by Ino Lee
Houzon’s excitement grew. He let out a brief cackle, embracing Houzon’s giddiness without losing control. The more he thought about it, the more he realized the mask’s wild nature was just an extension of his own. Attacking a much larger force with eccentricity was something he might ordinarily do, except now he could do so while channeling the cunning and cockiness of an unan and former magau king.
He stepped off a root and touched down on the forest floor where it was harder to see him. The ninja patrol was close now, several figures spreading out in response to his proximity. Were they on to him? He was probably close enough that the lo-shur sensed his energy, but didn’t yet realize what was coming for them. He tried to zero-in on Aiying’s softer steps, but couldn’t locate her. It then occurred to him that the Weeping Arrow might hang back, somewhere higher in the trees, waiting for the forward demons to flush him out before sending a wave of arrows. He would have to move past the lead scouts to reach her.
Three distinct approaching entities came his way. He took a more evasive route to avoid them, memorizing the twists and turns of the forest’s massive roots in case they became his battleground, but one drew uncomfortably close. Should he try to take out the vulnerable demon while it was isolated, or find the Painted Tear, either by using Kunchu again or waiting for her to come within sight?
Victory did not favor the meek. He would have to deal with the demons eventually and taking one out now while he had the chance was worthwhile. It might also have the added benefit of drawing out Aiying.
The lo-shur ninja tiptoed across a high root when the sharpened end of Wong’s stave shot up from underneath, piercing through its right foot. It screamed while Wong crowed like a rooster, dislodged his weapon, and scurried away.
The other ninjas scrambled—two low to the ground and nearby, but another high in the branches. Wong keyed in on the latter movement and had his new bearing.
The forest buzzed with activity as the lo-shur moved to intercept, but Wong was too fast to be contained. He let out a primal scream—the raw sound of a magau on the rampage—and closed in on Aiying instantly. He guided arrows astray with his staff before engaging with wide swipes, trying to pressure her in the direction where Renshu and Shiki lay in wait. She resisted at first, then dropped toward reinforcements.
Wong pursued. Maneuvering the Weeping Arrow where he wanted to go would be too hard with the other demons involved, but if he couldn’t chase her where he wanted, then perhaps he could get them to follow him there.
The ninjas arrived and Aiying changed pace. She stopped and notched her bow, lining up a shot while the others attacked. Wong bounced from branch to branch while arrows flew by. Just when he punched a ninja away, an arrow sped toward his chest and knocked him back, causing him to fall from his bough, bouncing on another before landing awkwardly on a third.
He stumbled away, seemingly hurt, but secretly dropped the arrow which he had caught just before impact. The ninjas pursued determinedly, thinking their prey injured. The Weeping Arrow took a different angle and tracked him from above, but Wong didn’t mind as long as she followed. He scampered across the roots and let out a couple of whimpering monkey caws.
The demons drew close on several occasions, but Wong let them in order to keep their interest. He was even stung by a ninja star, but figured the blood would make them hungrier, like a pack of wolves closing in on a wounded animal.
The frenzied chase brought the demons to the edge of the radiant energy, and they failed to notice their dwindling power before Renshu and Shiki sprang from hiding. The ambushing magaus tangled with the pursuing demons, allowing Wong to immediately reverse course and focus on Aiying.
Wong’s own energy ignited and supplanted that of the radiance pool, causing him to cry out and explode through the treetops again. His eyes turned black behind his mask and an aura of chi clung to his body as flames. The Weeping Arrow kept to her namesake and responded with a barrage of arrows, but Wong zigzagged through the thick growth of foliage as cover. He slashed his stave violently and tore a pile of leaves off their branches, then spun his weapon and sucked in the detritus like a tornado, punching out and sending forth the cloud of leaves.
Aiying shielded her eyes, when Wong appeared through the funnel and struck with his weapon. She was knocked off her branch and tried to recover, but Wong hit her again and again, appearing from every angle, sending her plummeting to the forest floor. She hit the ground hard and blacked out.
Wong disarmed her and tossed her over his shoulder. He ran frantically, wondering how he could get her to wake and give him intel when they moved past the effects of the radiant energy where the lo-shur would separate. He did not have to think about it long, however, as a new problem emerged. The Weeping Arrow squirmed and wriggled, managing to engage him in a headlock. Wong tripped and fell, glad that he had disarmed her earlier and hadn’t received a knife through the neck.
They rolled and wrestled, losing their masks in the process. Their hands grabbed at each other’s throats. Wong stared into her blackened eyes, similar to his, but her face was uncovered and no longer representative of the Weeping Arrow or Painted Tear—it was just plain Aiying. Their grips tightened and their windpipes closed.
“Get out!” Wong gasped.
His blood pulsed and his vision blurred. The world spun and he lost all sense of direction, whether it was up or down, east or west—adrift in three dimensions. It seemed as if he were unconscious, but his mind was clear and his chi sizzled. Everything was dark. He heard anger. He felt it. A demonic presence filled the room, but he was just as large. They clashed and fought inexplicably without arms or legs.
