance is simply ridiculous.”

“That's right,” Seh added, walking over to Long's side. “Grandmaster always said you would catch the eyes of the girls if you ever left Cangzhen. That is certainly true now. An eagle with a lizard's head is absurd.”

“I have very little eagle left in me, blind fools,” Ying said, spreading his arms wide. His bloody silk robe glistened in the smoky firelight. “I have changed quite a lot since you saw me last, and soon my transformation will be complete. My number one man is gathering the
dragon scrolls as we speak. I am confident I will learn the ancient dragon arts in no time.”

Fu looked over at Grandmaster and saw him shaking his head slowly.

“You are no dragon, Ying,” Grandmaster said. “To be a dragon, you must first be wise. You are certainly clever, but being wise and being clever are two very different things. You would be far better off stealing the secret eagle scrolls and learning from them instead. Perhaps they would guide you onto the right path. I might consider allowing you to take them with my blessing.”

“Ha!” Ying said. “You offer me things I can take at will. Perhaps you should have offered them to me before you destroyed my world. No matter, your gifts are surely worthless by now. I have instructed my man to take the dragon scrolls and burn everything else in the library.”

Fu saw Grandmaster stiffen. Hok began to shift from foot to foot, anxiously bobbing his head up and down. Fu couldn't see Malao, but Long and Seh stood still as stone, staring coldly at Ying.

What's going on?
Fu wondered. Then it hit him. Those scrolls were the only source of information for further training for them—or for anyone else. The library contained advanced scrolls for every kung fu style imaginable, holding a thousand times more information than could fit even inside Grandmaster's head. Without those scrolls, their kung fu might disappear. Forever.

“Hey, Lizard Face,” Fu called out as he stood up. “Why would you burn all the other scrolls?”

“I have no interest in them,” Ying replied casually.

Long's eyes narrowed. “You would destroy one thousand years of history simply because you did not find it of interest?”

“Absolutely,” Ying replied.

“That is most unwise,” Long said in a solemn tone. “A dragon you will never be.”

Fu watched Ying's carved face grow dark. Ying shouldered his
qiang
and pointed it at Long.

“Enough of this idle talk!” Ying shouted. “When you are gone, Brother Long,
I
will be the last dragon!”

“That is not true,” Grandmaster interrupted. “For I, too, am a dragon.”

Ying turned the
qiang
toward Grandmaster.

“Thank you for reminding me,” Ying said. “I nearly forgot. I shall kill you first, then. It seems most fitting, anyway, that you—the
old
man—should be on the receiving end of my
new
weapon.”

Grandmaster paused. Fu assumed he was taking a moment to analyze the
qiang
so that he could figure out how to counter it.

“Your toy does not concern me,” Grandmaster said. “What harm can come from a hollow metal staff?”

Ying laughed. “A hollow metal staff? Is that all you see? This weapon is the future. With a single finger, someone who's never trained in the fighting arts can destroy a warrior monk with sixty years of training!”

Ying waved a finger at Grandmaster as if scolding him. His voice lowered. “There is no defense against this weapon, you sneaky old man, so stop trying to figure one out.”

Fu saw Grandmaster smirk as the old man's voice boomed, “My young monks, when I count to three, run for the door!

“ONE!”

Ying took aim.

“TWO!”

KAA-BOOM!

There was an explosion of light and sound as Ying fired the
qiang
at Grandmaster's chest.

But Grandmaster was no longer there. The instant Ying's finger began to move beneath the
qiang,
Grandmaster had hit the ground and rolled toward Ying. Grandmaster lashed out with a vicious leg swipe.

Before Ying even hit the floor, Grandmaster yelled, “THREE! RUN!”

T
he young monks ran. Hok sailed through the flame-filled doorway first. Seh followed, quick as a whip, with Malao scampering close behind. Fu bounded powerfully through the flames, and Long zipped outside last, fast as lightning.

After just a few strides, Long was out front, leading the others through the smoky darkness toward the Hall of a Thousand Buddhas. Fu thought they should head in the opposite direction, but he knew no one would listen if he protested—so he kept his mouth shut and followed as best he could. His body was built for power, not speed. He had a hard time keeping up.

The scene unfolding before Fu was worse than anything he could have imagined. Flames leaped from
every building. In the eerie glow, he could see orange robes everywhere, filled with dead monks. Hundreds of armor-clad soldiers lay flat on their backs with long spears extending straight up into the air from their throats. Fu choked on smoke and the stench of burning bodies that had been ignited by flaming arrows. He wanted revenge so badly now, he could taste it. But he knew he'd be of no use to himself or anyone else if he were dead. He picked up his pace as best he could.

Fu made it to the back door of the Thousand Buddhas hall only a few strides behind the others. He knew what Long was thinking—they would cut through the hall on their way to the main gate. But when Long thrust the door open, burning air rushed out to greet them like a kiss from a dragon. Long jumped back, and Fu heard mortar cracking and bricks exploding inside from the tremendous heat. They would have to take the long way around.

Fu shook his head. He knew they should have gone the other way!

With Long in the lead, they ran once more. They raced along paths of bloodstained bricks, and Fu saw the dining hall, the toilets, the bathhouse, and the library—all burning.

Fu was surprised when they made it through the maze of buildings without encountering any soldiers. He was even more surprised when Long stopped ahead of him at the main gate. The others were stopped, too.

Beyond the gate lay a grassy moonlit area that separated the walls of the compound from a distant tree line, which was the beginning of a great, mountainous forest. Fu knew this grassy “moat” was kept treeless and well trimmed so that an enemy attacking Cangzhen would have nowhere to hide.

Fu caught up with the group. “What are you doing?” he asked Long, panting heavily. “Why did you stop?”

“There may be soldiers positioned in the tree line,” Long replied. “They could shoot us with arrows as we run across the open space, or they could wait and attack us as soon as we reach the trees.”

“So?” Malao said. “There are probably soldiers still here on the temple grounds. What else can we do?”

“Malao's right,” said Seh. “We have to take our chances over the grass, and then in the forest.”