The demon’s will was overwhelming. Suddenly he heard a voice—weak, thin, and confused. He knew it was Aiying and that he must go to her.
“Aiying,” he said.
There was only silence.
“Aiying,” he said again.
A feeble echo returned.
“Fight it. Fight the demon,” Wong implored.
More echoes.
“Know who you are, Aiying. It has been a while, but you are a warrior of Shaolin.”
The demon roared. It sounded as if they were caught in a vicious monsoon.
“It’s me, Wong. I cannot fight the demon alone. I need you.”
Now it sounded like the ocean was about to engulf them. Oppressive energy tormented him, but he resisted.
“Fight Aiying.”
“Who? What?” the voice finally said.
Wong’s spirits lifted, glad to have finally understood her. “You are possessed. Fight the demon’s control.”
“I am . . .”
“Fight with me.”
“Who?”
“Wong. It’s Wong.”
“Who is Wong?”
“From Shaolin.”
“What is Wong?”
“Remember when we were kids and we had an archery contest? You were about to beat me, so on your last shot I snuck up behind you and jabbed my bow . . .”
“Wong??” The voice strengthened. “Why are you here?”
“For you. Wake up and fight. There is a lo-shur here. Don’t let it control you.”
“Get out of my head.”
“Make me get out. Make both of us get out. Take control.”
There was a bright flash and Wong snapped back to his former state of consciousness. His eyes opened—black at first, then clearing—and the forest came into view. He was dizzy, drained of energy, and his throat hurt. Weight held him down, which he realized was just Aiying, collapsed on top of him and unmoving. He was oddly thirsty.
Floating in the air just beyond them loomed the black spirit. It hovered in place, wisps of its black spectral form shimmering like a sheet hung out to dry in the wind. It seemed aimless. Perhaps it was just as surprised and dazed as he was; after all, it had been forcibly separated from its host and was
in spirit form for what may have been the first time in over a year. He thought for a moment it might try to repossess Aiying, but he was still too disoriented to react or do anything about it.
A bright burning orb sheared through its spectral form.
It gasped and clawed at the air, then dissipated to nothingness, leaving the sole form of Jaguan in its wake, the ember of the Phoenix Staff still alight with power.
Wong looked up, completely shocked by the Shoukoo’s presence.
“Hey, monk.”
Jaguan looked stunned, too, then grinned smugly.
“Surprised to see me?”
Wong gaped. “No. It’s just that the lo-shur—he was our friend.”
Jaguan looked stunned again.
“Just kidding,” Wong said, slumping back down.
Jaguan shook his head. “Still the same, Wong.”
“Your timing couldn’t be any better, Jaguan. That was completely unexpected.”
“You are not the only one who is surprised,” Jaguan said, eyeing Aiying, who began to stir.
15
THE STREETS OF Hanai were much more active on the third day of the invasion. Even the most timid residents now ventured out in search of food and flooded the markets, which were better stocked with inventory from other parts of Hanai. The locals felt safer after realizing that most of the danger came after sunset and the Koon Gee were focused on locations of strategic importance rather than the citizens themselves; garrisons along the western edge of the city were their latest nighttime targets. The residents also took heart after hearing that a contingent of Shaolin warriors had arrived at the northern gate and were preparing to bolster the city’s defenses.
A sea of colored tunics and hats crowded the walkways. A pair of plain cloaked figures cut through.
“We kind of stand out,” Hojin said.
Kai held out his arms and looked at his simple temple clothing. “Hmm. I guess we don’t blend in. We don’t have normal clothes, though.”
“There has to be a store around here. Let’s find something.”
They turned down a promising street with numerous storefronts, not far away from Wong’s home.
“At least our weapons don’t make us stand out,” Kai said, noting various pedestrians carrying weapons because of the invasion, and comparing them to their own.
They stayed up late rummaging through Wong’s armory the night before and picked out choice weapons for the day’s activities. Though Hojin brought his trusty double-edged sword from Shaolin, he decided to carry a pair of shiny butterfly swords instead. He liked the versatility of the weapons, figuring they were a better fit for the city terrain; the short swords were concealable and their elongated guards and thick blades allowed for the perfect blend of offense and defense should they be taken by surprise in tight quarters. He was already well-trained in their use and could tell the ones Wong had were of unusually good quality, although there was a notch on the bottom of the hilts that seemed out of place. Kai also chose a new weapon and wore a light horn bow on his back despite bringing his chi staff, because the monk weapon would draw too much attention. He had to try out a new weapon, too, since Hojin did the same. His weapon was the smallest bow in Wong’s collection, a composite made of animal horn and wood.
“That looks promising,” Hojin said, pointing at a shop with a few shirts hanging in front.
The shopkeeper acknowledged them. “Are you with the Shaolin relief force?”
“No. We’re on our own,” Hojin said.
“Oh, I thought you were too young anyway.”
They entered the store. Hojin tried on a loose blue tunic with a floral pattern, then hid his swords up the sleeves.
“Why are you hiding your swords?” Kai asked.
Hojin snickered. “To catch them by surprise.”
“But I’m already wearing my bow and arrow out in the open.”
“Just pick out your shirt.”
Kai took his time. He finally settled on a dark green outfit with a similar floral pattern, though more tightly fitting. They traded in their clothes and added a few more coins to even the trade.
They returned to the streets. Their outfits made them feel more independent, even though they had left the Shaolin warriors the day before. There was excitement in the covert nature of their travel, with new weapons, new identities, and more importantly, a break from the norm. Kai wondered if that was why Wong ran away from the Shaolin Temple all the time when he was young.
Hojin looked around and tried to get his bearings; they had agreed that morning to start their search for Ting by heading to the farm.
“I think South Gate is this way,” Hojin said.
He turned a block.
“How long will it take to get to the farm?” Kai asked.
“It’s pretty far. Late afternoon, maybe.”
Their excitement tempered. The prospect of a long trek and concern over what might have happened on the farm made them more thoughtful.
Kai sensed Hojin’s apprehension. “Don’t worry; I think they’ll be fine.”
“Thanks for trying to make me feel better, but I know you don’t believe that.”
“Why not?”
“Cause if you did, you wouldn’t be here.”
It was just past noon when they faced their first setback. The southern gate was barricaded. Hojin and Kai tried to get through, but the soldiers guarding the perimeter warned them of the danger and turned them away.
“What do we do now?” Kai said.
“We could circle back to the eastern gate, but we wouldn’t reach the farm until much later.”
“Risky, but if we had our Shaolin clothes, maybe we could have convinced them to let us through.”
“Maybe.”
The soldiers’ warning of danger weighed heavily on Hojin’s mind. His heart ached as he thought about the farm.
“I don’t even know if there’s anyone still there. I don’t think they would have stayed at the farm if it’s as bad as they say.”
“Where would they go?”
“Good question.” Hojin looked back at the city. “I guess into the city. Most of my parents’ friends are from other farms, though.”
“Is there any place you can think of where they’d be?”
“Not really, but there’s someone close by that might know something.” He started walking. “This way.”
“Who?”
“Some guy we used to work with.”
They crossed a number of streets before arriving at a bustling market. Shoppers jostled each other, jumping from station to station and carefully inspecting the produce before haggling loudly. Hojin scanned the market and waded through the busy aisles, until he finally spotted a plump bald man in the back opening a crate.
“Hi Chong, sorry to bother you,” Hojin said.
“Oh, hello. From the lotus farm, right?”
“Yeah.”
“You are looking grown up now. Say, did you find your father?”
Hojin looked startled. “Dad? No, why?”
“Oh, so sorry. Your sister, I think, came here yesterday asking.”
“Really? What did she say?”
Chong put down his things and scratched his chin. “Something about . . . an alley. An alley down Jang Street.” He nodded. “That’s where she is.”
Hojin shot Kai a hopeful look.
Kai returned the look, then addressed Chong. “Are you sure it was Ting?”
“Oh, I don’t know her name. But she was definitely from the lotus farm.”
“Did she say anything else?” Hojin asked. “What about my mom?”
“No. I’m sorry. She left the farm because of the Koon Gee and was looking for her father. That is all I know.”
“Do you know where on Jang Street she is? Can you tell me anything else?”<
br />
Chong shook his head. “Just some alley on Jang Street.”
“Did she look okay?”
“She looked fine. I was very busy. Is everything okay?”
“Thank you so much. You’re a big help.”
They rushed off.
Hojin’s mind raced. Why was Ting staying on Jang Street? And why was she looking for their father? What happened to him?
“Hold up, Hojin,” Kai said. “Do you know where you’re going? What’s the plan?”
“Jang Street’s a few neighborhoods away. We’re just going to have to walk up and down it looking for alleys. I have no idea where she could be staying. It’s not that great a neighborhood.”
“How long is Jang Street?”
“Pretty long, but at least it’s something.”
They trekked across town until they hit Jang Street, which ran perpendicular to their path. Hojin and Kai stopped and looked both ways, examining the buildings and the spaces in between. There weren’t many alleys within plain sight, and the street seemed to go on forever.
“This could take a while,” Hojin said.
“Maybe we should split up. How far does it go each way?”
“Longer right than left. It’ll take all afternoon to do a proper search. How about you go right, I go left? Stick to the south side of the street, then loop north. We’ll eventually run into each other again.”
Kai nodded. “If all else fails, let’s meet there around sunset.” He pointed at an area with outdoor seating and a food stand.
“Okay. Good luck. Hope we find her fast.”
Kai hesitated. “Do you think she’ll know me? I only met her a few times.”
Hojin smirked before walking away. “Oh, she’ll know you. She keeps asking about you.”
The old white house might have seemed abandoned if not for the healthy bamboo plants in the alley, the decorative elements a promising sign that life could be found within. Only a handful of other alleys on Jang Street led to places where Ting could stay; most led to neighboring streets or empty space. For those that did, the searches came up short. Three had residents that had not seen nor heard of Ting, and the fourth was an empty warehouse that would have to be revisited if the rest of the search was unsuccessful.